Work Text:
The one where Spencer cuts his hair
Summer is so close and Margaux’s already feeling the heat. To be fair, the giant windows don’t really help the temperature of the store when it’s been hours of the sun beating down. Or that the sun's staying up until her shift starts now. Unlike in the fall and winter when it’s dark by six in the evening. Margaux’s shifts always start so warm and humid, the electric bill is already skyrocketing and it’s not even July yet.
Not to mention summer is the busy season outside of the holidays. So many students are free for the summer and pinning for activities. She sighs knowing she needs to start planning for that.
She’s fanning herself with a handheld fan when the doors chime open.
“Welcome to the Midnight Owl, let me know if-” She cuts herself off with a loud gasp as she looks at who’s entered.
“Spencer Reid, you cut your hair!” Margaux hurries around the front desk counter to look him over.
Spencer’s face lights up with an embarrassed flush. His hands wring the straps of his worn leather bag.
“It was just getting too hot for the length...” He tries to justify.
“No no no! It looks good! I’m just surprised is all.” She replies with a tease. Her hand twitches and she stops herself from ruffling his hair. His pout was enough to keep her teasing to a minimum.
He scratches the back of his head nervously. Averting his gaze from Margaux’s piercing indigo eyes.
She bites her lip holding back a snicker, she knows he’s probably been teased all day, so she gives him a break. Margaux doesn’t know exactly what Spencer does for his job, but she does know he and his coworkers are close. So, she isn’t surprised that he already feels a little self-conscious. Margaux’s sure they teased him to death.
“It looks great Spencer.” She says softer, “Very handsome.” she smiled in affirmation.
If Spencer wasn’t red before he surely was now. His hands tighten on his satchel bag and his eyes quickly look down before shifting back up at Margaux.
“Thanks.” He murmured quietly.
“You’re drinks on me today; you look like you’ve been teased enough.” she says making her way to the drink counter.
“Thanks, you have no idea...” he replied with a roll of his eyes and a small smile turning his lips.
Spencer looks around and notices the shop is pretty empty tonight, no regulars, just him and Margaux. Not even a random patron perusing the isles. Even the music playing overhead seems quieter than normal. He’s a bit thankful for that.
Margaux’s making his drink, which she is giving him her homemade sweet tea. It’s far too hot for his normal hot coffee. She knows she’s put enough sugar in her tea to satisfy Spencer’s sweet tooth. Plus, she’s not sure he’s ever had traditional sweet tea.
She comes around the corner and hands him a glass as well as one for herself, she looks at Spencer who’s standing in his work clothes, cardigan and all and she makes a mild face of disgust.
“It’s too warm in here for you to be wearing that. It’s gonna be hotter than hell this week and I need a better air conditioner unit.” Her accent seeps through every word and Spencer finds himself smiling into his drink before he can even bother to respond.
“I see your face Spencer, I don’t wanna hear it about my southernisms.” She points an accusing finger at him. “I’m serious about how hot it’s gonna be. These windows make the whole store like a greenhouse!” she mumbles in irritation.
Spencer just finds himself laughing and shaking his head. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just a little ridiculous how the windows are the bane of your existence.”
She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips, “It’s not the windows, it’s summer.” Margaux said the season like it’s personally offended her. Making a blegh noise along with it.
Spencer raises a brow at that, “What did summer ever do to you?” he asked.
She raises a brow, “Listen you grow up in Georgia heat and humidity your whole life and you tell me how you feel about summer. Especially swamp ass, do you know what swamp ass even is Spencer?” she says in a huff.
Spencer snorts and almost spits out his sweet tea. “Excuse me?” his voice pitches in disbelief.
“It’s the foulest experience where you sweat so much it soaks down your back. So, imagine that every summer of your whole childhood.” she states with a face of disgust.
Spencer can only find himself laughing at how intense she is.
“I’m so serious, there’s a reason I moved away from pit of Satan's armpit, okay?” she hisses out in mild annoyance.
“I thought it was so you had better doctors for your dad?” he accuses with a raised brow.
She shrugs nonchalantly and drinks from her tea again, “That too.”
“Come on Margaux, it won’t be that bad. Besides you actively only get the sun in these windows for an hour, maybe two tops. You work the night shift.”
She glares at him, it’s not serious, but Spencer is trying very hard not to laugh. “Go look at the thermostat then and tell me what is says versus what it’s on.” She demands gesturing to the wall behind her.
He rolls his eyes at her dramatics but does as he’s asked. Spencer walks behind her to look over the temperature. “It’s on 78.”
“Yeah? What is it set to Spencer?”
“...68.” he murmurs.
She slams her hands on the counter, “That’s a ten-degree difference! It’s too hot!”
