Chapter Text
You realized a long time ago that these men - the kind that are getting what they deserve - don't understand why you're killing them.
A lot of the time, they beg you not to do it, to stop, but most of those pleas fall on deaf ears. Sometimes, they try to explain that she deserved it - those ones underestimate you.
Thankfully, when Spencer calls you, the man is already dead.
"Hi," You say, gently attempting to tug the pocket-knife out of the man's throat.
"Hi," Spencer replies, "Where are you right now?"
You glance around the dirty Philadelphia apartment. "...Philly?"
Spencer makes a disappointed noise. "Oh."
You stare at the dead body for a moment, debating how long it would take you to clean up, before replying. "Miss me?"
"I mean-" Spencer clears his throat. "I was, um, just thinking we could go on another date. Soon."
"Soon?" You ask, walking into the small, even dirtier bathroom and turning on the sink. You push the knife underneath the faucet. "What do you mean by soon?"
"Like, um…" he pauses for a moment and you hear the ruffling of papers. "Wednesday?"
You hum - It's Sunday right now, that's more than enough time. "That's good with me. How about you take me up on the offer of a home cooked meal?"
You wipe the knife off with a biodegradable tissue and close it.
"Uh, yeah, I'd really like that," Spencer replies. "Can I have your name yet?"
"Nope." You hang up.
-
Wednesday couldn't come quick enough. In preparation for Spencer, you cleaned your entire apartment, perfected your recipe, and bought a very nice smelling candle.
You've just finished cooking when Spencer buzzes in, clean-shaven and cute.
"Hi," You say, kissing his cheek and letting him in. Spencer smiles shyly at you and both of his hands go to the strap of his messenger bag. "Here, let me take that?"
He willingly hands it over and you set it on the coffee table before leading him into the kitchen.
"Here, sit down," You say, pointing toward the dining table. Spencer glances at it then back at you.
"Are you sure? I can help."
You shake your head, but smile. "Thank you, but don't worry about it. The food's done already."
Spencer nods and sits down while you go back into the kitchen and grab the prepared plates of food.
Dinner is a quick, concise occurrence. You both eat with only occasional words shared in between you and it's - comforting. To know that you can enjoy each other's presence without words.
When you're finished, and he's helping you do the dishes, he finally speaks, and you can tell it's something that's been weighing on his mind.
"Um, so…" Spencer sets down the dish he was drying and runs a hand through his hair. "I-I know we've spoken about this before, but I just… I really feel like we should talk about my work."
You tilt your head, setting down your own dish. "What do you mean?"
"Well, with my job, we travel a lot - I know I've already told you this, but I need you to understand that… my job means a lot to me." Spencer visibly takes a deep breath, as if prepared for you to be upset with him. "I'm not willing to quit it. At least not for a very long time. And I do understand that you wouldn't want to be with someone like that. Who can't be around a lot. My job is my priority, and it's - I completely accept if you're not okay with that."
Spencer avoids your eyes. His hands tense, relax, then he clenches them together.
"Spencer," you say, softly. He looks up at you - you've never seen someone who more definitively represents the term 'puppy-dog eyes' - and it nearly breaks your heart because this has to be a conversation he's had before, with past partners.
You didn't need Spencer to tell you for you to know that the B.A.U always will come first for him. You've come to terms with that, because you consider your work in the same way.
At his lecture, Spencer had said that the B.A.U knew serial killers at an intimate level. That they understood them more than anyone else.
Spencer would understand why you need to do what you do.
That's part of what drew you to Spencer in the first place. The fact that he could understand you. He might not agree with you, or how you go about what you do, but he'd understand.
"Spencer," you say again, trying to get the words right. You take his hand. "I understand. My job comes first for me too. It's my passion. Just like the B.A.U is yours."
Spencer nods. His face relaxes slightly at your words, and he picks up a new dish. Gently, you pull it from his hand and set it down.
