Chapter Text
November 3rd, 2006:
When Spencer opened his apartment door that night at 7pm, he expected Sam to greet him. He expected to respond, to grab his coat and head out to Sam’s car. He expected words to be exchanged at the very least, but that wasn’t what he got.
Not that he minded, he mused, moaning softly and parting his lips under Sam’s, feeling Sam’s grip on his back tighten as he was hauled closer, pressed tightly against Sam’s broad chest and kissed within an inch of his life.
He wasn’t expecting Sam to show up sandwiched under layers of plaid and an oversized jacket, a shy smile stretching his lips and a book in hand. He’d tried to explain to Spencer why he showed up with a first edition copy of Trilby, but he never got a word out. Sam had taken one look at him, his heated gaze slicing through Spencer like a hot knife through butter, tracking the motion of Spencer’s tongue when it darted out to lave at his suddenly too dry lips, and dropped the book to the ground.
They moved at the same time, Sam grasping at Spencer’s waist and pulling him close, while Spencer clung to his upper arms, pulling him down. He walked backwards through the door into his apartment, his shoulders bumping against the wall he backed into blindly, and Sam followed him, pulling his hands off Spencer’s hips just long enough to cup the back of his head, so he wouldn’t knock it off the wall.
Spencer smiled against Sam’s lips at the thoughtful gesture, his mind pleasantly blank after an evening of non-stop thinking. He’d fretted all the way to the metro about what he was going to wear, worried up to his apartment about what they were going to do, and bemoaned his own inability to ask where they were going. He’d fussed over his clothes (too old and ill-fitting), his hair (to long and unruly), and spent the last thirty minutes zoning out on the couch when he realized it was too late, and there was nothing he could do to fix any of it.
Clearly, there was nothing to worry about. He hummed softly, and Sam responded in turn, crowding him up against the wall and kissing him senseless. He’d never had a date start out so well, Spencer thought as he scraped his fingernails down Sam’s shoulders, and even though there was a part of him that wanted to worry about how unlike him this was, there was another part that reminded him that this was what he had been waiting to do all weekend long.
Sam pulled away eventually, chuckling nervously, his breath fanning against Spencer’s cheeks across the negligible distance between them. Leaning his forehead against Spencer’s, he smiled as he tried to collect himself, though he was seemingly unable to take his hands off of his hips, his thumbs running over them in lazy, insistent circles. “I guess I should have said hello,” Sam murmured, his cheeks reddening to match his kiss-flushed lips, “but I’ve been thinking of doing that for weeks. I missed you.”
And just like that, Spencer’s nervous anxiety was back with a vengeance, heralded by his heart hammering violently in his chest. He’d missed him, thought about kissing him, practically jumped him the instant Spencer opened the door… what was he expecting this night to entail? Besides which, what had Spencer been thinking? He’d not had much experience with dating, and he’d most certainly never kicked one off with a harried make-out in his foyer. He flushed hotly, chewing on his lower lip and looking down at his hands, still firmly pressed into Sam’s chest.
Get out of your head, Spencer. He glanced up at Sam, trying to get a read on his expression and for once, Sam was an open book. He was genuinely happy to see him but was getting more nervous every second that ticked by without a response from Spencer. As his brow furrowed, his upturned eyes showcasing his worry, Spencer patted at his chest reassuringly, hoping to assuage any fear that he’d overstepped or said something wrong. “I did too,” he said, toying absently with a button on Sam’s shirt, “on all counts.”
Sam frowned, “You seem nervous.”
“I am nervous,” he replied with a shrug, “I don’t know if you gathered this about me, but I don’t get out much.”
With a sharp laugh, Sam relaxed, the tension bleeding out from under Spencer’s palms. “Oh good,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “Neither do I.”
“Well, at least we’re on the same page,” Spencer said, smoothing his hands down the front of his own rumpled button up, “I feel I should confess that I don’t normally make a habit of starting my dates like this.”
“We’re definitely on the same page, then.” Spencer raised a questioning brow, but Sam just added solemnly, “The last time I went on a date, it ended with me sleeping in my car, because she locked me out of the cabin we were staying at. All weekend. Didn’t start any better, either.”
Spencer winced. “My last date started as a security detail and ended in her almost being murdered by a stalker.”
“Ouch.” Sam nodded sympathetically and glanced at his watch. “Well,” he said, holding a hand out to Spencer, “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night rehashing failed relationships in your foyer, I promised to take you out, and I mean to keep it.”
Biting back the part of him that wanted to invite Sam further into his home, Spencer took his hand with a smile. So far, so good, he thought, and he let Sam lead him out of his apartment towards his car.
“This is an old building,” Sam commented as they walked down the stairs, having to duck to avoid hitting his head off the landings low ceiling, “and its in a great neighbourhood. How’d you manage to find this place?”
“A friend of mine lives here,” Spencer said, opening the reinforced wooden door at the foot of the stairs. A blast of chilly night air hit him immediately, and he stepped out into the cold, glad for the extra layers he’d decided to bundle into, “He kept an eye out for vacancies when I first moved here and helped me snap it up before it even went on the market.”
“Someone from work?” Sam asked, buttoning up his jacket as he walked through the door.
“No, a professor at Georgetown,” Spencer added, following Sam was he walked down the cement staircase towards the street, “I guest lecture there on occasion.”
That gave Sam pause, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to face Spencer for a moment with a grin. “Of course you do,” Sam said, reaching out to grab Spencer’s hand once more, this time lacing their fingers together and tugging him along, “Come on, my car’s parked down here.”
Turning the corner onto a side street, Spencer let himself be led by the hand, darting past rows of compact cars and SUV’s, but when they came to a stop by Sam’s car, he gasped. “Oh, wow,” he breathed, glancing up at Sam’s proud, knowing smile before looking down at the mint condition, classic muscle car they were standing beside, “this is yours?”
“Technically, its my brothers,” Sam admitted sheepishly, “He’s the reason she still runs like a dream… I’m just looking after her while he’s out of town.”
“How selfless of you,” Spencer said, gliding past him and into the passenger seat, taking in the pristine interior, “he’s done a great job.”
“Yeah, the Impala is Dean’s baby.” Sam climbed into the driver’s seat, frowning when he landed on a crumpled pair of scrubs, pulling them out from under him and tossing them into the back seat. He turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life, talk radio murmuring from its speakers, the seatbelt light clicking softly.
“Where is he?” Sam turned to him, tilting his head in confusion, and Spencer elaborated, “Your brother.” Sam tapped his right ring finger twice off the wheel, and Spencer winced, “Never mind.”