Margaux slides dramatically to the ground and releases a fake sob. “I’m gonna burn up in here, melt like the wicked witch of the west!”
Spencer crosses his arms as he stands above her, “Maybe, have you thought of purchasing a box fan?” he questions.
She looks up at him, her dark blue eyes brimming with fake tears. He’s actually impressed by her commitment to this. She would have been a wonderful stage actress.
“My last one didn’t survive the whole summer, and it only works if I stay behind the counter... Spencer you know I move around too much!” she whines.
“Have you tried changing the unit filter?”
Margaux stops being dramatic and stands up quickly. “I just assumed Josie did... oh my god, I’ve never once looked at the filter.” she murmured.
Margaux excuses herself to go into the back and check the closet. Spencer stays up at the front leaning against the desk, his arms crossed as he just shakes his head in disbelief.
“Oh my good GOD! Eeeewww!!”
Margaux comes bolting back around and grabs her phone, quickly typing out a text message.
“Spencer it’s pitch black I don’t think anyone’s ever changed it!” She looks sick in the face; pale as can be.
“Oh my god, I need to wash my hands, I didn’t even touch it, but Jesus Christ was that disgusting.” she quickly shuffles past him and goes to the bathroom, scrubbing away at her hands.
Spencer spends the next five minutes doubled over laughing at how dramatic Margaux is. Until she makes him go look at the filter. Then he was the one scrubbing away at his own hands in disgust.
He’s at least ninety percent sure he saw a moth staring back at him.
-
It’s July and Margaux is still suffering. While changing the filter of the bookstores AC unit helped, it still didn’t fix the greenhouse problem.
She’s at the front, box fan at her feet, fanning herself with a hand fan, a giant cup of ice water from the cafe area, and she’s reasonably stripped into something comfortable, well, as she can be. Which is a sports tank and running shorts. It’s her store, she doesn’t care about an arbitrary dress code that she doesn’t enforce anyway. Besides, everything that needs to be covered is. She has a massive flannel shirt hanging off the back of her chair, just in case she thinks she needs to be more modest.
The store has been pretty hectic and busy since the summer season started, the events they’ve been hosting were popular. Not to mention the Pride event she threw in June, with a mini pop-up cocktail bar. That weekend it might as well have been almost a club. Not to mention the drag show she helped through, or the drag performers reading for children in the day. Honestly June was festive as ever. Now though, halfway through July, it’s dead inside the store at night. July meant vacations, so all of her locals were at the beach or the mountains. Some even in Europe. So, her nights were uncommonly quiet, well, except for the occasional tourist and Spencer. Which he only visits when he’s free or can’t sleep. Which isn’t as much as Margaux would like, but just because her sleep schedule sucks doesn’t mean she should wish it upon others.
She doesn’t get too much free time to hang out with her friends anymore since co-owning the bookstore, but to be fair most of her friends were her coworkers. Besides that, all her other friends are still in Georgia. She could call them, and try to plan a time to visit, but life is hectic. With the constant doctor’s visits on top of her busy schedule with the shop, it’s rare she has time for herself.
In fact, the last thing she did was go out with her coworkers to go see Eclipse in theaters. Which while, fun, she hasn’t been out for herself in what feels like years. She tries to brush off the too familiar feeling of dread creeping into her head. Her life really revolves around the bookstore and her dad.
It just gets so lonely in the shop from time to time. Margaux reaches for her cell phone and opens the notification from the family group chat. It’s a few photos of the beach from her sister and her boyfriend. Margaux feels the wave of jealousy rising in her throat and pushes her phone away from her. It’s not Bridget’s fault she’s working around the clock, but good lord would she kill for a vacation. Just once, Margaux would like to not spend her waking hours thinking about her dad’s health.
She sighs and leans against the counter, arms dangling over dramatically.
Margaux takes some solace in knowing her sister has at least been with this new guy for about a year now...which means that maybe Margaux should remember his name. John? Jacob? Jackson? That sounded vaguely correct. To be fair her sister rarely kept a man around long enough to remember his name.
Her phone dings again and she doesn’t have it in her to even look. She wants to be at a beach, or really anywhere else. She lifts her head to check the clock and almost cries when she sees it’s not even midnight.
The shop's phone rings, and the noise is so loud it makes Margaux practically jump out of her skin. She quickly picks up the phone, begging for something.
“Hello, this is the Midnight Owl, how can I help you?” her voice chimes happily through the phone.
“I hoped you were working, it’s Spencer.” His voice is soft, almost like he’s whispering.
“Oh! Hey, I thought you were out on a job?” she asked.
He hums in acknowledgement, “I am, I just,” he sighs, “I needed a break.”
“Oh.” She leans casually against the counter. “Trouble in paradise?”
He scoffs, “Something like that. It’s been a long day.” She hears how tired he sounds in his voice.
