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12 and a half hours.
That's how long it had been since he picked up the phone. In 12 and a half hours, so much had happened. 80% of all hostages worldwide will survive in one way or another. Sure, they'd need time to heal, and things would certainly never be the same for them, but the odds were in their favour. However, the moment Spencer heard the word "zugzwang" being muttered from the person on the other end of the line, those statistics went out the window. The odds had been scrambled. Diane's end game was suicide- she didn't care about getting out of her situation. To put it simply, the odds were in anything but their favour. The best case scenario was that one of them might walk out of the loft.
10 hours.
That was how long it had taken for the team to figure out where Maeve was. Subsequently, that was how long Spencer had to slowly become less and less sane, his subconscious focusing on the 6 months of communication between them. 100 days. Would that be all the time they had together?
Finally, after an hour of trying to talk Diane down, he was able to walk out of the flat hand-in-hand with Maeve; both alive and breathing. Their time had been short, only having had the opportunity to briefly express their love, gratitude, and concern for on another before making their way to the ambulances, but it was more than enough time for both of them to know, if they had any doubts at all, that they were meant to be. They didn't say goodbye, rather, Spencer had left with a gentle kiss against Maeve's hand; a small gesture to say "until later".
One and a half hours later, and Spencer was knocking on the door frame of Maeve's hospital room, fulfilling the unspoken promise that they'd be together again soon. He was clad in only mix-match socks and a hospital gown, which hung awkwardly from his shoulders and draped to just below his knees, covering his lithe frame. Maeve was dressed similarly, but she certainly appeared better in the gown than Spencer did.
"Well, that's sure... a look ," Maeve laughed, commenting on the awkwardness of his outfit.
Spencer tugged at the side a little, gathering all the extra fabric in his hand to demonstrate just how poorly it fit. "You're telling me," he replied, the same chuckle in his voice. "May I sit?"
The brunette nodded as Spencer had motioned to the bed, scooting over to make room for her lover. They both smiled at each other, words of adoration being left unsaid. Speaking them would be redundant, really. The looks in their eyes told each other more than words ever could.
Spencer was the first to break the silence. "I hope you don't mind me asking about this, but when we talked to your parents, your mom mentioned that you were working on a cancer treatment together?" Maeve nodded. "That's incredible. I don't think I'd even know where to start with that." And so, this statement prompted a lengthy conversation, Maeve explaining the different approaches to curing cancer, and how each depended on the genetic material of the cells. Eventually, after swapping facts that might help further their research, their conversation fell to a lull. The silence was comfortable; expected, even. Though some time has passed, both were still in awe- shock, even- that they were able to simply be . Be alive, be together, and be in love.
There was a moment where Spencer glanced away shyly, breaking the eye contact they'd held for longer than any one had bothered to keep track of, blush quickly blossoming across his cheeks as he looked back. "What's wrong?" Maeve wondered, her attempt in reading his eyes unsuccessful.
"I- um, it's nothing, really." Spencer said, as awkward as ever.
Maeve continued to pry ever so slightly. "I won't judge, I promise. Anything you say to me stays with me."
He glanced back up, eyes searching her face, wondering; searching for an answer. He carefully considered the possibilities- the worst that could happen was that she'd say no and maybe think he was weird, but that would be the worst. "You're uh, you're gorgeous," he stated, bringing a soft smile to her face, "And I got the urge to kiss you." His words were sped this time, tripping over his own tongue to speak.
Maeve offered a soft smile, finding her lovers words sweet no matter how awkward they'd been. "Do you still want to?"
"Yes, but um, if you don't want to, that's totally fine. It's um-"
"Spencer," she cut him off, leaning a little closer, faces mere inches apart. "I want you," Maeve whispered. Spencer leaned into the touch as she placed her hand on his shoulder, enjoying the contact. He felt himself move closer before hesitating. It had been so long since he'd kissed anyone, he couldn't even recall where to begin. In a small burst of confidence, his lips met hers. Though passionate, there was no doubt that it was timid, their kiss being short and sweet until Spencer separated his lips from hers. They stayed close, keeping so little room that their lips brushed together when they smiled until they met again, both indulging in a kiss far less chaste than the last. Spencer's hands tangled through brunette locks while Maeve's moved from where they'd been cupping his cheek to trace along his back before pulling him closer, allowing for him to deepen the kiss if he so desired. When they parted this time, Maeve couldn't help but chuckle. It was a little awkward, sure, but the giddy smiles that decorated both of their faces spoke to how much the moment had meant to both of them. Their lips met a last time, more desperate after testing the waters, but they took their time, savouring every second they could. Everything from the way she gently bit at his bottom lip to the short, light brushes of his tongue against hers were committed to memory, as well as the hums the other let out and the blissful feelings each little motion provided. This wasn't like before, where their only encounters were timed and perfectly planned. Slowly, they parted, holding each others gaze, knowing that they finally had all the time in the world together.