“No,” Sam said, running his palm along the wheel, not looking at Spencer but out at the street, at the lamplight shining off the tarmac, “No, its okay. I can talk about him.”
“But you don’t need to.” Sam clenched his jaw and inhaled sharply, still not looking at him, so Spencer turned in his seat, hesitating only a moment before reaching out and laying his hand on Sam’s thigh. Gripping the wheel tightly, Sam looked first down at Spencer’s hand, and then up at his face, and Spencer said earnestly, “If it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t need to talk about him, or your father.” Another two taps on the wheel, “I understand.”
Sam looked at him disbelievingly, so Spencer sighed, squeezing his thigh lightly and looking out the windshield, barely managing to whisper, “I know what its like to have things you’d rather not talk about.”
This wasn’t how he’d anticipated this night going. Sam immediately looked down at his lap, both hands still glued to the steering wheel and Spencer sat silent and still, worried he’d overstepped. He should never have said anything, what person wants their dirty laundry aired on their first date? He should have just ignored it, let Sam think he’d not recognized his compulsions and their origin, and there wouldn’t have been any issue. They’d be well on their way, no awkward tension or painful silences, and Spencer wouldn’t be feeling like the worlds biggest asshole for bringing up the one thing Sam probably didn’t want to address at all.
So caught up in mentally scolding himself, Spencer didn’t notice Sam had relinquished his iron grip on the wheel until his large, warm palm came to rest on top of his hand, his fingers wrapping around Spencer’s and pressing his hand into Sam’s thigh. He looked up, surprised to find Sam smiling at him, still nervous but not nearly so frightened. “If we could just avoid talking about my dad and Dean, that would actually be a big help.”
“Of course,” Spencer said quickly, eager to do anything that would help to relieve some of Sam’s stress, to help him feel comfortable, “And if there’s anything else you’d like to avoid, anything at all, just tell me.” He turned his hand, and Sam immediately laced their fingers, squeezing gently, “its no trouble at all.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, taking his hand back and laying it on the wheel, and Spencer reluctantly sat back, buckling his seatbelt as Sam put the car in drive. “The same goes for you,” he added, and Spencer huffed amusedly.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, “Deflection is my specialty. You couldn’t get me to talk about my baggage if you wanted to.” He shot Sam a pointed sideways glance, “But don’t try.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
And suddenly, it was as if nothing had happened. They talked amiably, fretting back and forth about work, joking that one or both of them was going to get called in. When they were stopped at a red light, Sam sheepishly explained that, “I had to make a deal with Kevin to guarantee tonight off work.” Spencer didn’t fully comprehend what he meant by “medical geek,” but the way he spoke led him to believe it was a huge time sink and commitment.
“Well, I hope tonight its worth it,” he said, and Sam smiled.
“It is.”
“We’ve not even made it out of your car, yet,” Spencer said, “isn’t it a little early to give it a final verdict?”
But Sam just shook his head, and as the light turned green and he pulled into the driveway of a hole in the wall diner on the edge of the city, he said, “I don’t see how it could get better than this.”
Though the restaurant wasn’t what he’d expected, Spencer wasn’t one to pass up greasy spoon diner food. He’d confessed his love of a good burger during one of their morning coffee dates, to Sam’s complete chagrin. While Sam would be the first to admit his diet had been lacking as of late, apparently, he tried to eat well when he could. The same could not be said of Spencer, who favoured take-out over anything, the greasier the better… really, it was a wonder he was as slight as he was.
Spencer started unbuckling his seat belt, but Sam held up a hand to stop him, saying, “You don’t have to come in. I’m just picking up our order, then we’re going somewhere else.”
“Where?” Spencer asked.
Sam smiled and shook his head, “It’s a surprise.” He climbed out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and saying, “I’ll be right back,” before closing the door behind him.
Spencer did his seatbelt up again, if only to stop the insistent, flashing light, and frowned after Sam’s retreating form. Watching as he sprinted up to the diner and ducked inside, Spencer worried his lower lip and wondered where they were going. Not for the first time (not even the first time that night) he found himself feeling a little unsettled by how little he knew going into this. Sam had taken the reigns from the get go, and Spencer hadn’t questioned a single thing, and up until now, he hadn’t needed to. They’d gone from Spencer’s apartment to a car… nothing crazy about that. But this?
It was freezing outside, so he couldn’t imagine they’d be doing anything outdoors. Was Sam intending to take him back to his apartment? Pretty presumptuous, Spencer mused, and besides, that couldn’t be the case, either. He had roommates, and Sam had already mentioned Cas and Jack were both home tonight.
So, what could they possibly be doing?
Glancing into the backseat of the Impala, Spencer immediately noticed the cooler nestled in the footwell and the blankets rolled up beside it. There was a flashlight on the backseat, and a leather roll next to the scrubs Sam had tossed back there… the kind of roll you’d use to store and transport knives.
It felt as though someone had doused him with ice water, and Spencer was suddenly completely sobered, the good mood he’d been in snuffed out and replaced with heady caution. Why would he have knives in the back seat of his car? It wasn’t like Sam was a chef, or a tradesperson, someone who used knives for their job. He was a doctor. And where was he taking him, anyways? Looking around, Spencer barely recognized where they were, besides the fact they were well out of the city proper. It looked as though they were headed to the conservation area, a heavily wooded locale with a tiny residential population. It would be secluded, and if they continued on this road, the traffic would quickly die off, and in only a few yards, so would the streetlights.
Spencer took a deep breath and groped around his feet, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized he’d remembered to bring his bag. Pulling it into his lap, he took a quick count of everything inside of it, double checking he had his phone, and tripled checking that he had his sidearm, stashed in the main pocket with the safety on, just in case.
What did he really know about Sam anyways? He knew he was a doctor at Bethesda General, but only because he’d told him so. Spencer had never thought to check his credentials. He knew his name and age, but who could say whether he was lying or not? Anyone could say anything, and Spencer knew better than anyone how manipulative people could be when they set their mind to it. Spencer should be able to tell if Sam was in any way disingenuous, he was a profiler after all, but what if he was so blinded by his personality, his awkward charm and his charisma that he’d failed to see Sam was some kind of psycho who was planning on taking him out into the wilderness to do god knows what, and—
“Hey,” Sam said as he opened the drivers side door, sliding into his seat with a bag full of food and a concerned look on his face, “are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Spencer stared at him unblinking, his hand still shoved in his bag and his mouth agape, his heart hammering in his chest and his blood roaring in his ears. Taking a moment to come back to his senses, Spencer dropped his bag back to the floor and nodded dumbly, taking the food from Sam so he could buckle his seat belt, and handing it back when beckoned. He didn’t say a word, just watched Sam carefully as he placed the food in the back seat, put the car in drive and slowly rolled over to the red light that would lead them back onto the main road.
