#batty writes

⃣ Follow up to I've Got a Taste For You

⃣ A.H. + S.R. ghostface au

It was a beautiful sunny day when he showed up. A beautiful sunny day that was ruined for Spencer by this random appearance. Your team had been told that you would have a new agent joining you on Monday. He was supposed to just be working with you for a few weeks before being sent across the country to work for another team. Monday morning was warm and brilliant. Spencer walked into the bullpen and smiled brightly at you. He set down a cup of coffee on your desk and let his hand lag over your arm. Your relationship hadn’t been announced at work yet, neither of you wanted to deal with the paperwork, so you subsided on stolen glances and lingering touches. “How was your night? Didn’t you go see a movie,” he asks casually. You nod, holding your coffee up to cool it off with your breath, “mhm. It was pretty good.” “I still can’t believe you went to see a movie without your favorite movie buddy,” he lets the end of his sentence curl into a playful whine. You snort a laugh, “you’ll live. Am I still your favorite girl to see movies with even though I betrayed you or-” Your question is interrupted by Derek Morgan interjecting, “hey! Am I not your favorite anymore?” Spence rolls his eyes before looking to Morgan’s desk, “you’re not a girl!” “Not the point,” he teases, turning back to his computer with a wide grin. As you go to lob your own joke into the mix, Garcia makes her presence known on the catwalk. She waves her hand, heralding your team into a meeting you could practically sense was coming. You made your way upstairs as the rest of the team wandered over. You take a seat at the table and watch the others filter in, noticing that Hotch isn’t in the room yet.

Spencer takes a seat across the table from you and shoots you a quick smile when you meet his eyes. When you first began dating you had mentioned that you liked sitting next to him, but because he always sat across from you it felt like he didn’t like sitting next to you. He then revealed that he sat across from you so he could look at you more covertly than if you were directly next to each other.

Hotch turns into the room, crossing the threshold with his back partially turned to the rest of the room as he guides a man in. Hotch patiently waits as the team finishes their conversations and turns their attention to him and the stranger he’s brought. You study the man's face, something familiar etched into the creases across his forehead and the shine of his hair. He turns to look at you and recognition lights up his expression. Hotch opens his mouth to introduce him and is interrupted when you exclaim, "Andy?!" He replies with your name, his voice joyful and surprised, "I thought that was you! I haven't seen you in forever!" Hotch does something that's as close to a grin as he can, "that makes the introduction easier I suppose. This is Agent Andrew Joyce, he'll be joining us for the time being." Andrew offers a polite wave at the group, "it's a pleasure to be here, thank you for welcoming me." JJ gives him a warm welcome and he moves around the table to the open chair on your left. He slides into the chair and shoots you a smile as your mind buzzes with things to ask him. Andrew has been your friend since you were 12, you'd lost contact after graduating high school and going to different colleges, but you occasionally came across something about him through his moms Facebook page. Garcia and Hotch fill the team in on the case you're signing onto. What originally appeared to be a strange string of family annihilators now seems to be connected and they need you all to fly to Iowa to help out. You glance at Spencer, expecting to see him already itching to get started like he often is, but you find that he's staring at Andrew. You assume he's just trying to get used to having a new face at the table and don't give it much more thought than that.

On the flight to Iowa you're sat across from Spencer with Prentiss on your right. Andrew was originally sat next to Spencer, but moved to talk to JJ and get more background on the case. Spencer is eyeing you in a way that makes you shift in your seat. You press your thighs together and twist slightly in your chair, hoping no one notices. The look he gives you isn't intimidating, but it is heavy, like there's something bubbling just below the surface.

Once landed, the team checks into a hotel and is assigned room partners. You end up getting placed with Emily, the two of you sharing a mischievous grin when handed your room key. Spencer ends up being placed with Derek, Rossi with JJ, and Andrew with Hotch. You and Emily drop off your suitcases in your room and quickly freshen up before going downstairs to meet the others. When you get downstairs Reid and Morgan are waiting on you. Derek leans against the back of a lounge chair in the lobby while Spencer stands in front of him, arms crossed and mouth moving a mile a minute as he speaks to him. You sidle up to Spencer's side and he stops mid sentence to look at you. "Are you guys ready to go," his eyes roam your face as he awaits an answer. You nod, "sure are! I just wanted to change my clothes real quick and Prentiss needed to put on a different shirt." "It's too humid for a sweater, what can I say," she shrugs. Spencer nods at her, a crinkle of a smile on his lips, "it is pretty humid. Is everyone else still upstairs? We haven't seen them yet." "We didn't see them in the hallway, so I'd assume so," you reply, letting your arm brush against Reid's. He drops his hand to lace his fingers with yours, moving to hide your hands behind the open quarters of his suit jacket. You glance up at him to find his eyes already on you, a small smirk exchanged between you. The smile is pulled from Spencer's face when the elevator dings behind you. You turn to find the rest of your group exiting the elevator, Andrew leading the way. He beams at you, the smile so wide it creases his eyes and nose slightly. He jogs up to you, "how does your squad feel about hugs between colleagues?" You giggle, "are you asking for a hug? We do hugs sometimes so no one will judge you if that's the concern." He laughs, a bellowing sound that you haven't heard in years, "yeah! I haven't seen you since we were little kids, of course I want a hug." “18 and off to college is not ‘little kids,’” you laugh. You glance at Reid before dropping his hand and spreading your arms to hug Andy. He lets out a sound close to a giggle and wraps you in his hold, almost immediately lifting you and twirling you around. The surprised yelp you loose from your lips almost covers his words, "I've missed you so much!" He sets you back down with a chuckle and you back away, nearly losing your balance and bumping into Spencer. "I think you surprised her," Emily laughs. Spencer cocks an eyebrow in a way that conveys exasperation, "I think he surprised everybody." Andrew's face flashes with a brief wave of annoyance or maybe defensiveness before looking back to you, "well maybe when we're done for the night we can get drinks and catch up." "I'd like that," you smile at him, discreetly running a hand down Spencer's arm to console him.

Spencer didn't often get jealous. It had happened a few times, mostly before you were even dating if you were honest. Once when you went undercover for a night to lure out an unsub at a couples club, he got so jealous that you worried he'd rip the man's throat out with his teeth. It didn't bother you when he did get jealous, you knew he'd lived a life of loss and stability was not a common state for him so when he perceived a threat to your steadiness it made sense that he would get a little possessive. If you were truly honest with yourself you also had to admit that it was a little hot when he got possessive. One time he'd gotten a little uppity about a man at a bar who'd tried to dance on you. He took you outside and pressed you against a wall, making an absolute mess of your neck before taking you home and making a mess of the rest of you. He'd growled in your ear about how you were his and it echoed in your most private moments for months after.

You arrived at the precinct, were briefed on what was going on, and split into teams to check out different crime scenes. You were placed with Spencer and Andrew, part of you smiled at how lucky that was, the other part of you cringed at how awkward this could get. The car ride over was largely silent. Andrew tried to start a conversation a few times, but Spencer's lack of enthusiasm quickly shut that down.

At the scene you all wandered around, sharing observations and discussing the case. You noticed that Andy and Spencer were both stood strangely close to you. You covertly take a step away to see what they do. Andrew follows, glued to your side, and you're slightly floored when Reid quickly appears on your other side. You try not to laugh at how juvenile this is. Andrew is talking about something he noticed, leaning over to point at one of the photos you've gathered of the scene, and Reid is staring daggers at him as he leans in a way that is similar to Andy. You figure you'll have to talk to Spencer about his behavior later, but now is not the time.

Back at the precinct you discuss findings with your team. As you approach the table that JJ, Rossi, and Derek are seated at, Andrew quickly snatches the chair directly next to you. Spencer is already on the other side of the table, but he shoots Andrew a look anyway. You assume it's about the principle. A map is brought out to highlight the sectors of town that the unsub is most likely to strike next. Andrew leans over the table past you and drapes his arm over the back of the chair as he does so. His thumb brushes the back of your arm and you jump slightly, not expecting the contact. "Do you want to move seats so you can see better," Spencer pipes up from across of you. Andrew tilts his head up to look at Spencer, he's so close to you now that the movement causes his tie to brush over the papers in front of you, "oh, I'm alright." His eyes find yours as he turns to look down on you, "are you alright?" "Uh, I can move so you can see better. Do you want to swap seats," you smile and try to hide the awkwardness you're feeling. Andrew's face tightens slightly, like he didn't expect you to agree with Spencer, "alright then." He stands back up and you stiffly swap over to what was his chair. You look at the other end of the table to find the other three staring at Spencer. JJ passes you a look that reads as, 'tell me what that was about later,' you simply nod and give her a tight smile. "So," you say, a little too loud, "what is everyone thinking for motive?"

Hotch enters the room and juts his thumb over his shoulder, calling your last name and causing you to tense, "Joyce, Morgan come with me." "We're in trouble now," Derek chuckles under his breath. You rise and step quickly to follow Aaron, Derek and Andrew close behind you. Hotch waits out in the hall talking to a local officer. He turns to include you all in the conversation, "this is officer Guerra, she wanted to bring some observations to our attention. She was one of the first on the scene for the last two attacks." Morgan nods next to you, looking a little perplexed, "does she want to present them to the whole team, or just to us? Why'd you call us out here?" “Well, I need you to follow me to talk to a witness and I thought this would be a good opportunity to get Andrew involved. Since you two know each other, I figured it would be easier to work together,” he gestures vaguely between you and Andy. You nod in agreement, “I’m good with showing him the ropes.” Hotch nods, gives you a quiet, ‘good,’ and wanders off with Derek. The three of you return to the room you’d been borrowed from and sit back at the table. Andrew pulls your chair out for you and you haltingly take a seat, your eyes flashing to Spencer and finding him caught up in a conversation with JJ.

The officer proceeds to fill you in on what she saw and you can’t help but bounce your gaze between the two men. Andrew occasionally returns your look, Spencer seemingly distracted by the officer's story. When she’s explained everything and shared her beliefs on the case you thank her and JJ escorts her out on her way to find Hotch. Reid immediately throws his energy into working on the profile, blocking out any comments from Andrew and focusing. His sudden disregard of Andrew's presence only feels slightly pointed, Andrew occasionally shifts uncomfortably in his seat when Spencer doesn’t respond to his input. You try to balance it out by answering him quickly enough that it might come off as Reid not replying redundantly, but that’s a flimsy plan and you know it. When it hits early evening, you decide to grab some coffee and offer to grab some for the others. “I’ll come with you,” Spencer volunteers, rising from his seat, “help you carry things.”You nod and smirk at him. Since you’ve started dating he’s used any excuse he can to be one on one at work. It’s quite sweet and you always feel a little special when he makes up a reason to get you alone.

Hovering over the coffee station you turn to him, “so what’s up?” He jolts slightly before trying to regain his unbothered disguise, “what do you mean?” “You’ve been staring at Andrew like you’re trying to set him on fire, you’re unusually clingy, and you’re completely refusing to talk to him,” you shift to rest one hand on your hip, a grin teasing at the corners of your mouth as he fidgets at being caught. “I- um,” he fiddles with the hem of his suit jacket, “I just don’t like new people…er- I have to get used to him.” He’s avoiding eye contact and trying to hide the twitch between his brows and you know you’ve got him, “so you’re not jealous?” “N-no, absolutely not,” he jerks to look at you. You hum affirmatively and turn back to the coffee pot. “Just out of curiosity,” he almost sighs, “he seems very comfortable being physical with you. Were you two ever…” He lets the end of his sentence drift off into the void, clearly hoping you’ll stop him before he has to ask. You finish his thought, “together?” He nods bashfully, staring rigidly at the floor. “No,” you chuckle, “I’ve never even had feelings for him. I think we kissed once, but I honestly barely remember so I wouldn’t even count that as anything besides adolescent experimentation.” Spencer nods firmly like he’s decided something, “that’s understandable.” “Thank you for talking to me, baby,” you reassure him, knowing the pet name will distract him enough to mend any residual anxiety he feels. You can practically see the way his heart flutters when he looks at you with a quickly building flush, “o-of course.”

You load up the coffees and take them back to the group that now includes Prentiss. She brought snacks from the vending machine, correctly predicting that none of you had eaten since landing. You snatch a bag from the pile and tug it open, immediately placing one of the chips on your tongue and sighing as you chew. Andrew grins at you, amused by your expressiveness. You continue your dissection of the case, throwing around theories and filling in profile details. You look up to ask Reid something and Andrew interjects. “Oh, you’ve got something there,” he leans forward and extends a hand. Before you even have time to try and fix it yourself, his hand cups your jaw and he brushes a thumb across the corner of your mouth and cheek to clear the crumbs from your chips. You feel your face heat at the unexpected contact, “t-thank you.” “No problem,” he replies, breezy as ever. You dare a peek at Spencer and are met with a red faced picture of envy.

The clock hits 10:17 and Derek loudly announces his defeat with a big stretch and an almost dad-esque overly exaggerated yawn. “Well, I think we’ve made good progress,” he sighs, “but it’s probably best if we all go rest up.” He looks at Hotch as if looking for permission. Hotch slides back from the table, “I agree. I think we’re approaching the point of diminishing returns on this for tonight.” With your unit chiefs approval you all start to gather your things and head for the door. You slowly walk out, trying to give enough time for Spencer to catch up without being suspicious, when an officer stops you. “You’ll want to go out that way,” he points at a hallway that runs perpendicular to the one you’re walking towards, “the only things down there are storage and empty janitor closets.” You nod and timidly thank him. Being stuck in the one room for so many hours must have gotten you turned around. Luckily, that provided a good excuse to hang back and let Reid meet you. He moves up to you, keeping a respectful distance by his standards, but still close enough that it feels intimate. You walk out the front door and load into a car together, watching as the others get into their own rentals and slowly pull out of the parking lot.

“So,” Spencer starts off, “how are you feeling?” You smile to yourself, “not super tired honestly. Mostly hungry right now.” “Do you want food,” he seems almost hopeful. You nod, your smile unable to be kept to yourself anymore, “doesn’t the hotel have a restaurant? How late are they open?” “All night as far as I know. I checked the sign while we were waiting earlier,” you can almost hear a chuckle of smugness in his voice. “Perfect,” you pat his thigh and grin.

The hotel restaurant is open to the lobby, a bar wrapping around one side to partially frame the separate area. You snag a booth towards the outer section, Spencer facing the front door to the hotel. You settle into the cozy atmosphere, dim lights and soft music filling your senses as drinks and appetizers are ordered. An impromptu date night is exactly what the two of you need after a long day of travel and working such a tough case. Spencer's eyes suddenly drift from your face, landing somewhere over your shoulder and suddenly lighting with annoyance. You start to turn, interrupted by someone calling your name and then Spencers. Andy pops into your eyeline around the end of the booth, “hey! I was just about to get food myself. Mind if I join you guys?” You open your mouth to tell him you’d like some alone time, but he cuts you off, “are you guys on a date?” He looks between the two of you, a small grin on his lips, “sorry that was a mean joke. Anyways,” he slides into the seat, his leg brushing yours, “how are you guys feeling about this case?” You glance at Spencer and see the bubbling anger beneath his eyes. Something waiting under the surface that frightens and excites you in equal measure. “Actually, we were discussing some personal matters,” you look at him, trying to use the silence and your expression to get across that he should leave, “so, if you don’t mind…” “Oh! My bad,” he glances between you two awkwardly, “can I just get a drink and then I’ll leave? I did really want to hear opinions on the case.” Spencer sighs, quiet enough that you only pick up on it because you’re used to how he breathes, and nods. Andrew discusses the case with you, his theories and the aspects that confuse him. It’s honestly a pleasant conversation between the three of you, until he accidentally ruins it.