“When do you come home?”
“Hopefully tomorrow...” he whispers.
“Have you gotten any sleep?” she asks softly. She shifts and moves to stand up a bit straighter, concern written all over her features.
The silence from the other line tells her enough, he hasn’t slept much if at all. “Spencer...” she said his name in a slight disapproval, but her tone is soft at the edges.
“I’ll sleep when I get home.” he tells her firmly.
“Spencer, I’d feel better if you slept now .” she tells him, chastising him like a child.
“Kind of hard with my job.” He jokes.
“You never told me what you do? You see me at my job all the time. Kind of unfair if you ask me.” She teases him.
“You don’t need to worry about it, it’s just stressful and involves a lot of traveling last minute.”
“So vague, but I’ll accept it for now.”
Spencer changes the subject quickly. “Are you reading the book I gave you?”
“Changing the subject I see... but yes, I am. It’s getting me through the very lonely hours. It’s a ghost town in here...” She tells him.
“Is it still hot?”
“ Yes . If my hair wasn’t already short, I’d cut more off. It’s honestly miserable if I leave the safety of the fan. I’ve called someone to come look, it can’t be normal that it’s 80 degrees in here.”
“How soon can someone come out?”
“Not until next week.” Margaux whines. “I’m tempted to just shove myself in the small walk-in freezer we have in the very back...I’m afraid it’ll lock me in though.” she jokes.
Spencer chuckles, “Maybe don’t do that. I’d hate to come back and you’re a popsicle.”
He hears her gasp, “That’s it! We should sell popsicles next week. Spencer, you are a genius!” she exclaims.
“Technically, yes I am.” he teases.
“Shut up, just get home soon. I’m bored outta my mind here. I’m almost done with the massive book you gave me. That’s how bored I am.”
She can almost see him rolling his eyes at her.
“Noted, next time I’ll make sure to send someone to check on you.”
“...Not funny.” Margaux’s pouting. She checks the time; she’s only been talking to Spencer for a little over an hour.
“Where are you this time?” she asked.
“Georgia...ironically enough.”
“Ohhhhhh, south or north? Actually, it doesn’t matter. How is the humidity?" Margaux sounds all too enthusiastic to ask him.
“...Wet.”
She hums, “So I guess you’ve experienced the sweat pouring down your back into your ass crack?”
“...I wouldn’t have phrased it like that, but yes Margaux. It’s been a sweaty week.”
“Sweatin’ like a sinner in church as my daddy would say.” she says in a light playful tone.
“Anyway, besides coffee the only thing I’ve had to drink is sweet tea. Which, while it is good, yours is better.” he admits.
“You’re just trying to butter me up, and it’s working. What do you want?” She asked.
He sighs, “Can’t get anything past you.”
“Think of it as my own older sibling senses, it’s like a mom but better.” she said casually.
“Could you please pick up my mail? I haven’t been in my apartment for a few weeks. I’ve had back-to-back work trips.” he asks tentatively.
She snorts, “Of course I will, your apartments just down the street! What are friends for?”
“I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. You’d do the same for me. I’ll let you know if anything is a pressing matter.”
“You know opening my mail is a federal crime, right?” He jokes.
“Mmmm if you find out I went through it.” she teases.
“Margaux-”
“Relax! I’m just joking. Your mail will be waiting, unopened, when you come back tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I have to go but, goodnight.”
“Night Spencer.”
As Margaux hangs up, she’s left with the overly warm bookstore and the quiet emptiness of it. She still has hours to go, and she can only hope someone comes to ease her boredom. She looks down at the book Spencer lent her and sees the roughly two hundred pages she has left. She picks up her sticky notes and a pen and decides she will finish it before seeing him again. It’s not like she has anything else to do besides sweat.
Margaux really hates summer.
The one about Halloween (part 2 electric boogaloo)
October is by far, one of, if not, Margaux’s favorite month of the year. There’s something about the confirmation of the crisp air letting her know it’s finally that time of year. The leaves changing, the smell of apples, caramel, and pumpkin filling the bakery, it all makes her nostalgic for her childhood.
She has so many memories of running through the backyard leaves with Birdie, carving pumpkins with her daddy and sewing makeshift costumes with her momma. She remembers the year she hand sewed a cat tail onto a ballet leotard and how proud she was that she had done it all by herself. She loved trick-or-treating with her baby sister and dragging her up to houses with scary themes. Bridget always cried but Margaux knew how to make her see the silliness of it all.
The wind reminds her of how she’d parade around the neighborhood with her friends and biking around the cul-de-sac. Her heavy flannel flapping behind her as she could smell the leaves and the rain. She truly misses the biting cold chill air that came with the turn of the season and stores filling up with decorations. How she’d wait all day long for her favorite movie to play on cable during her sleepovers.