Some talk radio program droned in the background, and Spencer held his breath when Sam flicked on the turn signal. If he signaled left, they’d be heading back into the city, back to civilization and safety. If he signaled right, they’d be going further out, heading into the woods, leaving behind the comforting bustle of people and lights for the dark, secluded wilderness.
Sam flipped the turn signal, and Spencer crumpled against the passenger door as it began rhythmically announcing their right-hand turn.
The light turned green before Spencer could find his voice, and when he found he finally could speak, his voice cracked uncomfortably. “So, you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked, and Sam shook his head.
“Nope,” he said, speeding up as they drove past the few scattered homes, which were fast becoming few and far between, “I told you, it’s a surprise. Nothing life changing, but I hope you’ll like it all the same.”
Spencer hummed in agreement, biting the inside of his lip as he looked out the window, trying to rationalize the situation in his head. There was every possibility he was fretting over nothing; he didn’t often date, and when he did, it was even rarer he would be dating a man. He was usually the one making plans, and even when he didn’t, they were pretty standard: dinner, movie, coffee, or something along that vein. One guy in college had taken him hiking, but that was during the day in the middle of summer, not the dead of night in late autumn, and he’d still ended up being a total creep.
Maybe it was just his job getting under his skin, like it had when he’d started having nightmares. You didn’t face the kinds of things he did every day and just leave them in the office when your work was done… they stuck with you. He could just be overreacting, assuming the worst of Sam given the strange circumstances he found himself in at the moment, all because he’d seen very similar scenarios play out all throughout his career, though usually with young women. Maybe he was seeing passing similarities to every remote rape and murder case he’d ever worked on, and it was setting his instincts to high gear. Really, that had to be it, right? It was Sam after all.
Sam, who was sweet and gentle, who’d woken up early every weekday for months just to spend a few hours with him before work.
Sam, who was a considerate, talented young doctor, and who challenged Spencer intellectually in a way he’d not had the pleasure of experiencing since grad school.
But also, the same Sam who had all but stalked him for weeks before finally talking to him. Who watched him surreptitiously and obsessed over him.
And Sam, who had a secret and obviously traumatic past, one he kept shrouded but that manifested itself in obsessive tendencies and compulsive behaviour.
Spencer felt like a balloon filled to capacity, so full of tension he feared he might burst. They drove in near silence, with only passing moments of casual conversation breaking through the hum of the tires on the pavement, and the rumble of the engine. Sam at least seemed oblivious to Spencer’s internal freak out, humming carelessly to himself as he drove down the dark, empty road. That’s good, Spencer thought with some relief, at least he wasn’t expecting him to panic.
If he needed to panic.
Because there was still the distinct possibility he was wrong about Sam. It wasn’t very often that Spencer’s first impression of someone was off. He was a good judge of character, he had to be, given his career, and normally when he met someone, he could figure out within the first ten minutes whether they were safe or not.
But, he’d been wrong about Sam at first, hadn’t he? Spencer gulped, sinking further into his seat and looking out the window, counting the mile markers as they passed him by. He’d thought Sam was a creep, that had been his first impression. A weirdo stalker who made him uncomfortable. It was only after he’d gotten to know him, given him a chance to redeem himself, that Spencer had begun to see him in a different light. Had started to like him.
What if his first instinct was correct, and he’d only convinced himself he was after the fact? It wouldn’t be the first time. There were many recorded instances wherein victims had gone along with or dated their eventual aggressors despite their initial revulsion towards them, just because they were handsome. What if he had allowed himself to be blinded by Sam’s good looks and his charm, allowed his judgement to be clouded by hormones and attraction, and was now being taken out to the middle of nowhere so Sam could hurt him? Hadn’t Spencer already stepped outside of his comfort zone that night? He’d made out with Sam in the entryway of his apartment without so much as saying hello! That wasn’t like him at all!
Glancing at Sam out of the corner of his eye, Spencer surreptitiously sized him up. If it came down to a contest of strength, there was no way he could defend himself. Bureau-mandated hand-to-hand training aside, Sam had four inches and almost a hundred pounds on him. There was no way he could outrun him either; Sam jogged five miles every single morning… Spencer’s only exercise came from the odd chase during an active case, and mandatory fitness tests every five years.
He had his sidearm at least. He just had to make sure he always had his bag on him, and that Sam didn’t get his hands on the knife roll in the back.
“Here we are,” Sam said, and Spencer felt his heart sink when he realised they were at the conservation area, pulling off the road into the park itself. Sam didn’t stop at the parking lot either; he turned onto a dirt road and kept driving straight into the woods, the trees closing in on them from both sides.
Spencer gulped nervously and forced himself to take a steadying breath. “Where are we going?” he asked again, not expecting an answer.
But to his surprise, Sam pointed off to the right, the same direction the dirt road was winding, and said, “Just up ahead. There’s a cliff face where the road ends, we’ll get out there.”
“We’re getting out?” Spencer asked, keeping his voice level and calm, “Isn’t it a little cold?”
“We won’t be cold,” Sam assured him, though Spencer shivered at the implication, pressing further into the door, “don’t worry, I came prepared.”
Spencer slowly pulled his bag up onto the seat.
Seconds felt like hours as they slowly drove down the dirt road, only their headlights and the moon illuminating their path. The droning voice on the radio sounded deafening in the quiet cabin of the car, and Spencer needed to remind himself to breathe, to act normal. No need to let Sam know he was on to him, if Sam was even up to anything.
Eventually, after rolling up hill a little while, the trees parted, and Spencer had to squint as he was bombarded by the light of the city and sky. Sam wasn’t kidding about the cliff; they were up really high, and it was a sheer drop, only marked by a small wooden guardrail and a few pay-per-use binoculars. Over the cliff there was the skyline of the city, and Spencer had to admit it looked beautiful. It was a crisp, clear night and all of the lights in the city stood out in stark relief to the dark, black sky. Above it hung the bright, full moon and a large smattering of stars, only somewhat hidden by the lights of the city below.
The car rolled to a stop, and Sam turned the key, killing the engine. He snapped off his seatbelt, grabbing the food from the back seat and kicking open the driver’s side door. Apparently, he was expecting Spencer to follow him, and after placing the food on the hood of the car, Sam said, “Come on, I’m going to need your help carrying some of this stuff.”
“No,” Spencer said, sitting up straight and shoving his hand in his bag. He reached around until he found the butt of his gun, keeping the safety on but his finger next to the trigger, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where we are, and what we’re doing.”