“So I’m in a room with…David,” he says the name like a question and looks between you two for confirmation that comes in a synchronized nod, “and he’s not a bad roommate or anything, but I’d rather we were sharing a room.” You visibly see Spencer tense out of the corner of your eye. He had relaxed, possibly accepting that Andrew wasn’t a threat, but you guessed this would undo all of that. “Remember when we used to do sleep overs? Your house always had the best snacks,” he reminisces. You smile at the memories, “yeah, that was always such a blast. I remember when we broke the tv remote and had to find duct tape to hide it,” you giggle. Andrew's face creases in a laugh, “your dad was ready to kill us for that one.” You can sense Reid quietly fuming and suppress a giggle at how outrageous this is. Andy turns to Spencer, “did you have any sleepovers as a kid?” “No. I didn’t have many friends,” he deadpans, clearly struggling to hide the annoyance hiding behind his eyes. “Ah, okay,” Andrew adverts his gaze back to you awkwardly. You try to move on, changing the subject, “how did I not know you were working in the same field as me?” “I told my mom that it was top secret so she wouldn’t post every single detail of my career on Facebook,” he laughs, welcoming the shift in conversation.

You chuckle, “that’s smart, until she figures it out at least.” “Well how would she figure it out? She barely knows how to look something up and none of our other friends from back in the day work this job so she doesn’t know anyone else to prove me wrong.” You let an evil grin creep onto your face, “sure she does. She knows me.” What you’re implying clicks for him, “no. No you wouldn’t.” “Oh, I would,” you giggle maniacally. “Nonononono,” he fights the smile trying to break onto his face. You overexaggerate pulling your phone from your pocket and beginning to type, “in fact…let me text her right now, it’s been so long since we talked.” Andrew reaches over and snatches your phone from your hand. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger before quickly swinging it into his other hand and stuffing it behind his back. You extend an arm, trying to get between him and the back of his seat before he can fully relax against it again. He sees your plan and raises his arm above his head, dangling it over you. You try to grab it without physically hopping from the seat, to no avail. You tug on the sleeve of his shirt to try and pull his arm down, suppressing the childish urge to swat at his side. While you struggle, Andrew's laughs distract you from the quiet shuffle across from you, Spencer stands and reaches across the table. He yanks the phone from Andy's hand and flops back into his seat before your friend can try to grab it again. You turn just in time for Spencer to signal he’s going to toss the phone your direction. You catch it and shove it into your pocket as quickly as you can. Andrew sits, amused and stunned, in silence. You turn to him and stick your tongue out, Spencer does the same. When you look at Reid again there’s a small smile on his lips. He looks proud of himself.

“Wow, I didn’t expect interference from Dr. Reid over here,” Andrew chuckles and gestures loosely at Spencer. “I know how to have fun,” Spencer chuckles, “and there was no way she was going to be able to reach your hand without help.” Andrew laughs harder than expected, caught off guard by his words, “true!” “Well sorry I’m not freakishly lanky or whatever,” you mock pout, crossing your arms and turning away from them slightly.

Andrew opens his mouth to continue the joke but is interrupted when a waiter appears. He turns and orders his drink. You drop your act and glance at Spencer to find his eyes already on you. He’s making a face that makes your heart speed up. There’s a warning in his gaze. There’s a fire burning behind his pupils that warms your insides, that you know will catch you if you let it touch you. You want to seek out the flame, let it take you over and show you the feelings he’s been burying since the new agent showed up, but you know you don’t have the time or energy for it now. Spencer licks his lips absentmindedly, dragging the tip of his tongue across the plush surface before it disappears again. When you find his eyes again you’re met with a smirk, he was watching you. He watched as you watched his tongue, watched his lips, and let the thought of what else he could be doing with those things sneak into the forefront of your mind for a moment. You pull your eyebrows together in a silent shaming of his teasing. His reply is the quirk of an eyebrow that tells you this is no time for sass. You immediately school your expression and feel the fog of giving up control start to slip over you. Spencer notices and his expression eases, welcoming your compliance. Normalling you’d scold yourself for how easy it is for him to get you like this. Before the pressure can build even higher, Andrew turns back around. The tension between you and Spencer snaps and you let your facades click back into place as you both shift to face him. “So, about the case,” he swirls a finger over a whorl in the wood tabletop, “I’m a little stumped. What’s your theory?” You let the moment move on and focus on discussing the case with Andy, even when you can feel Spencer eyeing you in silence.

The next morning you wake too early for justification. You toss and turn as you try to go back to sleep, eventually giving up and throwing on a cardigan and sweat pants so you can trudge down to the lobby for coffee. You shoot a text to Reid to let him know where you’re going and pass on an invitation as you ride the elevator down. You take a seat in the lounge with your steaming cup of coffee, briefly letting your eyes close as you relax. “Hey,” you hear an overly chipper voice from your right and nearly jump out of your seat. Your eyes fly open to see Andrew taking the lounger on that side, “h-hey, what’s up?” “Did I startle you,” he giggles, “sorry, I just figured you could use some company.” You gesture at the seat he’s already in, “go right ahead, I don’t mind.” The two of you fall into easy conversation, time flying by before you can realize it. A shadow drifts over you for a moment and when you pause the conversation to see what’s blocked the light from the overhead lamps, you find a very clearly irritated Spencer. His arms are locked at his sides, eyes on Andrew, mouth in a thin line across his face. “Good morning Spence,” you beam up at him. He gives you a tight grin, “morning. You’re up early.” You think he must be disappointed he doesn’t get you to himself like he expected this morning. “Yeah, I guess my body decided it was time to get up,” you giggle. Andrew opens his mouth to say something when your phones all start buzzing with a message from Hotch. ‘We’ve got a lead to follow, get to the station as soon as you can.’ Andrew groans and you smile up at Spencer, “do you want me to grab you some coffee?” He nods briskly, “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

You gathered Spencer's coffee, all went your separate ways to get ready upstairs, and reconveined later at the station. You take a seat next to JJ, sliding into the leather chair and adjusting the hem of your skirt slightly. Andrew sits next to you, Spencer across from you, and you don’t miss how Reid's eyes drag across your exposed collar bone. The lead turns out to be nothing special, it gets you some new information but nothing that’ll make the case. Hotch wanders off with Derek and Emily to interview someone, leaving the four of you in a room with a few officers from the precinct. You all pour over details of the case, studying maps, lists of victims, databases of every person that bought specific items in a specific time window, until your eyes hurt. JJ makes the executive decision that you should take a break and eat something. Once food is delivered and handed out to the correct recipients the officers disappear to their own break room, your team staying in the conference room they’re in, and the room falls into silence of people enjoying their meals. You and a few others had ordered bottles of soda, the glass bottles clinking satisfyingly in the brown paper bag everything came in, you now absentmindedly ran one finger around the rim as you zoned out and thought of things from the case to what your friends back home might be up to.

Andrew nudges you with an elbow, “you know what this makes me think of?” You hum and raise your eyebrows in question, turning to see the wide grin on his face. “The last time we got these kinds of drinks together,” he makes a face that tells the others in the room this is some sort of inside joke. Your eyes roam around his face for a moment as you try to remember the last time you had these sodas together. Andy slowly raises his eyebrows and it clicks in your mind. You feel your eyes widen and your face heat the tiniest bit, “oh nooooo,” you start to laugh, from nerves and entertaining memories in equal measure. He nods, grin growing wider somehow, “Sophie’s house, right before college.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers, “yeah, I forgot about that,” you laugh. “I didn’t,” Andrew chuckles, “I doubt Sophie’s forgotten about it either.” You bat at his shoulder and bury your face in your other hand, “oh my god, shut up.” You hear Andrews laugh from behind your hand. “Wait, I gotta know what this is about,” JJ chuckles, no doubt excited to have something to tell Prentiss later. “Noooo,” you groan, uncovering your face to try and reach a hand over Andrew's mouth before he can spill your secrets. He lifts from the chair slightly and bats your hand away with a raucous laugh, “oh, I’ll tell you.” You eventually give up and sink into your chair, pulling your knees up as high as you can to bury your face, covering your head with your arms. You can feel Spencer's eyes on you as he sits silently. You know this story won’t be his favorite and you’re trying to prepare for the effect it’ll have.

“You guys might not know this, but she used to be a party girl,” you can hear the smug smile through your arms. JJ gasps quietly, surely for effect as the team already knew you were a little wild as a teen, “really?” “Oh yeah,” Andy continues, “this one time, we went to our friend Sophie's house while her parents were out of town. It was the weekend before a bunch of us were leaving for college, so we wanted one more big party.” “As the party started winding down a bunch of us went downstairs to the den to play some games. When we got down there we couldn’t decide what to play. One of our friends took the soda bottles,” he gestures between you as you peek over the plane of your arm, “the two of us had and suggested we play spin the bottle.” You turn your head slightly to see Reid immediately tense. “This one over here,” Andrew juts a thumb in your direction, “was the star of the night. For whatever reason the bottle really favored her so she ended up-” You fling your hands out in a ‘halt’ motion, “okaaaaayyyyy, that’s enough of that story!” JJ chuckles, “wait no, I have questions.” “I will allow for three questions,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face. JJ giggles quietly, “so how many people did you kiss?” You grimace and look at Andrew, “how many people were there?” “Six if we don’t count you or me,” he says, matter of fact. You cover the blush on your face with one hand, “so…seven…” JJ laughs in surprise, “wait, so you two have kissed,” she points between the two of you. “Yes, and I’m counting that as a question,” you almost shout trying to get the sentence out. She just grins, excited to have this new info. Andrew interjects, “I will say, so she doesn’t get too embarrassed, it was just kissing. There was no seven minutes in heaven shenanigans going on.”

“Oh wow, my hero, thank you so much,” you sneer at him, your words dripping with sarcasm. JJ waves a hand to stop the tangent, “so I’m sure I already know the answer, but were substances involved or were you just like that normally?” You can see a mischievous glint in her eye, this is more friendly teasing than a real question, “yes. I was not normally just kissing all my friends.” Andrew laughs, “only when we played certain games. Jeremy definitely thought you guys were going to end up together after that night though. I honestly thought we would end up a thing and-” Spencer stands from his chair, cellphone in hand, “hey, can I speak to you in the hall? Hotch just sent me something for the two of us.” You find his eyes and find yourself recoiling and wanting to reach for the darkness behind them. His speech is clipped and you can feel the irritation in his voice and see it in the tension of his shoulders. “Yeah, of course,” you rise to standing, “be right back guys," you smile at your team members. JJ gives you a smile, “let me know if you guys need anything!”

As soon as you’re through the door Spencer grabs your wrist and starts to lead you towards the storage hallway. “Spencer, wait, where are we going,” you whisper shout. He doesn’t respond, you can see the tick of his jaw over his shoulder. He’s pissed and you can’t tell if he’s about to lecture you, shout, or put you over his knee. He’s never shouted at you before, but you find yourself wondering how far this anger will go. You sharply turn a corner and are met with a few heavy old doors. He tries handles until one opens and you’re dragged into a dark file room. There’s shelves made into aisles, a few desks, chairs, and lamps spread all through the room. The air feels heavy with dust, the furniture looking to be at least twenty years old. He spins you and pins you by your shoulders to the door. “Spence, I’m so-” “Shut it,” he interrupts you, the flame behind his eyes back to heat you from the inside out.

His fingers twitch against your shoulders as his eyes rove over you. He eventually settles on staring at your mouth, “here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay quiet, you’re going to behave, and you’re going to take whatever I give you until there is no question in your little head of who gets to have you like that. Okay?” You nod your head, already feeling the fog slipping over you. “I need words, gorgeous,” Spencer implores you, “I’m not angry, but I want you to remember what’s mine. if you aren’t comfortable with this we can go back and pretend nothing happened.” “Y-yes, I’m comfortable,” you nod your head again. “Good,” he smiles fondly, “now hush.”

He leans forward and captures your lips with his, the warmth searing into your skin and threatening to burn you alive. He deepens the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip almost immediately and you can feel the barely restrained lust behind his actions. You’ll never know this, but the thing that set him off this time wasn’t even entirely Andrews' fault. He’d started, very vaguely, describing the events of that night and Spencer's mind went wild. He pictured you, dressed down how you did when you weren’t working, maybe wearing a tank top and jeans that hugged you in all the right places. The way your hips and shoulders would roll as you crawled across the floor to the recipient of your kiss. Half hooded eyes and your hair falling effortlessly over one shoulder as you slunk over to them. Suddenly he was in your friend's place as you rose onto your knees, laying one against the outside of his hip as you moved to straddle him on some tacky 80’s carpet. The weight of you on him once you were fully seated, your legs bracketing his. Your gaze dropping to his lips as you leaned in and licked your lips. How you’d taste after a couple drinks. The whoops and chuckles from the other participants, some already having experienced this for themselves, but not the way he gets to. The way your hips always mindlessly grind against him when you’re in this position and how you probably wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from doing it again even with all these people watching. The out of breath sort of way you’d smile after you broke contact. Spencer just couldn’t keep to himself knowing that Andrew got to witness that side of you.

His tongue meets yours, a messy kiss that unfurls something inside you, he tastes like sweetness and coffee. Reid kisses the corner of your mouth and one of his hands leaves your shoulder, coming up to grip the underside of your chin and pushing your face up so he can kiss down your jawline to your neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks, but the contact drives you crazy no matter the briefness. His other hand trails down your body and only momentarily stops to grab at your right breast. His hand travels lower, meeting the hem of your skirt. He slips the tips of his fingers under, brushing against the warm skin of your thigh and causing you to jump slightly, not in shock, but from the build up of so much tension and anticipation. You feel Spencer smile against your collarbone and find yourself flushing, knowing that he must realize how much you need this too. Your skirt slides up your thigh as he hand shifts higher until the lace adorning your hips is under his fingertips. His teeth brush against the side of your neck where your blood is pumping a mile a minute. Spencer meets your lips again, kissing you hard and hot. He starts to unbutton your blouse with one hand, the other dragging your leg to curve around his hip.

This was one of the only times his height annoyed you. Normally you loved how he slightly towered over you, the way his body could cage you against walls or make you feel shielded with the way he hovered behind you during investigations, but it made these sorts of things hard. You knew that with your back against the door he’d have to stand at a strange angle if he wanted to be inside you, which is where you hoped this was headed. You press the heels of your palms to his chest and push. He looks at you, a little confused and wounded, until you point behind him. One of the desks in the room is already mostly cleared off, aside from an outdated bankers lamp and a few stray papers. Spencer turns back to face you with a wicked glint in his eye. Instead of dropping the leg he has wrapped around him, he pulls your other leg to rest on his hip. Before you can react he brings both hands up your legs to squeeze your ass and lift your hips to meet his. You squeak in surprise as he locks the door and walks you over to the desk. He practically throws you down, a quiet huff of exertion passing his lightly swollen lips. Reid tugs your skirt over your hips and scoots you so your hips meet his again.

He leans down to press his lips to the skin just above your breast, “I bet you don’t even know what you’ve been doing this whole time.” “W-what do you mean,” you stutter as he grinds his hips against you. He chuckles darkly, “acting like you’re not taken. Acting like he’s the greatest thing under the sun, right in my damn face.” You start to argue but a hand on your throat cuts you off, “walking around like I don’t own this beautiful body, like you wouldn’t sell your soul to me if you could.” His eyes land on yours and the pure possessiveness in them nearly takes you out. You let out a pathetic whine, letting your head fall back and praying it’s enough to keep you from unraveling. He ruts against you again and lets you feel the effect you’ve had on him pressed hard and scorching against your barely covered cunt. You press against him and draw matching whimpers out of both of you. He drags his hands up the outside of your thighs, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as possible.