She feels herself give a wistful sigh, maybe she just misses the last moments of her family still being close, before it fell apart before her eyes. That last Halloween when she was thirteen was so fun, but it just leaves a weird sour taste in her mouth, like a granny smith apple.
The bitter feeling that she feels creeping up her throat makes her nauseous. She needs a coffee... or a sedative.
Margaux’s just far too busy trying to keep the festive activities alive, to think about her childhood right now. She has a trunk or treat to plan for the neighborhood block. All the small businesses were going to barricade off the road for trick or treaters the night of Halloween. She really needed to think of a theme to decorate the back of the shop's minivan. It offered so much potential, she wanted the theme to be fun but still bookish. Maybe she could do Harry Potter ? It was festive enough and based on a children's book series.
The costume wouldn’t be that hard for her either, she could easily dress as Hermione or any student really. She just needs robes and a wand. Plus, Margaux was pretty crafty, she could easily make props for the car and get some tea lights.
She shoots a text to the group chat of her coworkers who want to participate and lets them know the car theme will be Harry Potter .
It’s a quick choice, but she thinks it’s fitting enough. One that’s easy to dress for too. She definitely has house robes from when her friends from home went during opening weekend. It was a wonderful souvenir gift and belated birthday present that they had chipped in to give her. A wonderful Hufflepuff robe and matching scarf. She wished she could have gone with them, but knowing they were thinking about her was enough.
Margaux tries to come up with something else that needs to be done, any other activity she could focus on for the store. She’s rather keep her mind busy than looking at the sterile walls of the hospital she was in.
Maybe that’s why she was being so nostalgic right now, it was easier to think of a happier time than where she was now.
Margaux looks at the time and groans to herself, she’s been in the waiting room of the doctor’s office for the past hour, and she has no idea how long she’s going to be there.
Her nerves are shot, and her leg is still bouncing nervously. Her dad had finally agreed with his doctors that he needed to be in physical therapy twice a week. This was the first week he’s doing two sessions and Margaux wanted to stay this time. She’s just worried, but she’s always worried.
The sad look the check-in nurse, Susan, gives her every time she comes in fills her with such rage that she had to bite the inside of her cheek not to yell at the woman. Margaux and her daddy didn’t need pity. He was sick, and it was her job to take care of him. They didn’t need pitiful looks. Pity didn’t pay the medical bills and they sure as hell weren’t going to cure her dad.
She plugs her ears with her headphones and opens her iTunes to listen to music. She just needs a distraction. Margaux digs around in her purse and pulls out the new book she was reading, Warm Bodies . Maybe getting lost in this weird retelling of Romeo and Juliet with zombies will help her pass the time. From the parts she’s read she’s found it pretty humorous. A fun little Shakespearean retelling. It was perfect for the spooky season anyway.
Margaux tries to settle into the most uncomfortable chair and begins reading.
She passes another gruelingly long hour that way, reading about R and Julie. Reading about this zombie man slowly regaining his humanity, his sense of self... it’s almost jokingly painful that she wishes love could easily cure her dad as it does R.
She suddenly remembered how much she hates Shakespeare.
-
It’s finally Halloween and Margaux’s manning the van with candy and handing it out to tiny children all dressed in fun colorful costumes. She’s standing there with three of her coworkers, who have decided to be Professor Dumbledor, Professor McGonigal, and the Dark Lord respectively.
The lights on the street are glowing green, orange, and purple. There’s a small fog machine hooked up next to the store’s van, and the speaker from the music store’s booth is blaring the best ambient music. It’s quite a festivity.
As much as Margaux wants to be, she’s not in the best mood. She’s absolutely beaming at the kids and laughing with her coworkers, but she’s been in a bit of a mood. Spencer said he was going to help her, but he had a last-minute work call. She’s trying to not let it be a mood killer, and on the surface it’s believable. She’s a little sad though she isn’t getting to spend it with him. They’ve been talking about spooky and fall themed activities for the past month. Spencer had agreed to spend Halloween with her, since no one he knew seemed to share his enthusiasm for the holiday.
She’s seen hordes of kids come and go all night. Ghosts, cats, vampires, sparkling vampires, and lots of fashionable monsters in bright neon colors. Monster High? She thinks it is what the kids said they were.
Margaux looks down and sees the bottom of their candy bucket and the last few kids going from car to car.
“I got this if you guys want to go home tonight.” She tells her employees.
"You sure? We don’t mind.” her cashier Keri, Professor McGonigal, states.
“I’m positive, I’m just gonna close these doors and lock up for the night. It’s a tomorrow problem to clean up along with the rest of store decorations.” Margaux just shrugs and waves them off.
“Happy Halloween Margaux!”