His words struck a nerve, apparently. Sam’s posture changed instantly, and he ducked back into the car, one knee on the seat and one hand on the roof. He moved so quickly, so unexpectedly that Spencer panicked, thinking he was crawling back in. Instantly he was assaulted by the imagined image of Sam grabbing him by the leg, dragging him out of the car forcibly and Spencer pulled his gun from his bag, plastering his back against the door and clicking the safety off, yelling at Sam to “Back off!”
“Holy shit!”
Sam most certainly backed off. He moved out of the car so fast it rocked on its axels, and he stood in the open doorway with his hands in the air. “Jesus, Spencer,” he said, unable to look him in the eye as he was standing at full height, but Spencer could hear the confusion and panic in his voice, “what the hell!?”
“My sentiments exactly!” Spencer resituated himself, keeping the barrel of his gun trained on Sam’s knee, and asked, “Now where are we, and what are we doing here!?”
“Rockwood conservation area, and going on a date,” Sam replied, shifting between the balls of his feet, his hands still presumably in the air, “Or at least I thought we were.”
“What kind of person takes someone on a date at night in the middle of the woods!?” Spencer huffed, his voice reaching a fever high pitch.
“The kind of person who wanted to take you to a late night showing at the Smithsonian, but who’s also a starving medical intern and couldn’t afford it!” Sam sounded intensely confused, his posture rigid as he asked, “What kind of person brings a gun on a first date?”
“An FBI agent who’s seen enough first dates gone wrong to risk going without!”
“Oh,” Sam said, dropping his hands down to his sides. He didn’t sound confused anymore, and when he spoke again, it was with sincere regret as he said, “Oh god, I am so sorry.”
Spencer frowned, “For what?”
“For taking you out to the woods at night without thinking about what you do for a living.” Sam moved again, taking slow and measured steps towards the car, and Spencer made sure to keep his gun trained on his knee. Ducking again, Sam leaned down so his head was hovering just before the open driver’s door, his expression apologetic, even though his gaze darted nervously between the gun and Spencer’s wild, anxious eyes. “I’m so sorry I scared you,” he said, “I wasn’t thinking. We’re just here to eat greasy diner food and take in the view.” Sam gestured over his shoulder to the cliff, “You can see the whole city from up here, and it’s the only place nearby where you can see the stars. There’s a fire pit over there… I figured I could build us a fire and we could hang out up here for a bit, have dinner and then grab a coffee afterwards. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Spencer said, his face flushing in embarrassment as he lowered his gun to the seat, flicking the safety on. There wasn’t even a hint of insincerity in Sam’s voice. “That… actually sounds nice.”
“I thought you might like it,” Sam replied, biting his lip nervously and glancing down at the gun, relief rolling off him in waves once it was no longer trained on him. “I can take you back, it’s… it’s not a big deal.”
God, he was running the gamut of emotions that night.
Spencer deflated, guilt filling in the space left behind by his fear. He watched Sam mournfully, mentally chastising himself for jumping to conclusions. Granted, the whole thing was strange, the whole situation so out of the norm, but so was Sam. He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d call “Joe Normal,” and that was what Spencer liked about him. He was an enigma, a puzzle he needed to figure out, and he just ruined his chances of ever doing so. “Sure,” he said softly, shoving his gun back into his bag with a remorseful sigh, “If you think that’s best.”
Goes to figure Spencer would ruin his first date in ages, with a guy he really liked, by pulling a fucking gun on him.
There was probably a good reason he didn’t date very often.
But Sam was full of surprises. Taking a seat back in the car, he pinned Spencer under his intense stare and said, “I don’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t think that’s best,” he repeated earnestly, “I don’t want to take you back. I’ve wanted to go out with you since the first time I spoke to you. I’ve had an enormous, middle school crush on you since the second I first saw you. I don’t want to take you home, and I don’t want to call this night quits before we’ve given it a chance, but if you don’t feel safe and you want to go, I will. In a heart beat. I just need to know what you want.”
“Seriously?” Spencer scoffed and shuffled forward in his seat, erasing the distance between them as he looked Sam dead in the eye, “I just pulled a gun on you! I just accused you of taking me out here to do… something horrible to me! There is absolutely no reason for you to be worrying about my well being right now, and you most certainly don’t have to be accommodating my needs! Sam, you shouldn’t even want to be out here with me anymore!”
“But I do,” Sam said, reaching out and grabbing both of Spencer’s hands in his, “Call me crazy if you want, but I do. You hunt serial killers for a living, Spencer. I need to start assuming that you bring some of that baggage home with you. Honestly, any normal person would be just as freaked out as you were, and I really should have told you what we were doing. But you aren’t normal, are you? You’re…” Spencer grit his teeth, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and was pleasantly surprised when Sam said instead, “You’re extraordinary.”
“And you’re way too forgiving,” Spencer told him, straight-faced and Sam laughed.
“I’ve been told,” he said, squeezing Spencer’s hands, “but I’m also not as thoughtful as I should be, and I promise I’ll work on that.” He looked at Spencer, imploring him with upturned eyes, “Will you stay?”
Spencer bit his lip nervously, scanning Sam’s expression for any trace of insincerity and coming up lacking. So, instead of answering him with his words, which seemed to be failing him that night anyhow, Spencer held on tight to Sam’s hands and leaned forward, catching his lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.
When they broke away, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, smiling as he asked, “I’ll take that as a yes?”
Spencer nodded, “You grab the cooler, I’ll carry the food.”
It was amazing to him that they could slip back into normalcy after a freak out like that. Make no mistake, Spencer’s guilt hung over his head like a dark cloud, but Sam… seemed fine. He wanted him to be there. He seemed happy, chatting calmly as he built a fire, and Spencer busied himself with setting out the food and the blankets, letting himself relax.
He knew Sam, he assured himself. He did, he’d known him for months. How had he let himself get so worked up, questioning his instincts and his judgement even though he knew better? Maybe his job was getting to him more than he realized… this was his first date in years, since taking the position at the BAU (Lila didn’t really count, he figured. That was just work).
He must have changed a lot since then.
He popped open the cooler, smiling when he saw that Sam had brought a plethora of things to drink, ranging from cold brew coffee, to beer, to wine and a nauseating looking green smoothie. “This must be for you,” he said, holding the smoothie out to Sam as he joined him by the fire, and Sam took it gratefully. They settled down together, sitting side by side, greasy diner grub laid out in front of them and the city sprawling underneath, and Spencer murmured, “I’m so sorry.”