“I was willing to let so much slide,” Spencer puffs out as his fingers play with the border of your underwear, “but you guys just kept pushing my buttons.” You bite back the noise that almost slips from you when he slides his tongue parallel to the edge of the cup of your bra. He mouths at your nipple through the thin mesh cup and you try to press your hips against him again. One hand holds you in place with his thumb using near bruising force against your hip, the other migrates to hover over your weeping pussy. You start to protest, but he shifts your panties to the side and immediately glides a finger between your folds. He chuckles, “you’re soaked. If I didn’t know better I’d think you told him to say all those things so you could get this reaction from me.”

You whine and thrust your hips towards his hand without even meaning to. Reid tuts like he’s disappointed, “hush and be patient.” You open your mouth to say something, but it turns into a jumble of words as one finger enters you, “ohmygod.” “Hm,” he hums, tilting his head and raking his eyes over the parts of you that are exposed to him, “you’re lucky I’m prepping you. I wanted to just tear into you the second we got in here, but I’m more polite than that.” “T-thank you," you whimper, one hand jumping to hold onto his shoulder as he adds a second finger and pumps them in and out of you. “You’re very welcome, angel.” Spencer pulls down one cup of your bra after the other, gently lifting your tits from the comfortable mesh so he has access to them. He kisses you, burning and rough, his hand cupping your jaw. After a moment he hooks his fingers inside of you in tandem with a sudden breaking of the kiss so he can watch you react. You don’t disappoint as your eyebrows draw together and your mouth falls open on a strangled mewl.

“Look at that, I didn’t even have to ask you to open for me,” he smirks as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip then lets it glide into your mouth. Spencer presses on your tongue and jaw just enough to have you stuck in his hold, then dips his head. He swirls his tongue around one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. The need for his thumb in your mouth is made obvious when you have to fight to stay quiet immediately upon contact. He laves his tongue over your warm flesh while his fingers pick up speed. The hand on his shoulder travels up to the nape of his neck, finding its home in his hair. He groans against you, the sound muffled by your flushed peak in his mouth. You tug on his hair and rip a whine from his lips. He freezes for a moment. You look down and find his deep eyes watching you. He removes his thumb from your mouth, squeezing your jaw like a warning before removing it from your body entirely. Reid goes back to what he was doing and you let your eyes roll back as you cover your mouth. You distantly pick up on the sound of clinking, but you know the doors locked so you don’t focus on it.

You can feel your orgasm approaching. Warmth pools in your core, your legs start to feel fuzzy, and you can feel yourself losing strength in the hand that covers your mouth. You unintentionally tug on his hair again and this time he groans deeply. “Knock it off,” his voice is so muffled that you almost ignore it entirely, but the huskiness excites you too much to properly write off as background noise. Your body starts to tense as you tumble towards your end. Your toes curl, your grip on his hair and your face tighten, and you arch towards Spencer. He suddenly pulls his fingers from you, ripping away your orgasm with them. He stands up to his full height again, eyes ever watching your face.

“Nonononono-,” you whine despite the disapproving look he gives you. Your complaints are cut off when the blunt head of his cock suddenly rams into you. The hand that isn’t holding himself comes up to press against your lips, silencing the noise that tears from your throat. He lets out a deep groan that’s more like a growl as he sinks into you, the sound rumbles through his chest and you swear it knocks your brain loose because all thoughts and rationality slip away as he fills you. The orgasm you lost comes exploding back into your body as you clamp down on the sudden intrusion and arch into him. Your arm instinctively wraps around his shoulders and pull him towards you for support as your whole body is taken over with fireworks and warmth. “Oh fuck,” he moans quietly.

You come back into your body, regaining control and a hint of sanity as you focus back on what Spencer's doing. He sits with his hips pressed to yours and breathes deeply, closing his eyes momentarily. Spencer opens them again, “do you remember what I said,” he asks you, “about taking whatever I give you?” You nod your head. “Good. You’re doing so good, angel.” He draws his hips back and only gives you a moment to prepare before he’s punching into you. You shriek behind his hand, luckily it muffles it enough that you aren’t worried. Normally Spencer would start gently, letting you get used to him, but you don’t have time today. You groan at the harsh pressure in your core. It hurts, but just enough to make you want more.

‘Of course you had to pick the hung nerd that’s perfectly fine with fucking you in a storage closet at work,’ you curse yourself. Spencer grabs your arms and moves your hands to rest against his chest, not stopping the movement of his hips. He then grabs both your wrists and pushes them against your chest, “lay down darling, it’ll be easier that way.” You listen, not even thinking of how dusty the desk could be, and lower yourself until your back hits the desk. He keeps hold of your wrists and face as he finds a punishing pace to thrust into you.

“You know,” he pants, “we could’ve been doing this in the hotel, but you just had to push it, huh?” You shake your head at him. “Don’t lie. First it was about Andrew, then today you come in wearing this little skirt to top it off? And then I have to hear about you getting passed around a party,” he smirks, “the only time I want you at that kind of party is if I bring you there and get to take you home.” Your eyes roll back as his grip on your wrists becomes almost too much. He’s panting and grunting above you, hair mussed and collar crooked and it’s going to do you in too fast if you don’t avert your eyes. Spencer slams into you, “I bet he’s never gotten to see you like this, right beautiful? Only I get to see you all fucked out and begging for more. He’s never had you chained to the bed and coming undone over and over, has he? He probably doesn’t even know how rough you like it or that you want someone to tell you what to do. He’s never seen you crawl across a room to suck his cock just because he asked you to.” You moan wildly under his hand, your body going limp as he drives you crazy. He lets you go to press his thumb against your throbbing clit and you feel yourself wail before you even hear the muffled sound that makes it through his other hand. He makes dizzying circles over the bud, pleasure ripping through you as you approach another orgasm.

“I-if- fuck- if I let you talk will you be good? No one can hear us or I-I’ll have to stop,” he asks, struggling through his words. You nod your head frantically, wanting to do whatever he wants of you. “Good girl,” he growls, letting you get out one last whine at his praise before uncovering your face. “Thank you,” you near whisper. He smiles, “who do you belong to?” “Y-you,” you bite back a moan. He groans, fucking into you deeper, “who does this pretty cunt belong to?” Your body strains and you see him fight to not react as you clamp down on him, “you, y-you.” “Such a good girl for me,” he drops his head briefly, fighting back sounds, “not for anybody else.” “Just for you, Spence.” “Fuck,” he throws his head back before looking at you with so much hunger it might scare you if you weren’t so insanely into this side of him, “just for me. No one else makes you feel like this, right baby?” You nod your head, the fire in you starting to swallow all your senses as it creeps higher, “just you. No one else has ever made me feel like this.” “You’re so perfect,” his hips start to falter, his thumb pressing against you harder. Your eyes struggle to stay focused the closer you get to cumming. “You own me, baby. All of me,” you manage to get out as you slip off the edge.

Spencer’s hips slam into you roughly as his head falls to your chest. He’s curled over you as his hand flies back to cover your mouth and stop the noise that starts to climb your throat. He bites into your flesh just above your left nipple as his orgasm washing over him in tandem with yours. You cum together, your whole body tightening and spasming as the ecstasy washes over your body like a crushing wave. You feel the warmth explode inside of you as he loses his composure and lets your skin muffle the deep growling moan he unleashes as he fills you.

Masterlist Previous Chapter Chapter 1

It’d been two weeks since Spencer Reid had gone home. You were sprawled on your couch in the afternoon sunlight reading a report with your arms stretched above you, when your phone dinged to life. You reach over, grabbing your phone off the table and perusing your notifications. Your eyes light up when you see Spencer's name on your screen. He had been away on a case since about four days after he got home, so you’d only been hearing from him sporadically. ‘I’m finally free, arriving home in approximately 10 minutes. I hope life has been treating you well. - your exhausted friend, S.R.’ You can’t help the smile that breaks out across your face as you read his message, quickly typing out your response. ‘Good to hear! I’ve been bored out of my mind. I’m reading a report on a specimen we just got in at work. - your very weary friend’ ‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting such a fast response. Miss me or something? What’s the specimen?’ ‘Oh yeah, you know I just can’t live without hearing from you. It’s some false teeth from the 1600s, they’re just on loan from someone in Germany.’ ‘Yeah? If you miss me that bad then maybe you’d be up for a phone call tonight? I’d love to hear about the teeth.’ ‘Absolutely, just let me know what time and I’ll be awaiting your call, you can hear all about the teeth.’ ‘How’s 6 pm sound?’ ‘Perfect, can’t wait!’

Spencer smiles, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he waits to depart the plane. Across the aisle from him Emily Prentiss impatiently waits to depart as well. She glances at Spencer, puffing a breath as she says, “that was a hell of a time, what do you guys say to drinks?” There are various responses in confirmation from around the plane. Spencer tries to hide his grin from her, “sorry, I have plans.” Emily glances at Derek, exchanging a look that says they want to be nosey about his plans, but neither of them asks. Hotch is seated further up towards the cockpit. He recognizes something in Spencer's tone, but he keeps it to himself.

Spencer pushes the door to his apartment open with his shoulder, immediately dropping his bag just inside his door and kicking off his shoes. He rushes to his room to change into something more comfortable before calling you. His team's goodbyes took longer than expected and it was already fast approaching 6 o'clock. He throws on some soft pants and a plain white tee, hoping to appear nonchalant, despite knowing you can’t see him through a phone call. He realizes he has a few minutes, sighing and finally calming his dash to get ready, and puts his bag and shoes away properly. By the time he’s done it’s about 5:58 so he decides to text you. ‘Are you ready? If not I can wait, I’m just at home.’ As he stares at his screen waiting for a reply, it begins to ring as your contact photo fills his screen. He lets out a surprised squeak as your laughing face appears, unexpected, but he pushes the answer button anyways. “Hello,” his voice comes out more unsure than he’d like as he holds the phone to his ear. Your sweet laughter rings from the other side of the phone, “hey, how’s my favorite nerd?” He smiles at that, “I’m doing alright, just got home a little bit ago. How are you?” He can practically hear the smirk through the phone, “so you didn’t just rush into your house with barely enough time to call me?”

Shit. Busted…somehow. “I’m doing good,” you continue, “work kind of took it out of me today, but I’m good.” “How did you know about me just getting home?” You laugh, “you sounded nervous when you answered and with the past couple phone calls we’ve had, you tend to ask to call me as soon as you’re available. It’d be weird for you to get home, with plans to call me, and still wait without asking to talk earlier than we scheduled.” Spencer blinks in surprise and you answer his silence with a quip, “who’s the master profiler now?” He snorts a laugh, “still me, but nice try.” You return the laugh, a soft giggle filtering through his phone speaker to fill his ears and alight his face with a smile. “So what are you up to,” he asks, stopping himself from getting distracted by your breath echoing in his ears. “Not a whole lot, finished that report I was reading earlier, made myself some dinner, and read a couple chapters while I waited for your call.” Spencer tries to make a joke, falling flat when he says, “and what would you be doing if I was there?” A laugh erupts from your side of the phone, “woah Spence, what kinda question is that? Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?” Spencer blushes to himself, “no- I meant like- uh I-” You cut him off before he can explain what he was trying to say, putting on a dramatically sensual voice you continue, “oohh Spence, what I wouldn’t do if you were here. I’d kiss your pretty little genius face and let you watch my silk robe fall to the floor, revealing that I’m wearing nothing under it, and…I dunno, light some candles or something else romantic.”

You devolve into a fit of laughter, not able to see how completely scarlet he is at the thought of what you’ve just described. His mind wandering to things he’d rather it stay away from for his own sanity. When he speaks again his voice comes out quieter than he means it to, “I swear I was trying to make a joke of some kind. Not that kind,” he laughs nervously. “I know, don’t worry, it was just funny phrasing,” you giggle. He laughs, “do you really own a silk robe? That was a pretty specific detail.” “Well I was trying to come up with something that someone in a cheesy romance might do, but yeah. Or at least I used to. I got one as part of a lingerie set, but I didn’t keep it long since it was in a color my ex hated,” you ramble. Spencer's heart stops for a second, he swears. He imagines you, remembering those pictures he found, adding a soft robe to the memory. “-I’d probably get one again in the future, now that I care less about people pleasing,” you laugh, reminiscing on how different you are now. When Spencer doesn’t respond after a moment you clear your throat dramatically. He shakes his head, ending the spell he’s under and returning to earth. “You good over there,” you chuckle. He nods, as if you can see him, “yep! Just thinking of something.” You pause and he itches, worried you’ll ask follow up questions.

“Do you want to video chat?” He breathes a sigh of relief before panicking again to find a good backdrop and hope he doesn’t look too disheveled after his flight and rush to get ready to call you. “Yeah, sure,” he finally replies. Your face appears once again on his screen, this time with a video chat invitation that he promptly answers. “Hey,” he smiles, happy to see your face again. “Hey! Funny to see you here,” you chirp back. He muffles a laugh, trying to not reveal how cute he thinks you are. “Alright,” you sigh, settling into your seat at your desk, “give me the grand tour!” He blinks, realizing this is your first time seeing any of his home. He hadn’t tidied up since getting back, not that it was a mess, but he’d want things to be perfect the first time you saw it. “Uh, no. You’ll have to wait until you see it in person,” he tries to say smoothly. You gasp, “what? That’s so unfair.” “Hey, I only got to see your place in person,” he puts one hand up defensively. “Yeah, because we just got reintroduced,” you squeak in mock outrage, “whatever, I can wait.” He smirks, “it’s just incentive for you to come visit me.” “Whatever,” you grumble through a grin. “Tell me about your day,” he smiles back at you, getting you both on track again.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you. Your face is flushed from the warmth in your apartment, your hair falling loosely, cascading over your skin, your eyes dewy in the low light from your desk lamp. You’re wearing a lace lined camisole top, he thinks it must be pajamas. As you talk with one hand flitting all around to emphasize your feelings, he can’t stop himself from staring as one strap slips down your shoulder. The shift in fabric drags the neckline down a bit, exposing more cleavage than he’s prepared for. He stares unabashedly, something he’d be too nervous to do in person, but with the digital barrier, and his sleep deprivation from travel, he lets his animalistic urges win a little. His thoughts drift. He imagines kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving across your collar bone, sliding the other strap down until he can slip the whole top down your body and feel how soft you are in his hands. He imagines his hands skimming down your body, feeling every curve of your body until- “-so then he asked me out, but I-” Spencer's heart drops to his feet. He had been so caught up in his fantasies that he was barely listening. Okay, he wasn’t listening at all. “What,” he interrupts, stopping your roll momentarily. Your eyes flick to his face on your screen again, “I know right? Who asks out their coworker, while they’re working, in the middle of the day? It was so unprofessional.” He watches your face, telling himself to pay attention to more than your body and what he could only dream of doing. “-but I told him no. Well, actually I told him I’d think about it, but once I have the courage it’ll be a no. I don’t think we’d line up at all and I have a thing against dating a coworker,” you continue on. “Why wouldn’t you line up,” he asks.

