Punch Drunk
"I thought I saw you sneak in here," Gideon said, the curiosity in the pleasant tone turning to concern when Spencer never lifted his head. "You alright?" "I think Morgan spiked the punch," Spencer told him, reaching out to shake his now empty cup (and when had he finished it?), the small chips of ice all that were left of the two large cubes he had started out with rattling around in the plastic. He could all but imagine Gideon taking that information in; weighing it along with the fact that the younger man had all but snuck his way into his darkened office and had yet to open his eyes and look at him. "And you thought it would be better to face a possible drunk in here than out there where Morgan might make fun of you?" "Would make fun of me," Spencer corrected though without heat. He was much too mellow and - let's face it - heading into sleepy, to worry about his fellow agent's teasing. Morgan may make him uncomfortable sometimes but he was never mean. Besides, he wasn't drunk, he was...pleasantly mellow. "And I thought a nap would be good." This time he when he heard Gideon chuckle it sounded closer. Cautiously cracking open a eye, Spencer saw one blue denimed thigh resting on the table where his drink had been. The wonderfully dark voice still held that hint of amusement. "So you're a sleepy drunk, then?" In his current mood Spencer only tipped his head up at the older man, smiling happily. The wide yawn only added credence to the accusation. "Yep
(Sam-Tony)