Sam just shook his head, throwing his arm around Spencer’s shoulder and pulling him into his side, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he said, “You don’t need to be. We’ve both got baggage, remember? You’re just a little worse at hiding it than you thought you were.”
Spencer laughed, pressing closer to Sam, soaking in the heat of the fire and the comfortable weight of his body beside him. He reached down and grabbed his bottle of coffee, sipping at it as he looked out over the city scape. “It really is beautiful,” Spencer said, “You tend to forget when you’re in the thick of it.”
Sam hummed his agreement, “That’s why I love this spot. I used to hike out here a lot when I was still in med school. I don’t have as much time anymore, but I like the woods. Being immersed in nature. It helps put things in perspective.”
“I grew up in Las Vegas,” Spencer said, munching on a few French fries and pulling the blanket he had draped around him like a cape a little tighter, “there weren’t really any woods to escape to, but the desert was similar, I guess. Just big, open and arid, dangerous and wild. It used to make me feel small.”
“I think we need to feel that way sometimes. To remind us what’s really important.” Sam took his arm back, digging into his food as he artfully changed the subject, “I know you’re dying to tell me something about these constellations, so, lets have it.”
Spencer swatted at him playfully but obliged nonetheless. It was nice, actually, to have someone who sincerely wanted to hear what he had to say, no matter how ramble-y or inane he got. His friends at work tended to get tired of his encyclopedic insight on the origins of pressed paper or his inter-generational Star Trek theories, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, watching Spencer with rapt fascination as he talked about different cultural myths regarding the same constellations, about their differences and similarities despite geographical or generational disparities. He engaged with him the same way he would when discussing a book they were both reading, which reminded Spencer of something he’d forgotten to ask about earlier that night.
“Why Trilby?”
“Hmm?” Sam looked over at him curiously, mid bite of his salad.
“You brought me a first edition copy of Trilby,” Spencer clarified, “Why?”
Sam shrugged, “I couldn’t bring you flowers.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t strike me as a flowers kind of guy.”
“So, your alternative to flowers is a first edition of an obscure English novel?”
Sam nodded and smiled, his dimples more pronounced by the firelight, “For you? Yeah. I mean, what do you get the guy who’s read everything?”
“I haven’t read everything,” Spencer said, and when Sam cocked a brow he turned towards the cityscape, trying and failing to keep from smiling, “There are still a few languages I’ve yet to master.”
Sam’s laughter was like music to his ears.
When their meal was done and Spencer had moved from coffee to beer, the conversation started to lull. They’d been out there for two hours, and though the wind had picked up, the fire crackled vigorously, doing well to keep them warm. Still, Spencer tugged the blanket around his shoulders just a little tighter, and shivered despite himself, shaking where he was pressed up against Sam’s side.
“It is getting a little cold,” Sam said, wrapping his arm around Spencer’s shoulder again and rubbing his hand up and down his arm, “We could start heading back if you wanted, or we could move into the car. Might be a little high-school though.”
“What do you mean?” Spencer asked.
Sam furrowed his brow, “You know, back in high-school? Driving up to make-out point, hanging out in the car ‘cause it was the only place to get any privacy?”
“I was twelve when I graduated high school,” Spencer clarified, “I wasn’t going to make out anywhere with anyone.”
Sam made a small noise of understanding, before pursing his lips and looking off into the distance. Clearly there was something he wanted to say hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back, clearing his throat instead.
Maybe it was the winding, stressful route they had taken to get to that point, sitting on top of a cliff at night, overlooking the city. Maybe it was the wide scope of emotions Spencer had run through that night alone, or the anticipation he’d built up during the long, excruciating wait to find time for this date. Whatever it was, it filled Spencer with a confidence he didn’t know he possessed, and he turned to Sam, actually managing to look up from the ground as he said, “Maybe… we could rectify that?”
Sam looked down at him sharply, the light from the fire casting shadows across his pensive expression, the reflection of the flames dancing in his narrowed eyes. He licked his lips slowly, and Spencer felt his grip on his arm tighten, his fingers squeezing him through the layers of jackets and blankets he was burrowed under. Spencer flushed, suddenly incredibly warm under the heat of Sam’s gaze, and yet he shivered, this time not from the cold but with anticipation. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and slowly rolled it through, watching avidly as Sam’s predatory stare snapped down to track the movement.
His heart pounded in his chest, his belly exploding with warmth as he waited, in a state of suspended animation. He hardly remembered talking, or what he’d said, all he could focus on was the animal, rapacious reaction it had sparked in Sam. Just a few simple words, the barest hint at a kiss and all of Sam’s attention was zeroed in on him, flooding him with heat, and desire, and a wanting that he’d never felt before.
Oh Spencer, he thought to himself, unconsciously leaning closer to Sam, you were right the first time: this man is deadly.
But as quickly as it appeared, the carnal energy that had jolted and crackled between them was gone, snuffed out when Sam tore his gaze away, taking his arm back and clambering awkwardly to his feet. Disappointment crashed into him like a tidal wave, dousing any spark of hopeful anticipation that had seeded itself inside of him, and Spencer sighed, helping to clean up the empty food containers left in the wake of their dinner. The moved in silence, Sam dousing the fire with water from the cooler, Spencer rolling the blankets back up and heading to the car, both working quickly to get out of the cold, and away from the awkward tension that hung down over them.
Spencer climbed into the car, thoroughly embarrassed and not sure of what to say as Sam joined him in the Impalas front seat. He turned the key in the ignition, and the radio came alive. Instead of incessant talking, the station it was set too seemingly switched to jazz well after dark, and the sound of a smoky trombone reverberated through the speakers. Spencer shuffled in his seat, grabbing his seatbelt when he heard the pop of a bottlecap.
Frowning, he turned back to Sam and found him holding out another beer, already open for Spencer to take. “Oh,” he breathed, tentatively taking the bottle from Sam, “I thought we were leaving.”
“Why?” Sam asked, “Did you want to?”
“No!” Spencer said, shaking his head, “No, of course not. You just… got really quiet.”
Surprisingly, Sam laughed, ducking his chin to his chest and running a hand through his hair. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” he asked.
“Please do.”
“I—” Sam gestured helplessly towards Spencer as he confessed, “I don’t know what to make of you, Spence.” He huffed and turned in his seat, curling one leg up underneath him and resting an arm along the backrest, “You’re so hard to read, and sometimes I can’t… I don’t know if you’re being serious, or just pulling my leg. I can’t tell if you’re having a good time, or if you want to leave. Even when I think you’re being straightforward, I keep second guessing myself because I just don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry,” Spencer said helplessly, picking at the cuff of his jacket, “I didn’t realize, I—”
“No, it’s not,” Sam made a frustrated sound and paused, running a hand over his mouth and collecting his words before continuing, “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, and its nothing to do with you at all. I just, I really like you, and I think I’m letting it cloud my judgement. I don’t want to mess anything up, but in an attempt to avoid doing so, I’m messing things up.”