He’s told himself you’re off limits, so he also tells himself that he isn’t gathering intel to figure out what you like and need from a partner. “Okay, this is insider museum employee knowledge,” you say dramatically, “no matter what, you can never reveal this to another museum worker.” Spencer makes a motion like he’s zipping his lips shut, finishing it with a nod to signify you can go on. “So one of the girls in the documents department dated him for about three months. When they broke up we all got the tea on their relationship and, apparently, he has an issue with…going down,” you whisper the last part. Spencer cocks his head, throwing on a confused face and hoping you’ll clarify. “He, um, he doesn’t eat out, if you get what I’m saying,” you circle your hands, trying to lead him to what you mean. “Oh. OH,” Spencer finally utters. “Yeaaahh,” you confirm, “and while that might not be an issue for some people, it is for me.” Part of Spencer's brain lights up like a christmas tree, he chooses to ignore the part of his brain that’s reacting, to save himself the embarrassment. “I just can’t give up that kind of pleasure for a man, I guess,” you laugh, “been there, done that, it’s not worth it.” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “let me guess, your ex?” “Oh who else,” you laugh, “he did it once, ya know? It was fantastic, actually. The weight of his tongue, the way his breath felt against me, the way he somehow knew how to hit every spot I needed…” Spencer fades away again, imagining him in your ex’s place. His head between your thighs, you moaning his name, the way you’d taste and feel against his tongue. He registers that he’s near panting now, his pants suddenly feeling tighter as you continue discussing the delights of receiving what you need. “…but there’s other things too, like he tried to introduce my coworker to his mom on the third date.”

Spencer resurfaces from the depths of his mind, blinking hard to wipe his thoughts. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he tries to sound like he’s been listening. You nod and fill him in on a few more details of why you don’t want to date this coworker. He continues to drift in and out of the conversation, hopelessly distracted by the conversation topic and your, still descending, shirt strap. Finally deciding he needs to put an end to his daydreaming, he pipes up, “your tank top strap is falling.” You glance down, flushing at how much it’s moved and pulling it back into place. Hoping to distract from how flustered you are, you smile, “actually it’s a nightgown!” Before Spencer really has time to react you prop your phone against your lamp and stand up. You reveal the, rather short, nightgown, twirling in a few small circles to show it off. Spencer's heart thuds in his chest, part from the love sick puppy side that can't stand how cute you are, and part from the overly excited part of his brain that notices how easy it would be to take that piece of clothing off. ‘Jesus christ,’ he thinks to himself, ‘what is wrong with me?’ You sit back down, “anyways, I’ve been rambling. How was your day?” He welcomes the distraction, “the flight was alright, the case wrapped up nicely, and I finished one of the books you recommended to me!” “Awesome! What’d you think,” your eyebrows shoot up as you await an answer. He beams at you, “I loved it! The color symbolism and use of flowers was incredibly interesting!” You clap your hands together, “I knew you’d like it!” Spencer smiles, suddenly feeling very tired from his day of travel. As if you can read his mind you suddenly give him a soft smile. “Are you feeling tired?” He frowns slightly, “yeah, but I don’t want to stop talking.” “We can talk tomorrow, don’t make yourself stay up for me,” you give him a smile that would almost read as pitying if he didn’t know better. He doesn’t catch himself before thinking ‘I’d do anything for you.’ “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckles.

You reluctantly exchange your goodbyes and end the call, suddenly he’s alone in his apartment again. Scrubbing his hand down his face he sighs, wondering how to get his interest in you out of his system so it doesn’t make your friendship harder. He thinks on it, willing his lower half to calm down after that conversation, as he gets up to throw some laundry in the machine. As he tosses his clothes in, something falls onto the floor. He glances down to see a small crumpled bit of something red that he doesn’t recognize. He leans down, picking up the soft material with two fingers, uncrumpling it as he stands upright again.

Unfolded in his hands is a lacy red thong. He buffers for a moment, not recognizing it for longer than he’d like to admit. When it finally clicks for him he gasps, practically throwing the piece of material to the floor as he jumps back. He stands there frozen, staring at the beckoning fabric. After a moment of pause, he picks it up again. He holds it in his hands, just breathing as he stares at it. He realizes it must have been wrapped up in his clothes when you’d done his laundry. He’s engulfed in thoughts of you wearing the item, dancing around in your room, slipping it off at the end of a long night, or discarded on the floor as you rush to get into bed. Something finally snaps in his brain. He marches back to his room, shutting the door behind him. He lays down in his bed, already disappointed in himself, but unable to stop. He slides his hand down his body, catching on the hem of his pants before gliding under it. His fingers brush his length and he immediately sighs at the contact. ‘It’s just been a while,’ he tells himself, ‘it’s been almost three weeks so I’m just pent up.’ His brain flashed back to the last time he’d touched himself, trying to be silent in your bathroom as you slept in the other room. He had waited, but his issue wasn’t going away and he finally gave in. He let his fingers wrap around his length, gingerly removing himself from his pants. He grips the base of his cock, sighing as he accepts his decisions. He pumps his hand up his length slowly, sighing at the feeling as tension starts to leave his body. He moves his hand up and down, throwing his other forearm over his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” he groans, dragging his hand over himself.

This was, admittedly, the second time this had happened. The last time had also been the last time he’d touched himself in general. He woke up next to you, hard enough that it hurt, from a dream he had. The dream involved you, dressed in a flowing see through dress. You climbed onto his lap and guided his hands over you, eventually slipping the dress off and letting him explore you on his own. Upon waking up he practically ran to the bathroom. He waited around for a while, hoping his erection would go down, but it wouldn’t. So he took care of it, with one hand over his mouth and a chest full of shame. The difference was that before he had tried to keep himself from thinking of you, failing spectacularly, but he tried. This time he let himself think of you. He pictures those photos he found of you, your cute little nightgown, that robe you’d mentioned, the underwear he’d accidentally brought home with him, and he lets the shame swallow him. His overwhelmingly horny brain masking the shame and cloaking it with something bigger. He pictures his lips kissing their way down your body. Your neck, chest, stomach, hips, until he finally found you sweet center. He thinks of how you’d taste, how you’d wrap your legs around his head and scream his name. His hand tightens on himself, working faster as he throws his head back and groans. A deep sound rumbling through his chest as he pictured you on top of him, being the thing gripping him so tight. He moans your name, over and over, as he delves into his fantasies. Pinning you to your bed and learning every centimeter of your skin. Filling his senses with you until he could think of nothing else. Making you scream his name until your neighbors know who he is. He moans loudly, biting down on his forearm as he spills all over himself, hoping to muffle some of his sounds. He strokes himself one, two, three more times as he comes down from his high with your name on his lips. He quickly wipes himself off with the tissues he keeps near his bed, immediately flopping back down and burying his head in his hands. As good as it felt to imagine you, the immediate sobering shame afterwards is hard to cope with. He feels like a horrible friend as he realizes that this wasn’t a passing crush or simply a way to cope with him losing you for so long. He wanted you. He needed you.

You hit the ‘end call’ button and immediately flop back in your chair, letting out a heavy sigh. You run your hands through your hair, wondering about why you said half the things you said. You knew discussing those topics with him would have an unwanted effect on you, but he was listening so intently that you just kept going, craving his attention. As you talked your hands jumped around and you eventually became aware of your rogue strap, but figured it was fine. You wondered if he was bothered by your exposed skin, or if maybe he wasn’t bothered, but feeling something else. You quickly shake your head, hoping to remove that thought entirely from your head. While you were talking you were too busy to track where his eyes were looking at the little image of you on his phone, or you'd have noticed how much he devours you, the way his eyes dance across your skin. As you scold yourself you get up and stomp across your apartment, hoping a cool shower will snap you out of your haze.

You turn on the water and test it on the back of your hand before stepping back to get changed. You remove your straps, sliding the nightgown down your body until it pools on the floor. Your brain tortures you with images of Spencer letting it fall off you instead. You groan loudly, pressing your palms against your eyes in exasperation, “this is ridiculous. I’m acting like a teenage girl over someone that wants nothing to do with me.” You step into the water, not giving it time to get to a comfortable temperature in your haste, the cold shocking your body and making you tense. “Jesus christ,” you hiss, promptly turning the faucet to a warmer temperature. As the water warms the real reason you came in here slips from your thoughts. They instead travel to exactly where you were trying to avoid. Your body is warm and pliant under the water, your eyes shutting as if on their own as you let your mind wander.

Your hand travels down your body of its own volition as you picture Spencer. He runs his hands over your naked body, fingers dancing across you. He cups your cunt and presses a kiss to your shoulder before tilting his head up to look you in the eyes, “is this where you want me?” You unabashedly nod your head, pressing your sex against him. “Aw, of course you do, baby,” he coos. He moves his index and middle fingers to your clit, pressing, but not moving. You whine and he chuckles in response, immediately starting to rub dizzying circles against you. You press yourself against him, chasing his touch and trying to avoid begging for more. He reads your mind and lets his fingers travel further until they’re just barely teasing at your entrance. Before you have time to ask for more he’s plunging inside of you, ripping a gasp from your lungs. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, immediately curling his fingers to press against your G-spot. “Oh fuck,” you moan, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself. “Yeah? Is that what you wanted,” his voice is dangerously low, rumbling through your chest.

You let your other hand find your clit, immediately pressing down hard, but in your minds eye Spencer’s hands are big enough to comfortably use his thumb to press against you as his other hand roams your body.

He kisses down your neck and across your collar bone, eventually making his way back up the other side of your neck. His lips find yours and he engulfs you in a fiery kiss. Your tongues dance together as his hand picks up the pace. He presses into you relentlessly as you chase your orgasm. You throw your head back in a lewd moan, leaning yourself against the shower wall behind you as he moves to continue attacking your neck. With one final push of his fingers you’re careening into a thigh shaking orgasm.

You work yourself down from your high as the image of Spencer fades from your mind. Your chest heaves as you erupt in a bright blush over what you just did. “God, I’m screwed," you sigh, returning to your shower under the now cooling water.

In the morning you roll yourself from your bed, fighting the urge to climb back in and ignore the alarm ringing from your phone. You trudge to your bathroom, and then your kitchen, grouchiness practically radiating off you. You hadn’t slept well, weird dreams haunting you. Dreams of humiliation and awkward situations that made you want to hide from the world. Your day brightened slightly when you finally checked your phone and saw a notification from your favorite FBI profiler. ‘Thought you’d want to see this. Hope you slept well.’ Attached was a photo of a very old bottle of some kind of medication. Looking at the photo closer it appears he’s in someone's house so you shoot back, ‘Are you sending pictures of evidence to me now? I slept terribly, but I’ll live.’ You set your phone down, not expecting a response until much later when he has time, but your phone almost immediately dings again. ‘Ha, no, that’s something my friend got at a thrift store. I just thought you’d like it. She says it has a ghost trapped in it or something. I’m sorry you slept poorly. I didn’t sleep great either, I had a lot of weird dreams.’ You laugh to yourself, noting that you and your friend have similar sleep issues. ‘It probably does, old containers like that are a major ghost attractor. That’s why the museum's so haunted. Hopefully you sleep better tonight.’ ‘I’ll let her know about the ghost thing. I hope you do too.’

As you pull up to the museum you see the car of someone you were hoping to avoid today. You grab your things and speed to your office, hoping to go unnoticed. As you shut the door behind you, you hear someone call your name from down the hall. You sigh, deflating against the door as you wait for him to knock. As sure as death, moments later there’s a knock at your door. You’re still setting your bag down and moving to put your coat away, but you open the door anyway. Standing in your doorway is Thomas from archival. He props himself against your doorway, cocky as ever, as his name drips off his lips, “how’s it going?” “Good, just got in,” you give him a tight smile, moving to hang your coat up. He saunters in and leans against your desk, “soooo…” He starts, but doesn’t really finish, staring at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows at him, beckoning him to continue. He clears his throat and straightens up, slightly awkward, “have you given my proposal any thought? I think it’s a pretty good deal,” he gives you a smug grin. You internally roll your eyes at how cocksure he is, “I have, actually.” Before he has time to respond you continue, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to date coworkers, for me personally. I’m sure you’re a lovely date, but I don’t want the risk of anything interpersonal making work messy.” His smile drops, “so no? You’re turning me down?” You nod softly, hoping to not completely crush him, even if he is a little overzealous. “But if we didn’t work together then you’d say yes,” he crosses his arms. You look away, feeling awkward, “maybe, yeah.” He sighs, “alright, I guess that’s fair. Can’t blame a guy for trying though.” You nod, scooting behind your desk to hopefully signal you have to work. He turns, waving over his shoulder as he leaves, “have a good one.” You return the sentiment and pull out your files for the day.

As your day crawls on you find your mind drifting back to Spencer. As you stand in one of the exhibit halls discussing some work politics with one of the other curators, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You try to discreetly check the notification, but you're powerless to the big grin that breaks out across your face when you see his name on your screen. You tamp down your smile and turn your attention back to your colleague to find her smiling expectantly at you. “Who’s that,” she smirks. You laugh anxiously, “oh nothing important, just one of my friends checking on me.” “Uh huh,” she chuckles, “and you normally react like that when your friends text you?” You can feel yourself starting to blush, “like what? Smiling?” Your colleague barks a laugh, “Smiling? You just looked like a high schooler that got asked to homecoming.” You laugh louder than you mean to in your nervous state, “I just got excited. I haven’t seen them in a while.” “Sure, whatever you say,” she smiles at you smugly. You move the conversation forward, changing the subject and allowing yourself a break, focusing instead on placement of a display.

Returning back to your office briefly, you slide your phone from your pocket. You tap it to life, immediately finding Spencer's message in your notifications. ‘Are you bored to death yet? I sure am with all the paperwork I have to do today.’ ‘God, yes!! I have a meeting in 10 and I want to skip it and take a nap so bad.’ You grab the things you need for your meeting and start to head to the conference room hiding in the depths of the museum , your phone propped on top of your papers as you await a response. Entering the hall that leads to the behind the scenes areas of the museum, you’re met by Thomas sidling up to your side and matching your pace. “Hey,” he raises one hand in greeting. You wave your fingers at him as best you can without dropping your belongings. “So, I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. I think it’s best to wait,” he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. You try to not sound annoyed when you answer, “can we avoid talking about this at work for now, I’d rather talk about this when I’m not focusing on a million other things, ya know?” He nods, but starts to counter you when your phone dings. You see him follow your eyes to the screen, an immediate shift in him when he reads the screen. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can…’ The end of the message is cut off, but he clearly reads something into it that isn’t there. “Oh. Yeah, I get it,” he mutters. You praise whatever sweet mercy there is when you reach the conference room and find it already filling up with others. You sit next to one of your closest friends and slump into your seat as Thomas seats himself elsewhere. You greet your friend and quickly check your messages while everyone waits for the meeting time to strike. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can talk about our days at work and compare boredom.’ ‘I’m so down for that. You’ll probably win, my day involves a lot more talking than paperwork currently.’ You smile and put your phone back in your pocket, not missing the scowl from Thomas, as you join in the conversation. The meeting goes well, just a basic brainstorming and planning session for the upcoming holiday season, and before you know it you’re getting ready to head home.

As you lock up your office for the night, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. Tearing down the hall is Thomas. ‘Of course he’s ambushing me,’ you think to yourself, rolling your eyes slightly. “Hey! Are you off the clock,” he asks as he reaches you. ‘This is unavoidable, I might as well get it over with,’ you decide to not run from him, even though you probably could. “Yeah, what’s up?” “You could have just told me you had a boyfriend,” he tries, and fails, to hide the bitterness in his expression. You put on a sickly sweet disposition, “I don’t.” “Then who’s Spencer,” he crosses his arms, as if you owe him an explanation. You keep your overly nice act, hoping to avoid a real confrontation, “you met him at the gala. He’s a childhood friend of mine, he was with Hassan and his out of work friends.” Thomas suddenly looks embarrassed, but not any less suspicious, “ah, okay, I vaguely remember him.” You reach your arm up slightly above your head, “the tall guy, kinda gangly looking?” He seems to brighten at how you describe Spencer, as if he’s somehow pleased with your word choice, “oh yeah, I remember him now. Are you guys just friends?” You bristle at his words, once again like he’s entitled to know these things, “yeah, just friends. He’s known me longer than anyone else in my life, we’re just super close.” He nods in thought, seemingly satisfied, “alright, well let me know if things change. Between us I mean. I’d love a shot at getting to be the special guy in your life,” he ends with a wink, sauntering away before you have time to think of a response. You drag your hand down your face, sighing, ‘what is his deal? I told him no, I gave him a reason even when I didn’t have to, and I even answered his invasive questions.’