"You've been pretty stressed about this," you state. Spencer nods again. "You know, I'm pretty good at shoulder massages. I've heard they're a great destressor."
Spencers laughs, clearly baffled by your offer. "You don't have to do that."
"No, it's fine, I like doing it," you say, "Here. Come with me to the couch."
Hesitantly, Spencer follows you. He sits on the couch and you move to stand behind him.
"Are you okay taking your shirt off? Not all the way, just off your shoulders."
Spencer turns his head to look at you and shrugs. "Yeah, that's fine."
Spencer unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders, revealing his skin to you.
Slowly, you put your hands on his shoulders. His skin is soft and warm against yours, and you try not to count the freckles on his shoulders.
For the most part, he's quiet. Spencer's shoulders slowly relax the longer you touch him, until he's putty in your hands.
You lean forward and press a small kiss to the nape of his neck, and it's against his skin that you tell him your name.
"What?" He asks, surprised. You laugh and pull away before repeating yourself. Spencer turns his head to look at you, lips curled into a grin.
You wink at him and bend down to kiss him. Immediately, his hands come to your head, thumbs pressed against your cheekbones. He pulls you down farther into the kiss, until you inevitably attempt to add tongue.
Spencer pulls away, face flushed and lips wet and red. He stares at you, eyes brimming with excitement, and yet he also looks apologetic.
"Now yet?" You ask. Spencer shakes his head.
"No, I'm sorry - I'm new to all of this, and-"
"You don't have to apologize." You smile softly at him. "We can go as slow or as fast as you want, Spencer."
Spencer relaxes, nodding his head. "Okay. Thank you."
"Of course," you reply. "Even if it never happens, that's fine. You don't have to pretend for me."
"No, no, it's - it's not that. I want to. But I'm not…. Ready to?" Spencer's eyebrows furrow. "I can't explain it."
"That's okay," you say, reaching a hand up to gently tug it through his soft hair. "You don't have to explain why you're not ready. I understand. Take as long as you need."
Spencer's eyes close as he concentrates on your hand. He leans into the touch, sighing softly. You kiss his forehead before pulling away completely.
"Are you ready for cuddling, though? Because I'm totally down for that."
-
Spencer spends the night. You don't do anything, because he isn't ready, but just being in his presence is enough for you.
He'd apparently prepared ahead in case he spent the night - he blushes and explains that he wasn't expecting anything and you have to remind him that he's the one who stopped you both from going further. (Not that you're complaining, but he really needs to think better of himself.)
It's awkward at first, when you lie down. You're facing each other and just a few inches apart. You can feel his breath on your face and it's kind of uncomfortable.
You sigh after five minutes. "Alright, come here," you say, opening your arms.
Spencer is unsure for a moment before he shuffles forward. He wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his head into your neck. His whole body curls into your arms. It's kind of adorable how he's so receptive to your touch.
You chuckle quietly and wrap your arms around his neck. You set your chin on top of his head. His breath is gentle against your neck, and it's comforting rather than ticklish.
You fall asleep faster than you have in years. You're pretty sure Spencer does too.
-
Alarms are very rude awakenings when you don't expect them. Especially when said alarms are phones ringing at six in the morning, and when the owner of said phone jumps out of his skin at the sound then rushes to grab it.
"Hello?" Spencer says, voice hoarse. You want to glare at him for waking you up but he has a little red spot on the side of his face, and his hair's a mess, and you think it would be a crime to yell at something so adorable. "Okay. I'll be there soon."
Spencer hangs up the phone and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and looks at you. "Work," he says.
"Okay," you say. You lean forward and kiss his cheek. "I understand. Go ahead and use my shower if you have time."
Spencer purses his lips and smiles before crawling out the bed. He grabs his bag before running into the bathroom. The shower is on not long after.
Spencer kisses you goodbye. You miss the warmth of his body against you, but manage to get back to sleep, somehow.
-
For once, you call Spencer first. You miss seeing him, plus you've been pretty bored recently.
