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Spencer gets home 30 minutes early.
“Luke?”
The genius could tell you exactly how many minutes early—probably seconds too—he is, considering how much paperwork he has and factoring in the subway’s standard deviation to provide a more accurate projected arrival time, but for Luke, he’s 30 minutes early.
”Luke? Are you home?“
The first thing he notices is the silence—the lack of sound, no Roxy waiting by the door, tail wagging, waiting for Spencer to drop his bag to greet him–his hand instinctively moving to his hip, fingers finding the familiar weight of his gun.
“Roxy?”
His skin crawls as he creeps through the still apartment, gun drawn as he turns the corner to their bedroom–
“Woah, cariño! Spence!” Luke puts his hands up quickly, Spencer’s shoulders sagging with a sigh when he sees his boyfriend.
“Luke! Jeez, you scared me; why weren’t you answering? And where’s Roxy–”
He stops, shoving his gun in its holster, mouth going dry as his eyes land on a packed duffle bag sitting on their bed, his heart suddenly hammering against his chest, rib cage restricting his lungs.
“You’re leaving?”
He looks up, eyes wide and wet, watching his boyfriend stagger over his words silently, looking for the right thing to say.
“It’s not like that–”
“Where’s Roxy?”
Luke pauses, taken aback by the sudden topic shift, swallowing his anxiety before speaking.
“She’s at her sitters.”
“Why?”
The two agents stand, staring, studying each other, searching their carefully guarded souls, Spencer’s shoulders raised and shaking while Luke’s stance is relaxed, shocked, still processing his partner catching him.
“So you don’t have to worry about taking care of her while I’m away.”
Spencer’s jaw tightens, folding his fingers into fists to keep them from trembling, nails digging into his palms, watching his boyfriend for another minute before turning around and storming out of the room.
“Spencer–”
“What, were you just going to leave before I got home? Disappear without a trace? Abandon me? ”
“I’m coming back–”
“When?”
He stops, the two of them standing in their living room, surrounded by little pieces of their life together—Spencer’s books and figurines filling the gaps on Luke’s shelves, pictures of them on birthdays, cases, days off, taking Roxy to the park–
“As soon as I can.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Spencer, I’m sorry –”
“That’s not good enough, Luke. Why aren’t I good enough for you to stay?”
Luke signs, stepping forward, arms outstretched, desperate to hold his partner, frowning when Spencer steps back.
“It’s not that, cariño; it’s not you, I promise–”
“Then what? What is it? Why can’t you stay?”
“I’m trying to protect you–”
“I don’t need protection, Luke! I just need you!” Spencer shouts, a sob slipping past his lips, resignation– desperation setting in. “Please, Luke; you said you’d never leave me; you promised –”
“I’m not leaving you, Spence–”
“–you lied to me–”
“Spencer–”
“You know who else left to protect someone? Emily, and she died, Hotch, and he never came back, Derek–”
“Spence, please just listen–”
“Give me the letter.”
Luke freezes, frowning, brows furrowed.
“What?”
“You were going to leave before I got home, but you wouldn’t disappear without saying something, without explaining yourself. Where’s the letter, Luke?”
The older agent stares at his partner for another second before sighing, disappearing into their bedroom for a minute before returning with a white envelope, Spencer’s name neatly written on the front.
“That’s it? You were just going to leave me with another note? Just like Gideon and my dad–”
“No, Spencer, let me– Look,” Luke reaches into his pocket, producing an old burner phone. “You can talk to me on that–”
“Seriously? This is all I get?”
“I will keep you updated, and I’ll try to text you at least once a day–”
“Luke–”
“–and I’m sorry, Spence–”
“Luke, please–”
“–but I’m coming back–”
“Go.”
Both men freeze, staring at each other, jaws clenched and eyes wide, silently pleading for forgiveness and understanding or to stay –
“I’ll be here.”
He always is—waiting, the one that’s left behind.
“Go.”