You walk to your car and check your phone, delighting when you see multiple messages from Spencer. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m back home, I have so much boredom to tell you about.’ ‘Just remembered, I was going to ask for updates on that guy you mentioned. Anything new?’ ‘Made it home! I’m free whenever you are.’ You quickly shoot back a text, noticing that he’s been waiting on a response for almost thirty minutes. ‘I’ll be home soon! Just now leaving work.’ You speed home, impatient to fill him in on Thomas, and quickly put away your belongings when you get there.

You flop down on the couch and fire off a text to let him know you’re ready, just in case he isn’t waiting on you like you wait on him. Your phone lights up with his face, that goofy picture you got of him sleeping, and you speedily hit the answer button. “Helloooooo Spencey boy,” you laugh at the vaguely disgusted noise from him. “Hello, don’t call me that,” the last bit is struggling through a laugh as if he can’t hold it in. You flip over onto your stomach, putting him on speaker, “how are you doing? Did you survive the paperwork?” He chuckles, “barely, I almost lost my hand from working so hard.” “I’m proud of you for making it then,” you smile. He sighs quietly, “how are you? Any updates you need to share?” There’s something in his voice you can’t place, but you don’t dwell on it, “I have so much in way of updates. I turned him down!” “How’d that go,” this time you can identify what’s in his voice. You don’t know why, but it’s very clearly relief.

“Well he seemed upset, honestly. I told him we shouldn’t date because we work together and he got all tense. He asked if I’d date him if we didn’t work together and then later he ambushed me on the way to our meeting. He said he ‘thinks it’s better to wait’ like he thinks it’s inevitable or something. Once I was off for the day he ambushed me again,” you groaned. Spencer sounded upset, not at you, but at the situation, “what did he want then?” You sigh, rolling your eyes, “well when we were on the way to the meeting you texted me and I think he misread it as something romantic. He basically told me that if I was going to turn him down then I should have just said I have a boyfriend, so I told him I don’t and he was like, ‘let me know if things between us change because I really want a chance.’ It was just kind of uncomfortable.” Spencer remains silent for a long while. Just when you start to think you’ve lost him, he pipes up again, “he sounds like he doesn’t respect your boundaries.” You nod, “he doesn’t. It’s never that much of an issue, but it is annoying.” Spencer sighs from the other line, “you’re too forgiving,” he says your name, not like he’s disappointed, but like he’s resigned himself to worrying about you. “If you ever need someone to intimidate him into leaving you alone, just let me know, I work with some pretty scary people,” he sounds deathly serious through the phone. You laugh, your mood lifting, “thanks Spence.”

You roll onto your back, holding the phone in the air above you, “what did you get up to today? Besides paperwork?” You hear him rustling around, probably settling more into whatever seat he’s in, “well I got coffee. I brought some to one of my friends before we came into work, hence why you got that photo, and then I worked until I decided I needed to eat.” “What’d you eat,” you chime. He snickers quietly, “just a sandwich and some fruit, nothing fancy.” “Sounds good though,” you giggle as you suddenly realize how hungry you are. “It was,” his voice is soft and comforting as he regales you with his day, “so then I worked more, we took a quick break to see some new things Garcia got for her office-” “That’s the computer lady, right,” you try to remember. “Mhm, she’s the one with all the trinkets I mentioned,” he confirms. You nod to yourself as he continues on, “then I just did random tasks until we all went home. Well, all of us besides Hotch, he usually stays later.” You remember Hotch as the stoic boss that Spencer likes, “sounds like a pretty good day!” “It was,” you can hear his smile through the phone, "just kind of boring compared to active cases. I never mind, a little break is always nice, but I’m so used to being go, go, go at this point that anything else feels kind of weird.” “I can understand that, I bet it feels weird to have nothing immediately dangerous going on.” “Definitely. Don’t get me wrong, we do get a fair amount of down time between cases, but after such a long one it feels weird.”

You nod thoughtfully, eventually getting the bravery to ask something you’ve been thinking about, “will you ever tell me about your cases? I know you told me some, but I mean like, the big ones.” Spencer pauses, clearly thinking of his words, “at some point I’d like to tell you more. I mostly just worry about upsetting you or exposing you to something unnecessarily harmful. I do want to tell you about my profession though. I think it might just be down the line.” “You won’t upset me, but I completely understand. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to tell me.” Spencer puffs a breath on the other end of the line, “thank you for being so understanding. Would you like to hear about one case that I do want to tell you about?" You perk up at that, happy to have him open up more, “absolutely.” “Okay, so there was this guy you might have seen on the news. His name was Peter Redding, he operated near you…”

A/N: This is chapter 4! This one is more focused on the emotions as they say goodbye for now. Don't hate me for how much I've been edging you guys with this one lol Thank you to anyone who's following along even though there's no smut yet! Next chapter will be posted on February 27th, so hang tight. Love you guys!

Masterlist Previous Chapter Chapter 1

You can’t sleep. You know that tomorrow he’ll be leaving. The clock taunts you, minutes flicking by faster than you want, time slipping past you like it knows how much this hurts. You know that you promised to stay in touch, but how long can that really last? You’re both adults with demanding jobs. His job might send him across the world at a moment's notice, or undercover in a situation that he can’t reach out for weeks on end. Your job, frequently, leads to you getting sucked into research rabbit holes where you forget to come up for air for 12 hours at a time. I mean, long distance is hard on long term romantic relationships, how hard would it be on a regular friendship? You have a foggy notion of recognition that this isn’t a regular friendship, but you push it away. As if you haven’t been completely inseparable since you reunited. As if he isn’t currently wrapped around your body like a particularly brazen ivy vine. You had briefly fallen asleep, the draining day at work taking you to a dreamless sleep, and when you woke a few hours later, there he was. He seemed at home against your skin, his hand tucked under your shirt and splayed across your ribs, he looked like he was right where he wanted to be.

As you waited to fall back asleep, you decided to scroll through your phone. Videos of cute animals, posts about new archaeological finds, stupid puns, anything to distract you. A video appeared in your feed, someone posting about taking pictures of your partner holding you while they sleep. Just a cute candid of the person most important to you to save for later. You giggle to yourself, the distraction having worked, and use the early morning rays seeping through your blinds to sneak a selfie of your unconscious friend. You can be seen in the bottom corner, sticking your tongue out as if to tease him. Spencer's hair is mussed, his cheek pressed to the top of your head and squishing his face slightly, a barely-there smile hiding in your hair. You think how good this will be for some sort of funny blackmail later and finally let yourself try to sleep again.

When you wake up, it’s about 8:30 and you’re still in Spencer's arms. This time you don’t leave. You don’t pretend to sleep. You don’t move away. You let yourself soak in as much of him as you can. You grab the book from your nightstand and thumb through it while you wait for him to wake up.

-

Spencer is roused by the rogue sun beams filtering through your blinds, a soft humming noise reaching his ears as he comes to life. One of his arms is under your head, the other draped over your waist. He has a hand in your shirt somehow and one of his legs is wrapped around one of your legs and slightly tucked between them. ‘Like I couldn’t possibly get close enough,’ he muses to himself. He exhales deeply, shutting his eyes and allowing himself to wake up before moving away from you. As he lays there and floats in your presence he realizes the humming sound hasn’t stopped. His eyes snap open, ‘they’re humming,’ he thinks as panic starts to fill him. ‘Are they awake,’ his fingers fidget against your skin. After a moment of being frozen in shock, he leans to look over your shoulder. Sure enough, you’re scrolling through some app as you hum quietly to yourself.

Your eyes suddenly flick to the movement over your shoulder. You felt him move, but figured he was just shifting in his sleep like he had been. “Oh hey, you’re up,” you beam up at him. His face is scarlet, you know it’s because you didn’t move away from him this time, but you can’t seem to make yourself worry too much. “H-hi, yeah, I’m u-up,” he stammers, clearly nervous as his fingers continue to twitch against you. After a moment of silence, he starts to move away, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You quickly grab his hand, “wait!” You stare at each other in silence, both stunned at your outburst. “I- uh, just figured, since it’s your last day,” your eyes drift away, color taking over your cheeks, “I wouldn’t mind a little physical contact before you leave for god knows how long.” Spencer remains frozen, hovering over you like a statue with his breath caught somewhere in his throat. Just as it starts to be too long since he’s moved he speaks up, “I’d love that if you’re really okay with it.” You nod and smile, “I’m definitely okay with it.” With that, Spencer settles back behind you with his face tilted to see your phone over the back of your head. “Have you seen this,” you lift your phone higher to show him a silly cat video you found online. He barks a laugh, “I haven’t seen it, but that’s amazing.” You turn slightly so he can watch your phone with you, scrolling through funny animal videos, and other goofy shortform videos on your feed. His giggles fill the air, floating through the sunrays like moats of dust, it fills you with joy, hearing him in your home in the comfort of his arms.

As the time passes you get more comfortable, turning to face him and share your phone screen more easily, Spencer's hand still pressed to your bare skin under your shirt. You feel his breath against your cheek, warm and distracting. He shifts against you occasionally, moving his arms or legs to adjust his position, and you find yourself chasing his touch every time he gets slightly too far away from you for your own liking. It’s not at the forefront, but the background noise in your mind is being controlled by worries about the current situation. ‘Am I too close? Does he like this? Why do I like this? What am I even doing? Are we going to talk about it?’

As if he’s read your mind, which with his profiling skills he probably has, he pipes up, “are you doing okay? What are you thinking about?” You mull over your words for a moment before answering, “are we going to talk about it?” He swallows hard, maybe automatically or maybe because he’s forgotten that you’re close enough to notice, “talk about what?” You sigh, “the cuddling. This.” Spencer relaxes against you slightly, only tensing again when you shift to look him in the eye. “Can I be honest,” he drops his voice lower, sincerity dripping from his words. You flush, scared of what he’s about to say, “always.” “You do this every night. When you fall asleep, you reach out for me and try to get as close to me as possible, so I hold you while you sleep.” Your system floods with embarrassment, face turning bright pink. “What,” your voice cracks slightly as you stare up at him. His face breaks into an adorable smile as he giggles at you, “yeah, I think you’re touch starved.” He notices your brain breaking and tries to stop his laughing, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I completely understand. I spend most of my life alone so I get the same way.” You bring your hands to your face, squealing quietly into your palms as you hide from Spencer, “oh my god, I can’t believe this.” You break into a fit of laughter, still hiding behind your hands, “I’m so sorry, this whole time I thought you were doing it!” “You knew,” Spencer nearly shrieks the question. “Yeah,” you keep laughing, near hysterics at the sheer goofiness, “I kept waking up before you and moving away because I didn’t want to embarrass you.” Spencer slaps his hand over his eyes, “oh my god. We’re so hopeless.” “We’re so bad at communicating, this is pathetic,” you finally uncover your face. “To be fair, we haven’t communicated since we were 10,” he scrubs his hand down his face with a smile. You giggle, “true.” Spencer shifts to meet your eyes again, “have you noticed me doing anything else in my sleep?” Your mind flashes to the state you woke up in the other day, a feeling you can’t quite identify rushing through you. You ultimately decide to keep the lie going, “nope, unless you count mumbling things.” Spencer chuckles, “good.” After a beat of silence, he continues, “so how are you feeling about this? Does it make you uncomfortable, because I can absolutely keep my distance?" “No, I don’t want distance. We’ve had enough distance. Having you here has been a great comfort and that includes the unconventional sleeping situation. I think it’s fine for us to be platonically affectionate, as long as you’re comfortable,” you reason. Spencer blushes a bit, a strange expression on his face, “I agree. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time and I’m happy to have us back together.”

You hang on the word ‘together’ it feels almost sharp in your chest when you’re laying in his arms, knowing that ‘together’ will never apply to you. “In that case, get over here,” you then throw your arm around him in a hug, pressing your face into his chest as he wraps his other arm around you. He giggles and rests his chin on the top of your head. You lay in silence for a long time, just basking in each other's presence. His chest rises and falls with his breath, soothing you near to sleep. One of his fingers traces lazy circles against your back as he holds you. “You’re so warm,” you mumble against him. As if he doesn’t hear you, he mutters almost to himself, “I don’t want to go.” You turn your face up a little, hoping to catch his eye, “I know. I don’t want you to leave either.” “Why’d you have to live so far away,” he groans dramatically. “Hey, I didn’t plan this,” you laugh, “I never thought I’d even see you again no matter where I lived.” “I would have found you someday, one way or another.” The way he says it is almost grim with determination, it makes your heart flutter, just how much he’s sure of it.

“Did you think about me a lot,” you ask before you’re aware the words are leaving your mouth. “All the time,” he sighs, “I had so many questions.” “Like what,” your voice whispers like a breeze through the trees. “What you did after I left. Where you were, how you were. What you might look like or sound like. If you remembered me…if you missed me. What you were going through. What I could have been there for. Who you’d become,” he rambles quietly. “Do you want answers? Now’s the perfect time to ask whatever you want,” you smile against his collarbone. “I’d do anything for answers,” his breath sweeps over your hair, whether it’s that or his tone that sends shivers through you, you aren’t sure. “Well, after you left I tried to make new friends. It didn’t work out so well. I eventually made friends, but they were fake and I was better off without them. I kept going to school, graduated early and went straight to college. I was a huge nerd,” you laugh wistfully, “I got into the school I wanted on a good scholarship and it led to an internship and eventual employment at a smaller museum before I got invited to have a spot at my current job.” “I had a couple relationships that didn’t work out, I regret one of them. I left Las Vegas when I was 19, I moved twice before ending up here. How I was has always been complicated. Sometimes good, sometimes the kind of struggling where I wanted nothing more than to give up, but I’m here. I remembered you,” you look up to find him watching you now, “I missed you so much and I thought of you all the time. I remembered you in the little things, stuff I’d see in store windows and hear in passing conversations. It felt like you haunted my life sometimes. You missed a lot, first dates, tests I stressed about, proms, graduations, my first car, embarrassing moments, happy moments, everything if we’re being honest. The important thing is that you’re here now. You get to see what I look like, hear what I sound like, and meet the person I’ve become. Hopefully you like them as much as you liked the me you knew before.” He smiles at you now, his sonderous expression cracking into something pleasant, “I might like you more now.” You smile back and let your heart swell without guilt this time, “I think I like you more too.”

The two of you stare in silence, for longer than you should, before you say, “what about you? What did I miss?” Spencer sighs, squeezing his eye shut before laughing almost painfully, “how much time do you have? So much has happened to me in such a short time, I wouldn’t know where to start.” “How was high school? Was it as shit as my high school years,” you chuckle. He barks a laugh, “probably! You remember how I used to get teased a lot? So much worse. The bullying got so bad. Even now I have to defend myself sometimes.” You smooth your hand over his side, “I’m so sorry, Spence. I get how you feel.” His eyes soften, “it’s okay. I’ve moved past it mostly.” You turn your face down, pressing your head against his chest again, “just say the word and I’ll take care of anyone that makes fun of you.” “Careful or my team might have to take you down,” he brushes a hand over your hair. “Like you’d stop me, you wouldn’t even be able to catch me,” you chuckle. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” “I’ll bet, get out of jail free card if I win the bet,” you quirk your eyebrows even though he can’t see them. “In order for you to win you’d have to never be caught, so we’d probably never see each other again,” he frowns even at the potential for this, very fake, scenario. “Ah. Guess I can’t do that then,” you sigh, “I’ll just get them all banned from the museum." “Oh god, no, a fate worse than death,” he throws his head back in mock dramatics. You giggle, curling into him more as his shoulders shake with laughter.

