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“Luke?”
Spencer hasn’t heard from his boyfriend in almost three days, which is a while for them, given their jobs and the younger brunette’s separation anxiety and he’s tried to give him space, but he hasn’t gotten so much as a text confirming that Luke is alive, so here he is.
“Are you in there?” He pauses, listening for sounds suggesting his boyfriend is in his apartment—their apartment, half the time—swallowing around the lump that’s been growing in his throat since Friday, “I– It’s Spencer, in case you couldn’t tell—Reid, Spencer Re–”
He groans, rubbing his face before restarting.
“Listen, we don’t have to talk about... whatever I did, or at all; I just need to know you’re okay, or at least not dead–”
Spencer stops, hearing the lock click before the door swings open, revealing Luke looking exhausted, more than he has ever seen him, even after countless consecutive cases and long nights.
“Hey, Spence,” His voice is hoarse, eyes bleary and bloodshot, shoulders hunched under an oversized army sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. “Sorry, wasn’t– I didn’t mean to ghost you. I should’ve texted–”
“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.” Luke nods, watching his partner’s gaze glide over him. “Are you– How are you doing?”
The older agent clears his throat, glancing around his partner and down the hall.
“Do you want to come inside?”
“Yeah, sure, as long as you’re comfortable with that–”
He nods, stepping away from the door for Spencer to enter the apartment, the younger brunette closing the door behind him as Luke strays into the living room, picking up a blanket that’s usually on their bed, now on the couch, and folding it.
“Sorry about the mess; I haven’t had the energy to clean.”
He remembers every night he’s woken up without his boyfriend beside him, finding Luke curled up on the couch after a flashback had him feeling unsafe in their bed, frowning because Spencer knows he hasn’t been sleeping.
“It’s okay. Do you want help with anything?”
He wonders how many times Luke considered calling him before convincing himself he could handle it, chest aching, imagining the man he loves struggling alone, too exhausted to take care of himself.
“Don’t you want to talk about what happened?”
“Stop– Spence– Red. Stop–”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”
Luke sighs, draping the folded blanket over the back of the sofa and looking around the messy living room.
“Can– The, uh... the dishwasher is still broken and–”
“Are the dish gloves in the same place?” Luke nods, watching his partner collect a few dirty dishes scattered across the room before disappearing into the kitchen.
Spencer sets to work, cleaning the pile of dirty dishes that have built up in the sink, soaking those that have probably been sitting there since last week, humming as he goes, letting himself get lost in his head.
“Is this okay?”
They had discussed it extensively before, setting boundaries and expectations, making sure both of them were in the right headspace to try something new–
“Yes—green—you’re good. It’s good.”
–and Spencer had spent the past almost 72 hours replaying every second of the night they decided on, a Friday when they were guaranteed the weekend off with no big plans, reviewing his boyfriend’s body language throughout dinner—light and relaxed, excitement buzzing between them without any sign of apprehension—and the motions leading up to it, every move he made, everything he said before–
“Don’t– Please don’t touch me– I have to go–”
“I can hear you thinking from the living room, cariño,” Luke’s voice cuts through his thoughts, the older brunette taking the plate his partner has been drying for a few minutes now out of his hands and setting it on the rack. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear. It wasn’t you.”
“Are you sure? Because I was the one who brought it up, and if you felt pressured–”
“I didn’t, Spence. You didn’t pressure me into anything. I was just as willing and as excited as you were.” Luke sighs, seeing Spencer’s hesitance. “Give me your hands.”
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to be comforting me right now–”
“It’s okay. I want you to see this.”
The younger brunette stares at his boyfriend’s hand, biting his bottom lip for a second before taking off his gloves and placing his hands in Luke’s palms.
“You trust me, yeah?”
“Yeah, of course–”
Spencer freezes as the older man guides his one hand to cup Luke’s cheeks, eye contact unwavering as he slowly moves the second until his thumb rests against his boyfriend’s throat, fingers finding the scar on the side of his neck.
“Luke–”
His eyes widen, remembering the night few nights he has spent holding Luke through nightmares and flashbacks of someone doing the same thing–
“You won’t hurt me, cariño. I’m not afraid.” He adjusts his partner’s hand until two fingers rest against his pulse, feeling the steady, unafraid beats. “Sorry, I should’ve asked, or at least warned you before doing this, but I need you to wrap your genius head around this; you will not hurt me, Spencer. I am not afraid of you.”
“No, it’s okay, I–” Spencer exhales shakily, letting his hands drop. “I’m sorry, I came here to help you–”
“You are helping, cariño; you’re here; that’s all I need.” The younger man looks down, humming doubtfully, and Luke knows he needs to do more to feel helpful. “Will you stay the night? Roxy’s at her sitter’s, and I really just want to get take out and fall asleep watching Doctor Who with you. We have two cartons of ice cream in the freezer, and if you leave, I will eat both of them.”
“How could I say no to an offer like that?” Spencer smiles, leaning in to let Luke kiss him with a smile.
“Mhm... and we have root beer and chocolate sauce in the fridge–”
Spencer cuts him off, cupping his boyfriend’s cheeks, his heart racing as he holds him.
“You–” He kisses him again, grinning giddily. “I love you.”
Spencer Reid is going to marry this man someday.
“I love you too, cariño.”