“But you’re not—” Spencer started, but Sam cut him off.
“You pulled a gun on me fifteen minutes into our date,” he said incredulously, “because I decided to take you into the middle of the woods at night, and wouldn’t tell you where we were going!”
“Exactly!” Spencer said, gesticulating wildly at the space in between them, “I pulled a gun on you! I-I threatened you with severe bodily harm, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you should be suing me! You should be asking for my badge number! If anyone is ruining anything, it’s me. I’m just so insecure that in my head, even though I should know better, the thought of someone like you wanting to be with someone like me is just… so incredibly preposterous that it couldn’t possibly be true. So, I let myself get worked up and extrapolated a crisis where there was none.” He took a deep breath, “I messed up, not you.”
“Okay, first of all,” Sam said, counting off on his fingers, “this isn’t the first time I’ve been on the business end of a gun, so while I might not have seen it coming, its not like you traumatized me or anything. Two, of course I want to be with you, have you seen you?” Spencer flushed beet red, and Sam smiled, “You’re brilliant, funny and gorgeous, you can't tell me there isn’t a person on this planet who wouldn’t kill to be with you. And three,” Sam looked Spencer in the eye, saying earnestly, “I’m having a wonderful time with you tonight, threat of bodily harm and all.”
“As am I,” Spencer said softly, asking, “so, what’s the problem?”
Sam shrugged. “We’re both incredibly neurotic, self-conscious man-children who can’t get out of their own heads long enough to enjoy themselves?”
It made sense.
It made so much sense that Spencer couldn’t manage to hold in the laugh that bubbled past his lips.
Clapping a hand over his mouth, Spencer looked up at Sam, absolutely mortified but Sam just grinned at him, chuckling lightheartedly as Spencer snorted out another laugh, stifling the brunt of it but not managing to hold his amusement at bay. Struck by the absolute absurdity of their behaviour, Spencer huffed, giggling uncontrollably behind his hand until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Crumpling forward, he bent almost in two under the force of his howling laughter. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his shoulders shook and he gasped, trying to regain his composure and failing miserably. Sam patted him on the back but wasn’t faring much better (Spencer’s amusement was apparently infectious) and the car bounced on its shocks as Sam threw his head back, a full body laugh rocking through him, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
“We are,” Spencer managed, sitting back in his seat with reddened cheeks, panting out the last of his giggles.
“Are what?”
“Incredibly neurotic,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face and looking over at Sam, smiling from ear to ear, “Its almost impressive.”
“Maybe you should conduct a study on us, doctor,” Sam joked, catching his breath and breathing out a huge, steadying sigh, “You’d be famous.”
“Not a chance!” Spencer swatted at him lightly, and Sam laughed again, wincing and rubbing at his side, “I work with a team of profilers, the last thing I need to do is give them more reasons to go poking around inside my head.”
Sam sobered a little, tilting his head where it rested on the back of the seat so he could look at Spencer, “That must be exhausting.”
Spencer shook his head, “Not really. We have a rule: no profiling profilers. But sometimes you can’t help it.”
“Have you ever profiled me?” Sam asked.
“A little,” Spencer confessed, leaning sideways against the seat and taking a sip of his beer, “but I’ve tried to refrain.”
Sam hummed, thinking for a moment. “Alright then,” he said, nodding his head with finality, “Let’s hear it.”
“No,” waving his hands in front of him, Spencer put his hypothetical foot down, “I’ve thrown too many curveballs during this date already, I’m not doing it again.”
“Not even if I’m asking you to?”
“Not even then,” Spencer said, crossing his legs and leaning back against the door, his head resting against the cool glass of the window, “but you can ask me anything else, if you like.”
Raising a brow, Sam asked, “Anything?”
“Within reason,” Spencer rolled his eyes, grinning over the rim of his beer bottle.
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, it seemed. He was giddy, relieved at discovering they were both on a level playing field, both crazy and nervous but so incredibly interested in the other they were willing to fight through their neuroses to make this night work. And it was. Spencer, even though he had been frightened within an inch of his life, had threatened Sam with a gun and was still riding along this intense emotional rollercoaster he’d built up for himself, was having a great time.
Sam was easy to talk to. He was kind and forgiving, and he didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s occasional bouts of anxiety, which usually culminated in him getting stuck inside his head. He was comfortable with silence, and when the conversation lulled he was perfectly content to sit and watch the stars, or the twinkling lights of the city below them, listening to late night jazz filtering through the stereo and just enjoying each others company.
“Okay.” Sam reached tentatively across the bench seat, his fingers just brushing Spencer’s knee as he asked, “Why did you join the BAU?”
“That’s a loaded question,” Spencer said, huffing awkwardly and trying to ignore the heat that bloomed across his thigh when Sam finally placed his palm down over his knee, stroking the rough denim with the pad of his thumb, “I guess I just wanted to help people.”
“There are a million and one jobs where you could have helped people,” Sam said, gazing absently out the windshield, “You could have been a medical doctor, a psychiatrist, a social worker. You could have been an entrepreneur, the da Vinci of the twenty-first century, but instead you decided to work for the FBI in the BAU. Why?”
Spencer took a long gulp of his beer, swishing it along his gums as he repeated the question in his mind. Why did he join the BAU? No one had ever asked him that before, and to be honest, he’d never given it much thought. “I was taking a criminal psychology course in grad school,” he said, joining Sam in looking out at the city scape, “I’d taken many beforehand, obviously. One of my bachelor’s degrees was in clinical psychology, so I’d studied criminals before. Bundy, Gacy, Garavito… Every prolific serial killer who was ever studied or captured, all the things they’ve done and why, its all up here,” he tapped his temple, “locked away forever.”
“That sounds horrible,” Sam said softly.
“It’s not that bad,” Spencer assured him, placing his hand over Sam’s, “living with an eidetic memory, you learn how to compartmentalize the information you take in, and I honestly found them interesting. I liked to pick them apart, to sort through their psychosis and motives, to figure out why they did the things they did. What drove them to it, and why they weren’t caught sooner.” He chuckled, “Call it a morbid hobby, but I’m fascinated with the human mind. It always broke my heart though, that there was nothing I could do for their victims. And every time I encountered a case that went on too long, or a criminal that escaped the authorities, I couldn’t help but feel like I could have done better. If I were on the case, I could have solved it, and maybe I could have saved some lives.”