You and Spencer talk more, not noticing how the hours fly by until you’re interrupted. “-So we’re supposed to be interviewing this guy, but he goes w-” the rest of Spencer's sentence is cut off by his stomach growling loud enough to completely silence the both of you. “Wow. You got something to tell me,” you glance up at him. “Uh, I guess I’m hungry,” he smiles sheepishly. “Do you want to cook something or order in,” you smirk at him. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to cook together again before I leave,” he averts his eyes awkwardly. “I’d be honored,” you reassure him.

You settle on making a nice brunch for yourselves, traipsing to the kitchen still in your pajamas. You start to pull out ingredients and supplies as Spencer leans against the counter. He watches your every move, a sort of weary ease on his face. It’s like he’s at peace and war with himself at the same time, but you chalk it up to fears around leaving. He rests his hip and one hand against the counter, the other hand laying at his side and fidgeting with his pajama pants. “How do you feel about crepes,” he suddenly asks. You whip your head around to look at him, “if you let me make crepes right now, I might just have to marry you.” You both laugh, you to mask how much you didn’t intend to say that, and him to hide how much that thought hurts him even if it is a joke. “Guess we’re doing crepes then,” he sweeps his hair out of his face and moves to help you grab things.

Your kitchen isn’t small necessarily, but it’s not meant for two people to be moving around together continuously. As Spencer takes ingredients from you to set on the counter you try to avoid bumping him. You try to grab all the things you’ll need, bowls, spatulas, and the like, but can’t grab the frying pan so Spencer reaches for it. With your arms full, he slides past you, he rests one hand against your waist to help you to keep from bumping into him. Your heart sings at the touch, something so simple yet so significant. You place your items on the counter and turn to Spencer, who silently holds the frying pan up for you. “Do you want to whisk or should I,” you beam at him. “I’m whisking, obviously,” he moves past you to grab the whisk before you can. You laugh, crinkling your nose as you smile, “perfect, I hate whisking.” You hand him some eggs and move to measure the other ingredients you need. Your cooking is more like a dance. Spencer completing a step and you being right there to have the next thing ready. You swish about the kitchen, avoiding collision, laughing and chatting the whole way.

Spencer tries out his new flipping skills, having a harder time with the lighter material, sending the finished crepes to you to put on your plates and douse in toppings. You sit down in your living room, satisfied with the results of your dance. You stuff your face faster than you normally would, having spent so much time in bed that you’re famished. Luckily, Spencer does the same. You, somehow, end up with powdered sugar on your face. You don’t notice it, but Spencer does. He simply leans across the couch and extends his hand. Your eyes go wide as your face warms, wondering what’s happening. He swipes his thumb across your cheek, slowly pulling his hand back and licking the sugar off his thumb without breaking eye contact. “Powdered sugar,” he mumbles, finally looking away. “Thanks,” you mutter back, turning to hopefully hide some of the blush. You quickly stand, swiping Spencer's plate once you’re up, and speed them out to the kitchen. You chuck the plates in the sink, cursing yourself for watching him lick his thumb how you did. “I’ll do dishes later, I don’t want to waste any of the time you have left with getting my hands all sudsy,” you announce, maybe a little too loud, to give yourself time to calm down. When you turn, Spencer just gives you a curt nod alongside a small smile.

After a brief intermission to get changed into real clothes, you march yourself back to the living room and plop down on the couch, turning to smile at Spencer as a way to ask ‘what now’ without having to speak. “You know something I never really got to do growing up,” he grins anxiously. “What’s that,” your eyes are expectant. He looks away, pausing before letting his eyes find you again, “truth or dare.” You laugh raucously, “you want to play truth or dare with me, Spence?” He nods, smile growing wider at your enthusiasm. “You are so on, you start,” you try to stop laughing so he can go. He suddenly looks nervous, “uh…truth or dare?” “Truth, an easy start for you,” you chuckle. He thinks for a second, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling, “uh, I- have you ever done drugs?” You laugh at the innocence of his first question, “yes, I’ve tried weed a handful of times. I never got into the harder stuff that was popular in my school though, Adderall seemed like too much to me. Truth or dare, bud?” “Truth,” he twiddles his fingers slightly. “What about you,” you glance at his hands, before looking in his eyes again, “have you ever tried drugs?” He looks away, blushing, “I have.” “What? That’s all I get,” you giggle until you see the look on his face, inferring that something around the topic upset him. “We can circle back to this whenever you’re ready. Your turn.” “Truth or dare,” his face lightens a bit at your refusal to push. “Dare,” you say casually. “Spin around three times,” he shrugs, as if he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. You do as you’re told, sitting back down and pointing a finger at him, “truth or dare?” “Dare.” You smile, “balance a spoon on your nose for thirty seconds.” He gets up and saunters over to the kitchen, dramatically pulling a spoon from the drawer and resting it on his face. “Start counting,” he mutters as he watches the spoon. You watch as he bobs around, trying to keep the spoon in place until you finally announce, “done! That was really impressive!” “And totally not embarrassing,” he laughs, walking back over to the couch, “Truth or dare?” “Dare,” you just want to see what other ideas he has, the spinning was super tame. He rolls his eyes, “sit on the floor for the next three rounds.” You climb down onto your knees with a sigh, maintaining eye contact the whole way, “I think you just like telling me what to do with these dares.” He laughs, “totally not.” “Then I guess you just want me down here, huh?” When you realize what that can imply, you try to save it, “-ya know, so you can have more space on the couch.” His face is beet red and his laugh is slightly strained as you look up at him from the ground, “ye-eah totally.”

“Truth or dare,” you rush through the phrase this time. “Truth,” he finally changes the route you’ve both been on. You watch his face, “do you have anyone waiting back home? Maybe a pretty profiler you’ve been waiting to take out?” He chokes on nothing, “you mean like romantically? Like do I have any relationship prospects back home?” You giggle, “well I wanted to ask less clinically, but yeah.” “No,” he barks a laugh, “the only thing waiting for me at home is a reading list a mile long.” “Truth or dare,” he changes the subject. “Truth,” you follow his lead. “Do you have any romantic prospects?” Looking at him from the floor is hard so you let your eyes fall to a spot on the floor, “Nah. I feel like I’ve hit the bottom of the dating pool here, I don’t have much interest in the people I’ve met. I went on a couple dates a while ago that went nowhere. I don’t even hook up with people so I haven’t even had sex in a long time.” “Can I go out of turn,” Spencer asks. “Absolutely not,” you smile softly. He sighs, “fine then I pick dare.” “You know, Spence,” you look at him again, “dares are usually more risque in this game.” He blinks, “Yeah? Hit me with one then.” You laugh, “uh, loosen up a bit.” He blinks harder, “what?” “Like take your sweater vest off, undo a couple buttons or something,” you laugh, but the sound is hollow, nervous. He sighs, but complies, “is that risqué?” “Absolutely not,” you chortle, releasing tension more than anything. He nods, thinking. “Okay, truth or dare?” “Dare,” you chirp. He nods again, looking away as if to build resolve before turning back, “three turns is over.” You raise an eyebrow. “So you don’t have to sit on the floor anymore.” “Ah,” you nod, rising to your feet. “I- I dare you to sit on my lap.”

His eyes burn into you as you stare at him from next to the couch. Shaking your head enough to reboot your system, you ask, “alright. How do you want me?” His chest and ears are red, the blush creeping onto his face, “h-however you’re comfortable.” You climb onto his lap, testing positions. You sit sideways across his legs and decide that doesn’t work super well, you turn your back to him and lean against his chest, but then he’s just breathing down your neck, so you finally accept your fate. You turn to face him, straddling his thighs and resting your hands on his shoulders. He’s breathing harder than normal and he’s the reddest you’ve ever seen him. “Sorry,” you whisper, “this is most comfortable.” He clears his throat, “is this risqué enough?” “Definitely,” you laugh, “truth or dare?” “Dare,” his voice is thick with something you can’t parse together. You look down at his lips, hoping he doesn’t notice and if he does, that he’ll take the hint that you haven’t even deciphered that you’re sending, “do whatever you want.” “What,” his voice isn’t as nervous as he looks, quiet, but not afraid. “I dare you to do whatever you want,” your eyes drift to his. The tension in the room is suffocating, your heart beating out of your throat as his hands suddenly move after too much pause. His hands land on your waist and he slowly slides them across you until he’s holding you in his arms.

“Truth or dare,” he breathes out. “Truth,” your voice is quiet, awaiting an impact you don’t want to admit you crave. He pauses, “when was the last time you had sex?” Your eyes flick away for a moment, self-consciousness settling into your skin, “o-over a year. Like a couple weeks before I left my ex.” Spencer's jaw drops slightly, “a-a year?” “Over a year,” you correct, hoping for some humor to save you, “like, a year and three months or something.” Spencer stares at you, “that sucks.” You laugh sarcastically, “poor baby, huh? However, will I survive?” Spencer smiles, “it’s just too bad.” “Yeah, well, finding people that like what I like and aren’t annoying fuckboys is basically impossible. I also have no interest in one time deals, so here I am,” you throw your arms out, a little annoyed at the impossibility. “I’m sure you can find someone,” he smiles. You’re sure he didn’t mean it this way, but it does feel like ‘you’ll find someone, somewhere else. Certainly not with the guy who's currently holding you on his lap.’ You look away, avoiding his gaze, “yeah, I’m not really looking though. I kinda gave up a while ago, I’m good on my own.” You laugh awkwardly when you meet his eyes, a sort of panicked sound forcing its way from your lungs. His eyes are boring into you. Sad puppy eyes that drink in your every micro-expression. A feeling finally claws its way from deep in your gut, a feeling you suddenly need to confront, despite your best efforts to bury it. You want to kiss him. You want to kiss his stupid, pouty lips. You want to taste him and know him in a way you haven’t before. You let your eyes fall to his lips even though you know nothing will happen. You study them. The way they twitch before he smiles, the color, the plushness, everything you can learn without touching.

“Where’d you go,” he chuckles. You blink, “huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking.” “Abooouuttt??” You look at him as he raises his eyebrows in question. He smiles wider, teasing, “were you thinking about the last time you had sex?” You splutter a guffaw, “oh god, no! The last time I had sex was so bad I wish it was immemorable!” “Oh god, really? How bad,” he winces. Now you smirk, “you already asked my truth.” He groans dramatically, “come oooon.” You motion a zipper over your mouth as you shake your head at him. He rolls his eyes and huffs at you. “Truth or dare, oh curious one,” you giggle. “Truth.” “What’s the story of the last time you had sex,” you smile at him, an evil grin carved into your face. He exhales heavily, “oh god, I don’t even know.” His fingers fidget anxiously against your waist, “it wasn’t very romantic. Rushed, someone I didn’t follow up with afterwards, I had to sneak back to the hotel before my whole team noticed in the morning. She was a good kisser, but we wouldn’t have meshed in a real relationship and I just wanted to get something out of my system.” You stare at him in a mild state of shock. “What,” he notices. “You had a one night stand? Spencer Reid has one night stands,” you deadpan. He flushes, “is that so shocking? I’m an adult. Also don’t say ‘has’ like it happens all the time. I was having a moment,” he puffs something close to a nervous laugh. You break, shoulders bouncing with laughter, “I’m kidding! It’s only a little shocking. I didn’t think you the type.” He blushes more, backing away in offense, “I’m not the type! I just needed to get out of my head,” he seems more worried about offending you than anything. “Oh, by getting under someone? I see how you work,” you laugh, only relenting when you feel you’ve embarrassed him enough, “I know you aren’t a womanizer, I’m just teasing.” He sighs, a slight pout to his face. Mock disgruntled, he continues, “truth or dare? Jerk.” “Dare,” you grin again. His eyes flick to you, “I dare you to tell me about that bad sex with your ex.” You slap his chest, “you can’t dare me into a truth!” Whining now he flops his head against your shoulder, “I wanna know so I can properly make fun of this asshole.” “Since when are you so nosey,” you look down at his ruffled curls. His breath is warm against your chest, "I've always been like this, you just haven’t had anything interesting to tell me.” At that you push him back, fake outrage awaiting him when he can see you again, “what about the drama of drums from the high middle ages isn’t interesting?”

He laughs so hard he snorts slightly and it's so cute you decide to let him win. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.” His eyes light up as he settles in for the harrowing tale of your ex and his lack of prowess. “Okay,” you sigh, “it was before I knew about the cheating, but things had been bad for a while. We, if we’re being honest, never really matched sexually. He wanted what he wanted and I wanted things he, apparently, couldn’t provide. The last time we had sex it was right after an argument, and you’d think ‘hate sex, hot’ right?” He nods, engrossed in your story. “Well you’d be wrong. He bent me over the couch, which was about as adventurous as it got, and we were done in about six minutes. I didn’t even get most of my clothes off and when he was done he just went to play a video game in the bedroom,” you throw your hands up and frown in a ‘what can ya do’ motion. Spencer stares at you for a long moment, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you-” You cut him off before he finishes his question, “nope. I think I did like ten times in our whole relationship, max.” “Did you talk to him about it?” “Multiple times. We tried to work on his technique a few times, but he got impatient or bored and decided it was my fault.” Spencer looks shocked and enraged, “you know how I told you not to kill your coworker? I’m about to ignore my own advice and kill your ex.” You laugh, “he’s not worth it. Just find me someone that knows what they’re doing and we’ll consider me avenged.” He nods solemnly, “can do.” “Do you have any ex’s I need to kill,” you put the spotlight back on him, ready to have the focus off you. Something sparks in his eyes that you don’t understand, but it seems sad. He shakes his head, giving you a smile and moving on immediately. “Wait. Have you gotten a new couch since you broke up?” “No,” you look away anxiously. Spencer looks disgusted, “oh no. Is this the couch?” You simply nod, a giggle bubbling up inside you at his fake horror. He feigns outrage at the new information and you can’t help but laugh. “Spencer, you’ve been sleeping in my bed. I’ve had sex in that bed,” you snort. “No, I can’t believe this, the horror, oh the horror,” he throws the back of his hand against his forehead, as if to swoon. You swat at him again and he drops the act. “I’m ready to be asked a horribly embarrassing question or be made to do something horribly embarrassing.” You make a circle with your index finger in the air, “get up and spin around in a circle until I tell you to stop.”

A down right evil grin creeps across his face. Before you have time to protest His hands skirt under your thighs and he’s hoisting you as he rises to his feet. He lifts you with him, pulling a squeak from you, laughing mischievously as he moves. “Spencer,” you shriek as he starts to spin. You wrap your arms around him tighter, pressing your face into his chest as he laughs. You hadn’t realized he was this strong and you kick yourself a little for being surprised. Knowing his job it makes sense, but it’s still a little shocking. After long enough you finally pipe up, “okay, stop!” With a final, rather triumphant laugh, he flops you down onto the couch below him as he hovers over you. With the tension of being on his lap finally broken you let loose a laugh that pushes the final bits of apprehension from your chest, hoping he can’t sense the relief and loss in it. You roll to the side and pull yourself back up to a seated position so he can join you on the couch again. He flops down on the couch and the game continues, largely without incident, as you both seem to decide it’s time for lower stakes questions and dares.

At some point you order yourselves food, eating greasy Chinese food in a rush so you can get back to talking as the time winds down to his flight. You find yourself desperate to keep him talking, which normally wouldn’t be an issue, but he seems desperate to hear you speak. You battle between making him happy and wanting to fulfill your own selfish needs of listening to his soft voice. Eventually you look at the clock and are not met with a friendly sight. Spencer follows your eyes and sighs before you even have the chance to let yourself acknowledge what happens next. “I guess it’s time,” he whispers. You nod, wanting to find some reason he should stay, but coming up with only the reasons he can’t. The two of you slowly trudge to the door, grabbing his things on the way. You slip on your shoes and coats as slowly as you can, both trying to stall what’s to come. When you make it to the car you don’t play music, you just sit in the silence together. You drive the whole way to the airport without saying a word as if speaking will make it go by faster.