“This was fun, have a good night!”
“Night Maggie!”
Margaux waves off her three employees and gives the last little trick or treater the rest of the candy in her bowl. The rest of the block is packing up as well.
She shoves the tables and chairs unceremoniously into the back of the van and easily goes to park it behind the store.
That’s a problem for Josie in the morning or Margaux tomorrow night.
Margaux walks in through the back entrance and turns on a few on the front lights. She turns the sign to closed and locks the front door. Her only goal right now is to take down the Halloween decorations so it’s a clean slate in the morning.
She’s on a ladder pulling ghosts from the ceiling when she hears a knock on the glass of the store.
“We are CLOSED !” Margaux shouts, her accent seeping through. She could not bother to be polite for the rest of the night. She just wanted to shower, put on her favorite Halloween movie, Casper, and go to sleep.
There’s another tap at the window, more persistent.
“I said we are closed!” She yanks the ghost hanging from the ceiling and turns to glare at the person through the glass, but all the anger leaves her body.
Spencer stands there, waving at her with a timid smile and pointing at his watch.
Margaux scrambles down from the ladder and throws open the door, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a work call?” she asked in confusion.
“We have tickets for a phantasmagoria show, I wasn’t going to miss that!” He said excitedly, “Are you ready? It starts at ten.”
Margaux just blinks for a moment before she splits into a grin and nodding, “Yeah, yeah, just let me change out of this real quick and we can go.” she said looking down at her Hogwarts robes.
Spencer finally looks at what she’s wearing and gives a small grin, lightly touching her scarf and humming.
“Hufflepuff makes sense.” He murmurs softly.
Margaux feels herself flush before swatting Spencer away and turning to scurry off to change.
Halloween was always her favorite holiday.
The one with migraines
Spencer can’t keep fighting through these migraines. He’s lying on the couch of his apartment in the middle of the day, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to add pressure. He finds no relief.
The doctor was useless, and he genuinely feels irritated and at a loss.
Then he remembers Margaux’s hands softly stroking through his hair. He sits up quickly and calls her.
“Spencer?” Her voice is soft and groggy, she sounded like she just woke up.
“Sorry, were you asleep?” he asked sheepishly.
“It’s okay, I was napping. What’s wrong?” He can hear her shift around, moving blankets probably.
“I, uh,” he suddenly feels embarrassed. Spencer sighs, “I keep having awful migraines. I’m at a loss and I’ve just been irritated because my head won’t stop pounding.”
“Ohhhhhh. Been there before.” She said quietly. “Do you want me to come over? I can do all my tricks. I have like, a ritual if my meds don’t work.” she offered.
“Please.” he finds himself asking her in a small voice.
“Don’t have to ask twice, I’ll be over. Go ahead and boil a tea kettle though- you'll want a warm drink.” She’s more awake now, her voice sounding concerned, “I’ll be there soon.”
Margaux doesn’t live that far away, but it’s still at least a fifteen-minute drive, with no traffic. She makes it over in roughly twenty, and she gives a small tentative knock on his door. When Spencer lets her in, he sees that she’s in her lounge clothes with a hoodie and baggy sweatpants. She’s holding a Walgreens bag that is packed to the brim. Her appearance is a little disheveled, almost as if she was rushing, as her hair is pulled back, her glasses almost falling off her face.
“Go change into something comfortable, you don’t want to be in work clothes with a migraine.” She chastises him and shoos him off to his bedroom.
Spencer holds his hands up in defeat and does as he’s told. Immediately scurrying into his room to change into something more comfortable.
Margaux gets to work while he’s in his room. She closes all of his curtains, blocking out the bright sunlight. She makes her way over to his air conditioning unit and turns it down to a crisp 66 degrees and turns his ceiling fan on. She goes into the kitchen and starts to unpack her Walgreens bag of goodies. She’s brought a few freezable ice packs, an eye mask, and some over the counter pain killers. She brought them just in case, she wasn’t sure if Spencer was someone who preferred medicine or not. She had no problem taking four ibuprofen pills but that was her.
Spencer opens the door and he's in sweats and a T-shirt. He sees Margaux moving around his kitchen with ease, grabbing two mugs and making tea. She has some honey out and pours a healthy amount into each mug. Her brow is furrowed in concentration as she works.
“Go sit on the couch, I’m coming with a mug.” she directs him softly holding two mugs in her hands.
Spencer shuffles his feet over to the couch and plops down shutting his eyes tightly. Margaux presses the warm mug in his hand, setting hers on the coffee table. She moves back to the kitchen to turn off the light and grab a sleep mask and the medicine.
“Drink this, it’ll make you feel better. I turned down your air conditioning and I brought a sleep mask for you, to help block out the light.” she tells him.