“So, you joined the BAU?”
“I honestly didn’t register that the BAU was an option,” Spencer replied, shrugging his shoulders flippantly, “I mean, look at me. I’m not the police work type, and had the FBI crossed my mind at any time, I would have dismissed it as not a viable option. I would never have thought I’d make it past basic training.” He paused, smiling softly when Sam turned his hand under his palm, looping their fingers together, “Then I met Gideon. He was a guest lecturer, and he showed me there was work to be done that fit within my interests, profiling criminals and catching them before they could do more harm. Suddenly, there was a practical application to the skills I’d been privately cultivating, and I was introduced to a career that would allow me to help the people who needed it most.”
“And you made it through basic,” Sam said, looking over at him with a small smile, “good for you.”
“Not quite.” Grinning wryly, Spencer shot Sam a sideways glance and said, “Gideon grandfathered me in. All I had to do was pass a written examination, a few interviews and attend a couple fundraising galas.”
Sam threw his head back and laughed up towards the roof of the car. “Showing off the resident genius,” he said, “You’ve probably had to do a few of those in your lifetime, huh?”
“Just a couple,” Spencer replied, chuckling along with him. “What about you?” he asked, “Why did you become a doctor?”
“I wanted to help people, too,” Sam said, and when Spencer waved at him to elaborate, he shrugged, “I really don’t have a story to go along with it. There wasn’t any grand revelation, or a personal mentor that led me to medicine… I just…”
Sam broke off and looked away again, this time pensively, his leg jittering as he thought. “I didn’t have what you would call a happy childhood, and I went through some pretty bad stuff from the time I was very young,” he said, and his grip on Spencer’s hand tightened, only after he tapped his finger twice, “But no matter how bad things got for me, there was always someone else who had it worse, who I couldn’t help. I felt useless when I was a kid, seeing and hearing these people who were suffering, who needed someone to save them, and I was too little to do anything. So, I made myself a promise, that when I got older I would never allow myself to be in a position where I couldn’t help people who needed it, ever again.”
“So, you became a doctor,” Spencer breathed, squeezing Sam’s hand just as tightly, his heart pounding in his chest, fueled by a fresh burst of affection that burned in his veins, “that’s incredibly selfless of you.”
“You too,” Sam said, gazing at Spencer from across the bench seat, the moonlight hitting just the one half of his face, “You could have been anything, but you chose to do something dangerous and noble.”
“I wouldn’t call it noble,” Spencer said, but Sam shook his head to the contrary.
“I would.”
His body thrummed, tingling with nerves and heat from the tips of his fingers to his toes, and Spencer licked his lips, placing his nearly empty bottle in the cup holder and shuffling a little closer. The move was subtle, but Sam mirrored it, gliding a little further along the bench, his thigh brushing against Spencer’s.
That static energy was back, the same that had burst between them when Spencer first opened his front door, and when they were sitting by the fire. His skin prickled with heat, and Spencer met Sam’s intense expression with his own, watching with piqued interest as Sam’s jaw clenched, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.
“Spencer?” Sam called to him, his voice low and yearning.
“Yes?” He replied with barely more than a whisper.
“Can I kiss you?”
Spencer’s heart jumped into his throat, and he exhaled slowly, murmuring, “Yes.”
They moved in sync, their nosed bumping against each other and Spencer laughed nervously, tilting his head to the side as Sam smiled against his mouth, sucking Spencer’s bottom lip between his. He gasped, his lips parting and Sam cupped the back of his head, holding him still as he kissed him, growing bolder with each press of their lips.
Spencer reached up with both hands, tangling them in Sam’s thick hair, scraping his nails gently against his scalp and relishing in the groan that rumbled in Sam’s throat. He was pulled closer, Sam wrapping his other arm around his waist and hauling him forward with surprising fervor, pressing him into Sam’s chest and forcing him to lean against him, Sam supporting the brunt of his weight. There was a barely constrained power to Sam’s embrace, a hinted strength in his arms and Spencer fell into it, succumbing to his embrace and holding on for dear life, as the sound of their kisses filled the cabin.
His breath came in shaking, panting gasps, and Spencer closed his lips around Sam’s tongue as he retreated, sucking softly and whimpering when Sam’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into Spencer’s shoulder through his jacket. He ran his hand down Spencer’s back, tracing the curve of his spine with his palm and Spencer arched into it, canting his hips backwards, all but sitting in his lap as Sam slipped his fingertips under the hem of his shirts, brushing against smooth, heated skin.
Having been uncharacteristically bold all evening already, Spencer pressed both palms to Sam’s chest, pushing him back just enough that he had space to throw one leg over Sam’s lap, pulling himself up onto knees and straddling Sam’s thighs. “Fuck, Spencer,” Sam groaned against his lips, his hands flying up to Spencer’s hips and holding on tight, steadying him as he leaned forward and kissed him once again.
It was swelteringly hot inside the car, the windows fogging as they made out like teenagers at the beginning of a cheesy horror flick but Spencer hadn’t the presence of mind to care. Sam was moaning louder now, huffing for breath as they parted for seconds at a time, and when Spencer settled more firmly into his lap Sam bucked his hips upwards, the firm line of his arousal pressing into Spencer’s inner thigh.
He arched his back, keening when Sam shoved his hands up underneath his jacket and shirt, running his palms against his bare skin as he moved away from his lips, kissing across Spencer’s jaw and down to his neck. Spencer tilted his head to the side, baring his neck to Sam’s relentless assault of lips and tongue and breathing hard. His chest heaved and he rest his forehead against the seats backrest, the leather cool against his overheated skin as Sam slid his hands down, past his hips to cup his ass through his jeans, squeezing firmly.
Spencer’s eyes snapped open and he sat up immediately. “Wait, wait,” he said, reaching back and pulling Sam’s hands off him, “stop.”
Sam was apologizing before he even knew what was wrong, taking his hands back and holding them up like he had earlier, and Spencer felt guilty all over again. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, his brow furrowing as he asked, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“Yes, yeah I-I’m fine,” Spencer said, lifting back up onto his knees, trying to put some distance between them, though he was still sitting in Sam’s lap, “You didn’t do anything to apologise for, I just—”
You just what? he thought, running a hand over his flushed face as he tried to collect himself. Everything was fine, and then he just… wigged out. He panicked, and he needed to stop, but what the hell had happened?
He looked down at Sam apologetically, who was still holding his hands out at his sides, looking more concerned than confused, and Spencer’s heart thrummed painfully in his chest. Sam’s hair was a mess, his lips swollen and plump and his breath was still coming in panting little gulps, his chest heaving just inches from Spencer’s belly. He could feel the heat radiating off him, through their layers of clothing and the scant inches of space, and Spencer wanted nothing more than to duck back down, wrap his arms around those broad shoulders and kiss again and again, until he had nothing left in him to give.