Pulling up to the airport, you find parking and unload his things. You walk together, hand in hand yet again, to get him checked in. You walk with him until you can’t anymore, stopping just outside the line to security. He finally turns to you, eyes heavy with emotion, “so…” The end of the sentence doesn’t come, he just watches you. “Don’t forget about me,” you realize how serious that sounds and try to cut the tension by adding, “don’t forget I exist or anything.” He smiles, soft and sad, “I could never.” He pauses again, letting himself rake his eyes over you like he’ll never see you again. “Thank you for letting me stay with you. I had an amazing time and I can’t wait to visit again,” he keeps his voice soft like this farewell isn’t meant for your public setting. “Thank you for staying with me. You don’t know how much I needed you in my life again, but I’m better for having you here,” you smile, trying not to crack. “I’ll visit whenever I can and you can always come see me. I’ll let you know where I am so we can plan something whenever we’re both around.” You rub your thumb over his skin, hand still in his, reassuring him and yourself with one motion. You look up at him, letting the tears prick your eyes finally. “Don’t let this be goodbye forever.” He frowns before pulling it back into a smile, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” With that he pulls you into a hug. His arms are tight around you like he hopes to mold you together, he’s warm and comforting, but the feeling leaves something cold and alone in you. You worry he won’t come back or you’ll be forgotten once he gets on that plane, but the hug is a reminder of how much he wants you back too. You stand there for far too long, watching the line dwindle to nothing over his shoulder, just embracing and soaking in as much as you can. When you glance at the clock and get anxious for Spencer's ability to make it to his gate, you know it’s time to let go. You slowly release each other, reluctant. When you see his face again his eyes are red and you can see tear tracks on his cheeks. This goodbye shouldn’t be so emotional, but you both have something bigger looming over this moment. “I should go,” he whispers, “thank you for letting me back into your life.” “Thank you for coming back.” Without another word he slips away, walking slowly towards the last members of the security line to join them. When he reaches them, turning to find you still standing there, he waves delicately. “See you later,” he says with a confidence that doesn’t match his body language. You return his farewell and he waits in the line, watching you. Once he’s done showing his identification to the agent, he disappears into security.

Masterlist Previous Part Chapter 1

Spencer woke with a start. He deeply inhaled, as his body adjusted to suddenly being awake again, and brushed his hair out of his face. While he waited for his eyes to come back into focus, he noticed something. A feeling that had become familiar. You were pressed against his side, his arm under your head, his leg wrapped around yours, as you breathed softly in your sleep. He never really meant to do it, but it kept happening, like his body knew what he wanted even if his brain was denying it. He fought it the first night, waking when you hadn’t yet and prying himself from your warmth to go scold himself in your living room before returning to bed, but since then he’d just tried to accept that it would happen. The only other thing he’d had issues with (and scolded himself for) was the previous morning. He’d woken up in a state that mortified him. He rushed to the bathroom before he could wake you and dealt with his embarrassment. He’d worried about possibly waking you, you knowing, you thinking he’s disgusting or a creep, not wanting to be friends anymore, but you didn’t notice a thing. This morning he let himself bask in the feeling of you in his arms. You were laying on your back, one arm draped above your head with the other at your side, your face looked soft and warm. Your hair was swept over your pillow, small strands splayed across your face, your chest rising and falling as soft breaths leave your perfectly pouty lips. You murmur something quiet enough that Spencer doesn’t catch it. He gently brushes your hair out of your face and you mutter something as you scrunch your face slightly. Spencer checks his phone, seeing that you still have over an hour before you need to wake up for work, he decides to try and rest some more.

He closes his eyes as he rolls to lay on his back. As he settles, you roll over in your sleep. You roll to face him, throwing your arm and leg over him, sighing as you nuzzle against his chest. Spencer's whole body tenses as he’s engulfed in a deep blush. ‘Oh no, oh no, oh no,’ he thinks, panicking at the new contact. His mind races, trying to avoid facing how your presence makes him feel, focusing on how you’d feel if you woke up right now. ‘Oh god, she’d hate this, she’d be so embarrassed and uncomfortable and grossed out and-’ His internal monologue is interrupted by you muttering, “soft,” so quietly he almost misses it. It’s almost as if your voice sets his mind straight, he suddenly remembers how many times you’ve initiated contact since being reunited. He remembers how he had to reassure you that he didn’t mind physical contact with you and gives himself the same check in. ‘She clearly doesn’t mind or she wouldn’t be holding my hand and dancing with me. If she woke up now she’d probably be embarrassed for a second, but not disgusted. I’m freaking myself out,” he sighs. With that, he lets himself relax under your hold. He doesn’t really drift off to sleep again, just drifting in the darkness behind his eyes as he thinks, letting himself listen to the noises you make in your sleep and your muted breathing.

Your alarm goes off, a lilting melody coming from your phone that pulls you out of your deep sleep. Spencer continues to hold his eyes shut as you sit up to turn off your alarm. “Jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your hands over your face at the position you woke up in, “personal space dude.” Spencer flinches slightly, he knows you’re probably saying it to yourself, but he can’t help but worry that you’re talking to him. He stirs slightly, hoping to come off as if he’s waking up naturally. “Good morning, Spence,” you smile over your shoulder at him, “I gotta get a bigger bed before you visit again. We seem to not have enough room in this one since I woke up practically on your lap,” you laugh. He chuckles, hoping to hide his disappointment. You hop out of bed, adjusting your pajamas and pulling your hair back over your shoulders, and walk to your bathroom to start getting ready for the day.

Spencer sits up in bed, raking his fingers through his hair and pushing it off his face, he sighs and resolves to leave the warmth of the blankets. He swings his legs over the bed and makes his way to the living room. Plopping down on the couch, he watches you buzz around as you get ready. You emerge from your room, toothbrush still in your mouth, as you set some papers down on your counter before returning to your room. You pop your head back out, your hair pulled back with your hands as you search for a hair tie, “sorry, I’ll make us breakfast once I’m all dressed and stuff.” “You’re alright, don’t worry about it,” he smiles at you softly. While he waits he scrolls on his phone, checking his messages from his team, occasionally looking up to watch you speed around your house to get ready.

After about fifteen minutes you emerge from your room again and Spencer almost chokes on air. Your hair is pulled back, your makeup is done very naturally to highlight your features, but not distract. Your legs are covered with black stockings, a pencil skirt lands just above your knees, and you’re wearing a plain white button up shirt. The top few buttons are undone and the sleeves are rolled to your elbows, the very edge of the lace on your bra peeks from the open front of the shirt, taking Spencer's breath away. “Okay, so what do you want for breakfast,” you smile at him. “I- uh w-what, uh anything's fine,” he stammers, avoiding eye contact. “Okaaayy,” you laugh, “how’s eggs sound?” “P-perfect,” he rubs his hands down his legs, hoping you don’t notice how clammy he suddenly is. He watches as you breeze around the kitchen, eventually rising to walk over to the breakfast bar for a better view, you’re so at ease around him that he almost feels like this must be a dream. Your face is held in a pleasant expression, the edges of your mouth only slightly curling to show your contentedness, as you bop to a song in your head while you scramble the eggs. You glance at him, “what are your plans for the day?” Spencer feels like he’s been caught, eyes falling to his hands on the counter, “uh, I’m just meeting some friends for lunch and then I’ll probably come back here to catch up on paperwork.” You quirk your eyebrow at him, teasing, “working on your vacation?” “Well, it’s hardly working, I just have to send in some forms,” he reasons. “Well, don’t work too hard,” you laugh. He chuckles, a bashful grin on his face, "I won't.”

When the eggs are done, you eat quickly and gather your bag, stopping at the door to slip on your shoes. “I’ll be back around 5:30, feel free to eat anything, read anything, watch anything, basically do whatever,” you smile, “text me if you have any questions!” “Will do, thank you again for letting me chill here today,” he stands near you at the door, hands clasped awkwardly, feeling like a kid being left at home alone for the first time. “Of course, I’m not going to kick you out while I’m gone,” you laugh, standing back up once your shoes are on. You reach out to hug him goodbye, without much thought he accepts. He wraps his arms around you, the scent of your shampoo mixing with your perfume hits his nose and he feels at home. You release him and he deflates slightly. “See you later,” you chirp as you grab your bag and open the door.

When the door closes Spencer is stuck standing in complete silence. He feels more alone than he expected, waiting in his friend's home, unsure of what he should be doing. First, he goes to clean up from breakfast. He scrapes the small bits of food left on your plates into the trash, washes the dishes, dries them, and puts them away having watched where you got everything from earlier so he’d know where everything goes. Once he’s cleaned up he goes to dress himself, throwing on a smart outfit that he feels comfortable in. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and realizes he’s run out of things to do. “Only 7 more hours,” he mutters to himself, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. Spencer resolves to read until it’s time for lunch with his friends. He pulls a handful of books from his suitcase and claims a seat on your couch.

The time flies by as he reads, and suddenly it's time for him to meet his friends.

Spencer sits in a booth at a local restaurant, picking at the food on his plate, when his thoughts are interrupted by his friend's voice. “You look like a wounded dog, you doing alright,” your mutual friend asks. Spencer glances at him, “yeah, just thinking.” “Is this about your new friend,” he keeps his voice quiet and welcoming, Spencer knows it’s in hopes he’ll open up. “She’s not a new friend, we’ve just reunited,” he corrects. “Oh yeah, you’re right, my bad,” he chuckles, “so is this about your old friend then?” Spencer chuckles, relenting, “yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.” “Everything okay with you and your slumber party buddy,” he presses his eyebrows together in genuine concern. “Yeah, I- wait what,” Spencer pauses and chuckles slightly, “slumber party buddy?” The friend laughs, “well, yeah, aren’t you crashing at her place?” “Yeah, I guess we’re slumber party buddies,” Spencer laughs, “but, everything’s good. We’re getting back to how we were before we lost contact.” “So what’s up?” Spencer tucks a piece of hair behind his ear nervously, “I guess my feelings have changed. I still see her as a friend first, but now that we’re adults, and I’m getting to know who she’s become in my absence, I’m struggling with my image of her. I keep having these moments where I want to kiss her or tell her that I feel differently than I did when we were kids, but I know I shouldn’t and I’m just struggling with it. Everything's so new since we just reconnected that I don’t really know what to do with myself.” “Have you thought of just being honest,” the friend tries to make the question not sound condescending. “I will. A-at some point, but I don’t want to ruin things right now.” “So you’re just going to suffer in silence until then,” he’s half joking. “Pretty much,” Spencer sighs. “Really? She’s an adult, she can handle a serious conversation about feelings.” “Oh I know, that’s not my worry, I just don’t want her to think I have some hidden agenda,” he stirs his coffee with a spoon, “I don’t want her to think that things have been going how they have been just because I want to ‘get in her pants’ or something.” “Well, do you want to get in her pants,” he says like it’s the most normal question in the world. Spencer almost spit-takes his coffee, “no! I-I mean I- I wouldn’t hate it, but that’s not it,” he whisper shouts. The friend laughs, “dude, just explain that. We’ve talked about her dating life before and she’d honestly probably appreciate the attention. Everything she’s told me has been ‘men suck,’ ‘women don’t like me,’ ‘no one likes me,’ I haven’t gotten laid in so long,’ ‘I had this great date and then they ghosted me.’ Just put yourself out there!” Spencer feels a little scummy learning this stuff about you without your knowledge, “I don’t need to know all that, but how is she not taken? I mean, she’s smart, funny, and beautiful.” “That’s what I tell her, but I guess people don’t appreciate quality dates anymore,” he chuckles, “most people are too focused on hooking up, especially at our age.” Spencer nods, even though he couldn’t imagine it happening to you as much, he’d experienced similar things.

The truth was, he’d been enamored from when he first saw you. You looked familiar, but freckles and scars and makeup and age that hadn’t been there the last time he saw you made it hard to place your face, no matter how beautiful it was. He’d seen you across the room when he spotted your mutual friend and was hoping you’d be introduced, but hadn’t expected the reason you looked so familiar. When your friend went to join his group and mentioned your name, Spencer's heart stopped. A rush of emotions hit him as he grappled with the sudden opportunity to recover what he’d lost. Then he was hit with the, ‘oh no, she’s hot,’ dread that flooded his veins. His heart fluttered from the burst of need to know you and understand you like he did when you were kids, as well as the sudden enchantment he was under, and it almost hadn’t stopped fluttering since.

After changing the subject, the rest of the lunch goes by smoothly and quickly. Before he knows it, Spencer is back on your doorstep, unlocking the entry to your apartment. He steps inside and slips his shoes off, sighing as if he’s home after a long day at work. Your smell envelops him, the apartment is so undeniably you that it almost torments him with its image. He truly does plan to tell you about his feelings, when the time's right, but the time isn’t right now.

Spencer decides to surprise you by cleaning while you’re out. Your apartment wasn’t messy by any means, more the usual kind of cluttered you get when a busy 20-something lives alone and doesn’t have time to worry about how dusty her bookshelves gotten. Spencer started with making your bed, dusting your nightstands, picking up the loose hair ties that’d been flung under the bed, listening to some of your records as he cleaned. He wanted to know you, your interests, your likes, your dislikes, so he started with listening to what you had in your record collection. Next he moved to the bathroom, putting away towels that had been folded, but just stacked on your bathroom caddy instead of actually put away. He moved through your house, organizing, dusting, humming along with songs he knew, ignoring the hours that passed until his phone dinged from your kitchen counter. He picks it up, slightly swaying to a tune carrying from your living room. His screen lights up with a text from you, ‘how’s it going at home base? Keeping yourself entertained? - your friend, elbow deep in plaque writing nonsense’ He smiles to himself before typing a reply, ‘I found something to busy my time with. How’s work? - Your friend, fighting off a post-lunch nap’ ‘Work’s been good, I’m going to kill one of our delivery guys though. Hope you can pay bail - Your soon to be favorite criminal’ ‘Please don’t murder anyone, I already don’t have much time to visit you here, imagine trying to visit you in prison - your incredibly concerned friend’ ‘I mostly promise that I won’t ;) - friend who is looking at 25 to life’ Spencer laughs to himself, setting the phone back down and returning to the task at hand. Finished with most of the rooms, he decides to explore your bookcase. He takes books off the shelves, leafing through them to get the gist of your interests, and putting them back. He picks up on which ones you’re most interested in based on dust paths on the shelves. Some have clear clean sections where they’ve been recently pulled from their home, others have a nice collection of dust particles showing they haven’t left in a while. He ignores ones he’s already read, delighting in the things you have in common, and skims pages of ones he’s never ventured into. He notices one book, on a higher shelf than most of the books on this bookcase, has a thick sheet of dust in front of it. Spencer dusts the shelf before sliding the book from its resting spot. The cover is smooth in his hands as he turns it over to read. It’s some kind of healthy dating manual. “Your Partner and You: Conversations No One Wants to Start,” he mumbles to himself, “why would she need a book about talking to your partner?” He opens to the first page and finds a note written over the first chapter header, ‘I know you don’t want to hear it, but you might get something useful from this - love mom’ “Yeesh,” Spencer sighs. He flips through the pages, chapters about confrontation and communicating about boundaries flying by, until he reaches a bookmark. The slick sheet slides from the pages and lands below him on the carpet. When Spencer glances down at the floor he sees that it wasn’t actually a bookmark. A small collection of polaroid's lay face down on the floor.