He nods and moves to drink the tea, it’s sweet from the honey but it does immediately relieve some pressure, at least mentally.
“I brought some ibuprofen; I take 800 milligrams or take my migraine medication to stop mine. But sometimes you just need really good cold sleep. Mine just make me nauseous, so I need the meds.”
Spencer shakes his head no, “I don’t want to take any pain killers, not right now anyway.” he whispers.
She nods, “That’s okay. Just finish your tea, and then lay down. I’m gonna help you get some sleep okay?”
Spencer nods his head and takes a deep breath drinking from his mug. He feels awful, the pounding in his skull won’t stop.
“Is it always this awful?” he asks her, looking at Margaux with his wide eyes, brows turned down in a sad expression.
She rubs his arm in affection, “Sometimes? Mine are triggered a lot by the weather or sometimes I don’t even know. I do know I’ve gotten optical migraines too, and those suck even more.”
He’s listening to her, but he’s not enjoying the facts. He can read about migraines all day long, but hearing from someone else the same experiences he has sucks.
“When did you start getting them?”
Margaux hums in thought, “When I was thirteen... right before my momma left.”
“Did she get them a lot? You’re mom?” Spencer finishes his cup and sets it down.
Margaux puts a pillow on her lap and pushes Spencer down. She hands him the eye mask to put on. Spencer complies easily and his long legs dangle a little over the edge of the couch, but he’s comfortable. Margaux runs her hands lightly through Spencer’s short hair, like she’s done before in the bookstore. Spencer hums contently.
“She did... Her’s were worse. Always in the bathroom puking from them. She’d have to be in bed all day until it ended.” She whispers.
“Are yours that bad?” Spencer’s voice is just as quiet to match hers. He’s relaxing into her touch, feeling the pressure lighten from his head.
“No, but I get worried sometimes when I get nauseous, yea know? I’m always worried they’re gonna get as bad as mommas did. And I can’t imagine being stuck in bed all day.” she said sadly.
Spencer’s quiet as she mentions her mother. It reminds him of his own fear he’s been trying to avoid thinking about. He’s reminded of his doctor's visit, and it irritates him. He knows there is something happening with him, the way he feels his skull pulsating like his brain is trying to jump out of his body is reason enough.
It’s not psychosomatic. He knows it's not.
“You okay? I just felt you tense up.” Margaux asks him softly.
“Fine, just...thinking.” he mumbles.
She gives a soft chuckle, her soft hands still massaging his scalp gently. “I know it must be hard for you, being a genius and all, but I really need you to shut your brain off. Go to sleep alright?” she demanded gently.
He gives a scoff but tries to settle down. He focuses heavily on Margaux’s hands and how soft she is. The couch starts to melt under him and her quiet hums that he isn’t even sure that she knows she’s doing, finally sending him off to sleep.
When Spencer finally wakes up, his headache is gone. He finally feels back to normal. He moves to remove his eye mask, but he finds the room is almost just as dark. His eyes adjust and he realizes he’s alone on the couch. Where Margaux was is just a pillow and there’s a soft blanket laid over him and he smells something being cooked.
Spencer stretches his body and moves to sit up, looking into the kitchen. Margaux is softly shuffling around. The only light being from the microwave above the stovetop. He can hear the sizzling of whatever she’s cooking, it smells great.
She hears him moving around and turns to send him a smile, “How you feelin’?” she asked, tilting her head trying to assess him.
Spencer stands and makes his way into the kitchen, trying to find out what smells so good. “A lot better. I’ve had that headache for two days.”
Margaux’s brows shot up in surprise, “You should have told me sooner Spencer. I woulda helped.” she chastises him.
“Was away for work, couldn’t.” he informs making his way behind her to peer over her shoulder at the stove top.
“What are you making? It smells great.”
Margaux straightens up a bit with a wide grin. “That would be my favorite comfort food, especially after feelin’ like shit. My very fatty, very southern, biscuits and gravy.” her accent seeps through, as she exaggerates it, trying to prove a point.
Spencer just snorts a laugh and moves back, “Is it almost done?”
She rolls her eyes, “You’ve been awake for less than five minutes and you’re already starving.”
Spencer just ignores her comment looking at the stove top to check the time, it’s later than he imagined. “Is it really nine o clock? Shouldn’t you be at the bookstore?” he presses in concern.
Margaux shakes her head, “I called out; besides, I always work the night shift. Someone else can or we can handle being closed for one night.” She tells him casually.
“You could have left, really, I would have been fine Margaux.” He tries to tell her.
She shakes her head and moves to get the biscuits out of the oven. “Spencer really, it’s not a big deal. You called for help and I’m staying until you shoo me out, I wasn’t just gonna leave without saying anything.”