But he couldn’t. He was paralyzed with the realization that this was so unlike him. Spencer didn’t make out in cars with anyone, not even on a date. He wasn’t even particularly fond of kissing on the first date, and he didn’t get past chaste pecks on the lips until at least the third. And yet here he was, planted firmly in Sam’s lap on the last leg of their rollercoaster of a date, trying his darndest to lick his freaking tonsils, grinding against him and getting felt up in the middle of the woods, in a muscle car.
He was a grown man first of all, not a seventeen-year-old girl. He was too old to be doing shit like this, and just because he never got the chance when he was younger, didn’t mean he had to make up for it now. Secondly, this was their first date, and they’d already jumped each other twice. Things were getting too heated, way too fast, and someone needed to pump the breaks. And lastly, this wasn’t something that Spencer ever did! He'd never done anything like this before, so why was he doing it now?
And why couldn’t he just accept that it was because he wanted to?
He wanted, oh how he wanted. He couldn’t look at Sam, couldn’t touch him because he knew the instant he did, the instant he saw his soulful eyes or felt him move under his palms, Spencer knew he would give in. He was holding onto the very threads of his self control, and for what? What was so wrong about wanting to be physical with someone? He knew he liked Sam, knew that he liked kissing him and spending time with him, knew that he wanted to be with him… so why was he trying so hard to convince himself not to?
He sighed, running his fingers over his swollen lips as he clambered off of Sam’s lap and back into the passenger seat.
He was such a coward.
“Nothings wrong,” he repeated, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, “it’s just getting late, and we should probably start heading back.”
Spencer couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam, staring intently out the passenger window instead, but he could hear the hurt and confusion in his voice when he said, “Sure. Yeah, of course, I’ll take you home.”
The drive back to Spencer’s apartment was as quiet as the drive away from it. The radio hummed lowly, and the engine rumbled but that was the only noise in the cabin, both Sam and Spencer deathly silent. Spencer knew he should say something, but he didn’t know what to say. He worried that if he opened his mouth, he would do something stupid and brave, like invite Sam up to his apartment, or ask him to take him back to Sam’s. His body was still vibrating with arousal, and he had to actively try to regulate his breathing, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just… he wasn’t that kind of person!
He’d only had sex a handful of times in his life, and that had been after weeks of dating and getting to know someone. He’d never gone as far as he had that night on a first date, hell, he hardly got that far at all with any of his dates, regardless of the time frame. And he’d never wanted to, never before.
But Sam was different. He didn’t know why, but he was. Spencer liked him, had been attracted to him (begrudgingly, to start) since the day he first saw him, and after tonight it was safe to say he was completely infatuated with him. For the first time in his life, he felt completely and utterly in over his head, awash with feelings he couldn’t begin to quantify. All he knew for certain was when Sam touched him, he came alive, and if he were to do so again, Spencer wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving in and just taking what Sam was offering him.
And that frightened him to no end.
By the time they’d pulled up in front of Spencer’s apartment, the tension in the air had started to slip away, and Spencer had begun to relax. While they were still quiet, Sam was no longer stiff and awkward, and Spencer had pulled himself out of his mental freak out, enough that when Sam asked if he could walk him up to his apartment, Spencer said yes.
Standing at the precipice of his apartment, hovering in front of his open door, Spencer looked down at his shoes, and said, “Thanks for tonight, I had a really good time.”
“No need to thank me,” Sam replied, shuffling between the balls of his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets as he awkwardly hunched his shoulders, “I’m glad you had fun, and hopefully I didn’t freak you out too badly.”
“Once I knew what we were doing, I was fine,” Spencer said, looking up at Sam with a small, rueful smile, “I’m glad I didn’t ruin everything by threatening you.”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Spencer clicked his tongue and gave him a small shove, Sam laughing as he danced out of the way. His countenance changed quickly, however, when he went to say goodbye. Tapping Spencer’s chin to get him to look him in the eye, he asked, “Are you going to tell me what happened earlier, in the car?”
“Nothing happened,” Spencer said, and seeing that Sam didn’t believe him, explained, “Nothing to do with you. It’s just that, this was our first date, and its… everything’s just—”
“Moving too fast?”
Not fast enough. Spencer shook the unwanted thought from his head, and said, “Just a little.”
“Okay,” Sam said, grabbing Spencer’s hand and squeezing it gently, “that’s alright, we can slow things down. But,” he licked his lips nervously, his eyes flicking from their joined hands up to Spencer’s eyes, and asked, “are we okay?”
Spencer nodded, and squeezed his hand back, “Yeah, we’re okay.”
Sam breathed a sign of relief, “Good.” He leaned forwards, and Spencer stiffened, not knowing what he was planning on doing, or what he would do if Sam kissed him again, but all Sam did was cup the back of his neck as he gently kissed his forehead. “Have a good night Spencer,” he said, tearing himself away with some difficulty, and heading towards the stairs.
Don’t let him go, you idiot, don’t let him leave!
“Sam, wait!”
Spencer reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand just as Sam turned back to face him, his eyebrows up to his hairline and incredibly confused. Spencer wished he could help him, catch him up to what he was thinking, but for once, even he didn’t know. He just couldn’t let Sam leave, not over something so menial, so silly as Spencer being afraid of wanting to be with him. He wanted to feel alive again, wanted Sam’s hands on him, Sam’s lips, just… Sam. He didn’t want to wait; the only reason he’d waited before was because none of his previous partners had made him feel like this, and he wasn’t ready to let Sam leave and take this feeling with him.
“I lied,” he said, and Sam’s expression fell, probably thinking Spencer meant they weren’t okay, so he hastened to clarify, “about what happened in the car. We weren’t moving too fast, it was that I… I didn’t want to stop, and that scared me. And I don’t want to stop, not even now.”
“Spencer,” Sam said pleadingly, “I need you to tell me what you mean. Tell me like I’m five years old, simple words and all, please.”
“I want you to come inside,” Spencer said without hesitation, and Sam gaped at him, staring like he’d sprouted an extra head, “I want you to come inside with me, take me to my bedroom and have sex with me until neither one of us can move.” Quickly, he added, “If that’s something you’d want. Is that something you’d want?”
Sam huffed disbelievingly and shook his head, managing to blurt out “What do you think?” before he wrapped Spencer up in his arms, kissing him deeply and backing him into his apartment, kicking the door closed behind them.