He leans down to pick them up, wondering what you might have taken pictures of. He turns over the photos and his blood runs cold. In his hands are six glossy photos of you. His brain malfunctions as he tries to process what he’s seeing. Something finally clicks in his brain and he mutters, “boudoir photoshoot.” As soon as the words leave his mouth he’s shoving the photos back into the book and stuffing it back on the shelf. He marches over to the couch and sits down harder than intended, effectively putting himself in timeout as he processes. His face is burning as the images swirl in his brain, ‘a bad time to have an eidetic memory,’ he thinks. You, posed in beautiful lingerie on a romantic set, come to life in his mind. What he’d do to have you like that in front of him. He shakes his head to dispose of the thoughts, “stop it. She’d hate you thinking of her like that,” he groans, dragging one hand down his face.

He starts to panic as he realizes that he has to tell you what happened, if he doesn't then the guilt will eat him up. The next few hours drag on as he plans how to talk to you, how to be honest, and how to inevitably nurse his wounds when you're inevitably upset.

He jumps when he hears your keys in the lock. It’s very muffled, but he can hear you humming to yourself as you unlock the door. As you swing the door open, you giggle, “honeeyyy, I’m hooommeee!” Spencer can’t help the rush of joy that surges through him. He rises to greet you, a warm smile on his face. “Hey, how was work,” he adjusts the sleeve of his shirt nervously. “It was pretty standard today, I gotta tell you about all th- oh my god. Did you clean?” “Oh- uh, yeah,” he flushes a little, “I didn’t have much to do today and I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Spencer delights in how you beam at him, setting down the files on your counter, throwing your arms up to wrap him in a hug. He prickles slightly, feeling guilty over the photos, but accepts the hug readily. “Thank you so much, Spence,” you press your face into the soft fabric covering his chest, “you really didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” “It’s no problem, you’re letting me stay here and feeding me and everything, so I really owe you one,” he rubs his hand over your back softly. You back up to look at him, “you don’t owe me anything, I just want to spend time with you.” Spencer's face flushes, he wants to look away, but he can’t help but look at your big, beautiful eyes staring up at him.

He feels that tug of guilt grow unbearable as he finally breaks eye contact, “I actually have to tell you about something.” You frown, backing away as he breaks the hug and walks to sit on the couch, before going to join him. “I-if you want me to leave after I tell you this, then I’ll understand completely,” he looks at you earnestly. You nod, he sees how you visibly get more tense the longer he sits in silence. “You can tell me anything, Spence, I won’t judge or whatever,” the sincerity in your eyes almost causes him physical pain. “E-earlier, when I was cleaning, I picked up a, uh, book from the bookcase. ‘Your Partner and You: Conversations No One Wants to Start,’ and I-” He watches as your face goes pale, before flushing a deep crimson he’s never seen on you before. “Oh my god,” your eyes drop to his chest as you appear to zone out. “-I, I’m so sorry, I know this is completely unforgivable and I understand if-,” he continues, frantically trying to think of how to fix your broken trust. “What,” you interrupt bluntly. “W-what,” Spencer's eyebrows are knit together in confusion and concern. “I mean, why is that unforgivable,” you cock your head in question, face still burning bright. “W-well I- I didn’t ask or anything,” he wrings his hands nervously. “Yeah, but you didn’t know they were there. I forgot I even had that book or those pictures, it’s not like you did that on purpose,” you gesture loosely in the air. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he looks at his hands in contemplation. “Let’s just forget it happened,” you smile, face still not quite a normal color yet. “That’s the thing, I can’t,” his head immediately shoots up as his hands rise in defense, “not that I- I mean, I want to forget it, but eidetic memory!” You laugh now, eyes creasing as the sound leaves your body, “I know, I didn’t think you meant anything else, dude.” Spencer sighs, “sorry, I would just really hate to make you uncomfortable.” “Thank you, Spence, it’s alright though,” you pat his knee, sending a jolt through his body. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” he looks away, mentally reassuring himself that you’d be honest if you felt uncomfortable, “why do you have a book like that?”

You look away, tugging on his heartstrings as he senses he’s hit a nerve, “I had a boyfriend a while ago and we had some issues.” Spencer nods solemnly, wanting to reach out and comfort you. “He wasn’t great at communicating, or respecting boundaries, or anything really,” your laugh comes out almost bitter, “my mom gave me that book after I vented one night. I suggested we read it together and he said the idea was stupid. I did a boudoir shoot as a Christmas surprise one year, but we broke up before I could give it to him. I just hid them in there since I knew he’d never look at it.” Spencer notices a misty look in your eye and finally reaches his hand out, engulfing yours in the warmth he hopes will comfort you, rubbing his thumb over your skin and admiring how soft you always feel. You look at him again, a clear look of sadness painted on your features. “Do you want to talk about it, or forget about it,” he raises his brows, keeping his voice soft and comforting, the honeyed tone visibly relaxing you. He can’t help but love how much you seem to be comforted by him. “You can’t forget, so we might as well talk about it. We were together for a while, about three years, and I found out he was cheating and left him. I’ve been happier since we broke up, though, and now I don’t worry as much about relationships. I figure if it happens, then it happens and if not, then oh well,” you roll your eyes for emphasis.

“What the- what is wrong with him,” Spencer's voice comes strained as he tries to tamp down his frustration at your ex. “Eh, I don’t know,” you laugh, reminiscing. “No, seriously, what is wrong with this guy? Y-you’re amazing. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re thoughtful, what was he thinking,” Spencer throws his hands up, exasperated. “Yeah, but sometimes that stuff doesn't matter,” you smile, “people make choices that are selfish and they don’t have the forethought to recognize what they might be losing.” Spencer frowns, he knows you’re right, but the thought that someone could treat you so horribly just poked at him. “If you ever decide it’s needed, I know some people that can make him disappear,” he makes a face of mock seriousness, cracking when you laugh and pat his arm. “Thanks, Spence,” you laugh, “I don’t much care what he’s up to now though.” Spencer places his hand on your knee, stroking his thumb over you to reassure you, "thank you for telling me about this, and again, I’m sorry about not asking about the books before moving them.” You chuckle again, placing your hand on his, “seriously, don’t worry about it. Look at it this way, now we’re even! I’ve seen you in your underwear and you’ve seen me in mine!” Spencer resisted the urge to explain that it was different, him having been in regular underwear while you were posed in lingerie, and just laughed.

“You’re probably tired from work, what would you like to do,” he smiles, tilting his head like a playful puppy. “Honestly, I just want to enjoy my last night with my friend,” you smile, “want to watch a movie?” Spencer nods enthusiastically, “absolutely!”

Spencer waited on the couch, scrolling through some streaming service to find something to watch, getting distracted by you flitting around the kitchen. You were busy making popcorn, getting drinks, and humming quietly, before you suddenly freeze and point at the TV. “Ooh, that one,” you say excitedly. Spencer glances back at the TV. A cover image for a horror movie lights up the screen, something Spencer hasn’t heard of before. “That one just came out, I’ve been meaning to watch it, but I don’t really care to watch horror movies when I’m alone,” you look at him, a hopeful glint in your eye. “Sounds good to me,” he beams at you, clicking on the movie so it’ll be queued to start when you return. You finally finish readying snacks and happily trot back into the living room. Spencer smiles uncontrollably at your giddiness, ‘she’s so unbelievably cute, oh my god.’ “Alright, I’m going to throw on some pajamas real quick, help yourself to some snacks,” you grin, giggling as you run off to your bedroom. Spencer fights the urge to scream into a pillow and kick his feet over his stupid crush, instead focusing on keeping his face from flushing everytime you do something cute.

When you re-emerge from your room, you’re dressed in a matching set of a tank top and shorts, decorated in little stars, on your way to the couch you flick off lights to add to the ambience. Spencer immediately turns pink, smiling at you and praying you don’t notice. ‘Okay, so I’m bad at not blushing, I guess,’ he thinks to himself as you flop down on the couch next to him. Spencer starts the movie as you move the bowl of popcorn onto your lap. You both settle in as the movie begins, it opens on an old house in the middle of a neighborhood, tense string music fills the room as we’re introduced to the creepy atmosphere of the movie. Spencer finds his eyes drifting from the screen, landing on your bowl of popcorn and your hand fishing for kernels of buttered corn, meandering up your arm until he lands on your face. The light from the TV illuminates you, your eyes nearly sparkling as you stare ahead. He finds himself wanting to touch you, a tingle is his fingers that tells him to reach out, just to feel you against him. You suddenly glance at him and he jolts away, a deep flush spreading across his face that’s barely visible in the harsh light of the TV. “Whatcha thinkin’,” you chuckle, tilting your head to look at him as Spencer turns away slightly. “Uh, just I- popcorn,” he grins awkwardly, glancing between your eyes and the bowl of popcorn in your hands. You thrust it at him, smiling back, “here, have some!” He reaches his hand into the bowl as you return your gaze back to the television.

As the movie continues, Spencer picks up on you slowly scooting closer and closer to him. He didn’t mind, of course, but you also didn’t seem to notice you were doing it. When a particularly frightening jumpscare gets you, you launch yourself towards Spencer. You wrap your arms around his waist and scoot towards him with a yelp. He automatically puts one arm around you, looking down only to be met with your, very embarrassed, face. “I-I’m sorry,” you laugh. He feels you moving to back away and just rubs his hand over your arm, “it’s alright.” “Is this why you don’t like watching horror on your own,” he chuckles. You smile, “I just get paranoid afterwards…also yeah, the jumping.” He brushes his thumb over your arm, “do you want to turn it off?” “N-no! No, it’s okay,” you wave your hands frantically to call him off, “as long as you don’t mind me occasionally clinging to you.” Spencer tries to not make a fool of himself by jumping at the opportunity, instead slowly raising his arm to beckon you under, “I don’t mind at all.” You sidle up to him, making a home against his ribs, as he wraps his arm back around you. ‘Way to keep her unsuspecting,’ he thinks to himself, ‘now she can probably hear how loud my heart is beating.’ Spencer was surprised to find that, instead of you hearing his heart, when his hand landed on your wrist he could feel how fast yours was beating. He told himself it was because of the movie, but he caught himself hoping it was because he was touching you. That thought sent him spiraling down the path of how else he could be touching you. A path that was very suddenly interrupted when another jumpscare led to you grabbing his thigh and gasping. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit,’ rang out in his head as he tensed. He felt like he was harboring a dirty secret when you touched him in the middle of him thinking of things he shouldn’t. Especially after what happened yesterday. You laughed nervously next to him before returning your hand to your lap. Above you, he was trying to avoid watching your every move, focusing on the terror filling your screen instead.

The movie started to settle down, less scares and more character building, and he found himself getting lost in thought. He tried reeling back into the movie, but it wasn’t up to him at that point. His mind became filled with visions. The two of you settled into a cottage in the woods, maybe a cute little Queen Anne for you to decorate, with nothing to worry about. Him dancing around, cooking in your kitchen, while you sat in the nearby sun room planning your next exhibition. Maybe you’d have pets, or kids, or just be on your own together. He’d include you in his horror loving escapades just to have you as close as possible, totally not selfishly, and you could go on rants about your favorite musical artists and why ‘no one understands what this song is supposed to represent.’ As he daydreamed of your life together, an all too familiar ghost started seeping in. Flashes of him coming home to an empty house, mysterious calls, puzzles left unsolved, blood soaked loneliness and failure coming to take over his life again.

“Are you getting scared,” you giggle from below, doe eyes breaching his spiral. “I- uh, what,” he blinks back to consciousness. “Your heart started beating really fast and you were breathing really hard, so I figured the movie scared you,” you tilt your head slightly. “Oh, yeah I guess the tension is starting to get to me,” he laughs, pushing back the demons. “Well, we can’t both be scared,” you laugh. He laughs anxiously, adjusting to hold you more, “guess I’ll have to get over it then.” You laugh together, he hopes you can’t see the mask he puts on his fears. He knows he’ll have to talk to you sometime, but the night before he leaves was not that time.

The rest of the night passes largely without incident. He’s fixated on everything happening around you, trying to drag himself from the shadows. He doesn’t panic again, but there is that lingering fear lurking just out of view. Once the movie ends Spencer points out how tired you seem, suggesting it might be time for bed. “But I don’t want the day to end yet,” you whine. Spencer chuckles, “I don’t either, but if you stay up later now then you’ll wake up later tomorrow and we’ll have less time to spend together.” You groan, dramatically throwing your head back, “you’re riiiight.” With that the two of you giggle and retire to your room for the night. You slide under the covers across from him, his eyes lingering on the expanse of your bare leg more than he wants it to. He climbs under the blankets, shifting across the sheet to be closer to you so he doesn’t fall off the side. When he’s finally situated he looks down to find you smiling up at him. “What do you want to do tomorrow,” your eyes shine, making him fight a smile. “Don’t you have to work,” he tries to hide how upset he is that he’s leaving. You grin wider, mischievous, “I called out. Told them a friend needed me and I’d be back the day after.” Now it’s Spencer's turn to smile like he just got away with something, “really? For me? That’s amazing.” “Of course, I’m not letting you escape without a proper goodbye!” Spencer reaches over to hug you, pulling you against his chest, “I’m so happy we’re back together, even if I have to go home tomorrow.” “Me too,” your voice is muffled against his shirt, hiding the hurt tone in it. Spencer moves away, lingering with his hand on your shoulder, “we should sleep so we can do whatever we want tomorrow.” You nod in agreement, a hint of sadness shining in your eyes, before turning to your back and closing your eyes. “Goodnight Spencer,” you almost whisper in the dark. “Sleep well,” he mutters, your name leaving his lips like he’s losing something.

Spencer pretends to sleep, letting you drift off before he does for the first time since you started this strange arrangement. He drowns in his thoughts, haunted by specters that seem to only feed off draining his happiness. He tries to not let the shadows get him, running from memories that threaten to take him into the abyss, but they don’t let up. He thinks of what being together could mean for you. The danger you’d be in. His job wasn’t always a danger to those around him, but with his luck, it would be. He couldn't fathom the thought of you being in harm's way because he had taken the wrong case or been the victim of another crazed admirer. After Maeve, he found it hard to accept that he wasn’t the danger that found its way into his loved ones' lives. It was just an unfortunate result of circumstances beyond his control, but he couldn't help feeling like it was his fault and if he let you in then you’d fall victim to the same bad luck. Someday he’d get that call and you’d be on the business end of his troubles with nothing he could do about it. That’s what made him keep you at arms length. He’d do anything to take you home with him, let you into his life, let you into his heart, but then you’d have a target on your back. Whether it be some strange force from the universe or a deeply disturbed individual seeking him out again, something would happen and it would be his fault. It was easier to hurt himself and keep you away than to let you in and risk not just hurting you, but killing you. He told himself it was easier. He also told himself that it wouldn’t matter, you clearly had no feelings for him. The whole thing would be a pointless risk of your friendship at best, and a risk of your life at worst. It was better to keep it how things were now. As he drowned, his eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill over and make his feelings even more real. Just as he shut his eyes and let them fall down his cheeks, you moved beside him.

You turn yourself to face him and reach out. When you find the soft material of his shirt, you grab it and scoot closer until you can wrap your arm around him. This is when something dawned on Spencer. He kept waking up to you in his arms, not necessarily because he was seeking you out in his sleep, but because you were holding him. You must be naturally shifting in your sleep and his unconscious body follows your movements to continue cuddling. A bright flush takes over his face as more tears fall. He laughs to himself, self pitying and scolding all at once, as he thinks of how utterly screwed he is. He’ll never be able to have you outside of these fleeting moments lost in the darkness, moments you don’t choose, except subconsciously, moments you don’t even mean to symbolize what they do for him. Just a taste of what he could have had if the world were less cruel and less willing to take everything from him.