She shakes her head in mild disbelief and gets to making plates for both of them. Spencer just finds himself standing there gawking at her. She wanted to stay until she knew he was okay. He feels his heart clench at that, and he brushes it away. He doesn’t think he can handle whatever emotion is creeping in at the edges, cracking his carefully crafted foundation.
She gently smacks his hand and nods to his counter. “Go sit down, it’s almost done.”
Spencer does as he’s told and moves to the other side of the counter and takes a seat on one of the stools. It doesn’t take much longer for her to plate the food and slide it across to him. She places one for herself next to him and grabs two glasses of water.
Spencer and Margaux eat in amicable silence enjoying their meal. Then Margaux breaks the silence.
“Have you seen anyone about your recent migraines?” She asked him.
Spencer’s silent as he paused eating. His body tenses up and she wonders if she had hit a sore spot.
“I saw a doctor and got an MRI done.” he said, voice tense.
“I’m guessing you didn’t like the results?” she prods treading cautiously.
“The results were nothing. There was nothing showing up in my brain... the doctor said it was psychosomatic.” he whispered, a bitter tone in his voice.
“Then it probably isn’t anything to worry so much about Spencer.” Margaux said, moving to rub his back gently.
“It can’t be psychosomatic, I’m not- I'm not crazy.” he said firmly.
The tone was the most aggressive she had ever heard from Spencer and her eyebrows raised.
“Spencer, I’m not calling you crazy sweetheart.” She tells him calmly. “Are you, are you worried that you are?”
Spencer’s body is tense, and he covers his face with his hands. “Did you know schizophrenia is hereditary? That it shows up around your late twenties?”
“Oh, oh. ” She realized what his actual problem was now.
“Spencer, the odds of you having it are low. It can run in families but it’s more complicated than that.” She told him in a reassuring voice.
“I know that, but-” he stops himself, not looking at her.
“Spencer,” she said his voice softly and calmly. “It’s okay. You’re okay . I promise.” She continues to rub his back reassuringly. “If you feel this intense about it, then get a second opinion.”
He nods, finally looking up at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She shakes her head, “It’s something you’re worried about and it’s okay to voice that.”
Spencer moves and pulls Margaux into a tight hug.
“Thanks for listening.” he murmured into her hair.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Anytime.” She whispers.
The one after Emily’s funeral
Margaux finds herself outside of Spencer’s door shuffling on her feet. She’s been debating for the past fifteen minutes on whether she should even knock on his door.
She hasn’t seen him in a month... she’s a little more than worried. If it wasn’t for the single word response texts she was getting from him, she’d think he was dead.
The rain pattering on the window of his apartment's hallway is the only background noise she has besides the buzzing of the fluorescents above her. She’s pacing back and forth debating on if this is a good idea or not. He would ask if he needed help right? They were friends... He’s kind of the only real friend she’s made since she came to Virginia. Well, besides Josie.
Margaux takes a deep centering breath and finds her resolve. She knocks on his door.
When Spencer emerges from his apartment, Margaux is taken aback. He only opens the door a crack but it’s enough for her to see the state he’s in. His eyes are dark and rimmed red. He’s in rumpled up sweater and sweatpants. His hair is up in different directions, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Not to mention the faint beard that’s growing in. His eyes find Margaux’s slowly, and he looks a bit taken aback and opens the door more.
“Oh Spencer, honey,” Margaux steps forward and pulls him into a warm hug. She feels him melt into her touch.
“You look awful, what happened?” She’s blunt but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind it, he hasn’t let go to tell her otherwise.
Spencer’s been holed up in his apartment. When he’s not working, he just burrows away. Penelope and JJ have called a few times. Checking in on him. He’s kept those conversations short. He can’t find it in him to talk about Emily with his friends yet. Not when he can still feel the weight of Emily’s casket; it almost bears down on his back in a way that feels crippling.
Spencer’s so tired of losing people.
Elle
Gideon
Emily
How long until he loses the next person?
Margaux’s warm body settles his nerves, and he can feel the irritation that buzzed at the harsh edges of his own soul ease. Spencer knows he looks like a wreck; he feels like one. He’s been in pajamas all weekend and barely has left his couch. When he does find himself getting any sleep, the only image he sees is Emily. Which, if he thinks about it for too long, he’s going to start sobbing again.
“It’s a long story,” He finds himself barely able to say. His voice warbled and tiny.
Margaux somehow always knows when something's wrong, like there is a homing device in her brain that rings letting her know he needs a reprieve.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” She whispers as she rubs soothing circles into his back, “I was coming to check on you, I just hadn’t seen you around in a while.”
“Could you stay here,” he asked her timidly. “Just, just for a little while.”
Spencer feels the fight leave his body; the argument built up that he was ready to unleash on anyone else. The prickles of irritation fog his head, almost turning into a migraine, seem to fade. The only thing left is exhaustion.