You set up to meet at the bowling alley from your first date. It turns out Spencer has grown to enjoy bowling, which isn't that surprising, even if he sucks at it.
You meet Spencer outside and the first thing he does is kiss you. It's only a peck, but it makes your insides light up like fireworks because you know he doesn't initiate touch that often.
When he pulls away he clasps his hands awkwardly in front of himself and says, "Hi."
"Hi," you say back giddily.
You make your way inside and Spencer gets both of your bowling shoes while you pay - he had last time, so it was only fair.
However, instead of bowling like last time, you have a different idea. You grab his hand and tug him toward the back of the building, where a small, empty arcade sits.
Most of the machines are blaring retro music - the few that aren't are broken. Blacklights flicker on the ceiling and light up a dirty carpet.
It isn't the nicest arcade you've ever been in, but it's private.
"Wow," Spencer says, chuckling. "I haven't been in an arcade since I was a kid."
He runs his finger along the dusty dashboard of a broken Pac-Man game and grimaces when his finger comes back dirty.
You whistle. "Live a little, Spencer. Sometimes the best coping mechanism for life is a shitty arcade game." You take his hand and wipe his finger off on your shirt.
"I can't really play arcade games. It's why I stopped coming to arcades; once you figure out the patterns, it gets boring."
You scoff out a laugh. "Only you would do that. However, luckily, there are games that are purely skill and luck."
You point toward the very back of the arcade where a KISS pinball machine is lit up. It's the only thing that seems to work in that part of the arcade, and the lights on the side cast a lonely glow on the other broken machines.
Spencer laughs. "Pinball?"
You nod. "Pinball. We'll make it a competition, since you're so good at arcade games."
"Well, what do I get if I win?" Spencer asks. He's being completely serious, but it could be flirting if you reach.
You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. "What makes you think you'll win?"
That seems to bring out his competitive side. He grins at you and starts walking over to the machine. You follow, only a few steps behind, digging in your pockets for the quarters you brought.
You push one into the machine and say, "You first."
Spencer glares at you and slaps his hands on the sides of the game, pressing the buttons and keeping the ball up.
It doesn't take long for him to win - a tinny version of Rock and Roll All Night plays loudly from the game's speakers.
Spencer grins at you. His face is lit up by the golden light of the game's screen and he looks so cute. Sadly, you have to beat him, but if you didn't you would totally be kissing him right now.
You hip check him out of the way and slide another coin in. The game restarts and you move to keep the ball safe. However, sadly, you lose, and the ball drops into the bottom with a disappointing ding.
The game powers down with a loud YOU LOSE from what should be Gene Simmons but sounds more like Adam Sandler.
You glare at the screen and turn to Spencer. "One more round."
Spencer laughs, but takes your place in front of the game. "I didn't peg you for a sore loser."
You don't grant that a response. Once again, Spencer wins, except this time you don't force him out of the way.
Instead, you move behind him and grab his arms, flipping him so he faces you.
"What…?" He stutters, face flushing a wonderful tone of red as you push your body against his.
You enter another coin, and with your hands moved to the buttons Spencer is trapped.
"Kiss me," you say. Spencer doesn't hesitate. He leans down and devours you into a kiss, hands gripping your hair like a lifeline.
He makes a noise, soft and sweet, when you press your tongue to his lips. Hesitantly he lets you in and you're granted access to his mouth. You press your tongue against his and he makes a louder noise, tilting his head into the kiss.
Just as he's moved closer, tongue starting to move against yours, the game interrupts you with a loud guitar strum and the same Adam-Gene voice screaming, YOU ROCK!
Spencer pulls away with a wet smack and turns his head to look at the game. He gapes, seeing your score had beat his, and then turns back to you.
"You hustled me!" He says, gobsmacked. You laugh and pull away.
"No, I won. It just so happens I play better when I'm distracted."
Spencer shakes his head, but a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. "I guess you did win. So, what's your prize?"
You're both grinning when you push him back up against the machine. "I already got it."