Margaux seems to always help him sleep, if he’s lucky, it won’t be another nightmare. He’s having more nightmares than ever. He'd love just a dreamless sleep, anything besides the nightmares, the territory that can with his job.
He finally pulls back away from her and goes inside his apartment.
Margaux follows Spencer looking around his home. It’s dark and surprisingly messy. Not how she’s used to seeing Spencer’s apartment. His books are open and scattered along the floor near his large armchair. There’s empty, or rather half drank, coffee mugs scattered along his bookshelf or coffee table. There’s a large duvet half draped over the couch. She assumes that’s probably where Spencer has spent most of his time, and the pile of laundry she sees resting in the half open laundry room.
It’s a depression cave.
Spencer sluggishly goes into the kitchen and grabs a pot of coffee, before he can pour it Margaux is gently prying it from his hands.
“I think you’ve had plenty of caffeine.” She tells him softly.
He makes a face but doesn’t fight her.
“Go and take a hot shower, I’ll make you some tea alright? It’ll feel better than endless caffeine.” she tells him and gently pushes him out of the kitchen.
Margaux waits for Spencer to disappear into his bedroom before she lets out a sigh and looks around his apartment. She had her work cut out, that was for sure.
She starts by boiling a kettle of water and she starts gathering the mugs from around the apartment. At least the ones in her immediate sight. She gathers at least ten different mugs at various stages full of coffee. She puts them in the sink first before moving on to looking for the chamomile that she knows she’s left here before for when he gets his migraines. She finds it surprisingly quickly and grabs it from the shelf where his coffee sits. She opens it to find there’s only a few tea bags left. He must still be getting those migraines more than he lets on.
She grabs one, and a clean mug from his cabinet and sets it aside. Still waiting for the water to heat up. She moves onto the sink that’s overflowing and rolls up her sleeves to get started. She gives a quick rinse and gently scrubs the dishes before piling them into the dishwasher. By the time she’s done the hot water is ready and the Spencer’s dishwasher is full.
She washes her hands before making a cup of tea for him, making sure she adds plenty of honey to accommodate his sweet tooth.
She’s in the middle of changing out his garbage when she hears Spencer reappear. He shuffles lazily out of his room in new clothes. He’s in a large Doctor Who tee with the Tardis on it, and flannel pajama pants that don’t fully reach his ankles. He’s also put on clean socks, two different ones with silly patterns.
She gives him a smile before handing him the mug of tea. “You look a lot better,” she says with a soft smile.
Spencer just gives a shrug before sipping his tea. She follows him to the couch, and he wraps the duvet around his shoulders, making himself look so much smaller for a man that towered over her with his height.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him.
Spencer sighs and looks deep into his cup, like the tea would give him answers. Maybe if he believed in reading tea leaves and fortunes, but he wasn’t religious or superstitious by any means.
“I lost a close friend, and it just...it’s been tough.” he tells her.
“Oh Spencer,” she leans forward and holds one of his hands, “I’m so sorry. That- that can’t be easy.”
He’s cried so much; he would think he didn’t have any more tears left. The blurry vision foggy up the edges of his sight tells otherwise.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye...” he whispers out, trying to not sob again.
Margaux takes a deep breath, she gives Spencer a sad look before she whispered, “Sometimes we don’t get to say goodbye.” She replied quietly.
“I’m so tired of people leaving with no warning-” he catches himself before he can finish, biting his tongue.
Margaux doesn’t pry, just let’s him go through the motions, trying to comfort him how she can.
“I’m sorry Spencer.”
Spencer leans against Margaux and closes his eyes, “I hate change.” he murmured.
She moves her hand up to run through his hair gently, like she has before.
“I don’t either.” she whispered.
Spencer grows quiet as Margaux continues to stroke his hair. She hears his breathing finally settle and she knows he’s asleep. She gently moves to lay him down on the couch and goes to work.
Spencer’s home needed a deep clean, something to make it at least more bearable to come home to so he’s not so overwhelmed.
She starts with the laundry and works her way around the room as the washer and dryer run through load after load of clothes. The only spot she doesn’t feel comfortable touching is his books. That seemed like an organized chaos situation if she’s ever seen one.
Spencer sleeps for hours, so long that Margaux finds herself dozing off after she’s done cleaning. She slides herself back onto the couch and curls up in the corner. She’s just going to close her eyes for a moment, she won’t spend the night.
She dreams of coffee, book pages, and a familiar purple scarf that makes its way in too.
The morning sun comes in through a small opening of Spencer’s curtains and washes over the couch, bathing Margaux and Spencer in its light. The two are curled into each other under the duvet on the couch and if either of them woke up at any point in the night and curled closer to the other, they would never know.