Spencer's shoulders automatically hunched up when the door slammed violently. The logical part of his mind knew that it was a long ingrained part of his DNA that made him do this. Simply an innate reaction to a loud noise – possible danger – that made his body move to protect his neck.
Of course there was another part of his brain that thought maybe it was because his brain now associated loud noises with pain; a theory that only solidified itself when he heard the angry roar of John's Chevy nova peeling away from the curb below his apartment, causing him to grimace.
It was only after the sound of the muscle car's engine had disappeared that Spencer's own muscles finally relaxed and the adrenaline left his body, leaving him feeling incredibly tired. He listlessly gazed around his apartment, noting the overturned coffee table and the shards of broken glass by the door, the jagged pieces glittering in the orange glow from outside the nearby window.
He felt tears prickling at his eyes but stubbornly refused to let them fall. He'd shed enough tears because of John in the last twenty four hours and now that he was finally gone, Spencer was reluctant to give him any more power in his absence.
A cool breeze blew in through the open window next to the TV, fluttering the thin white curtains framing the glass and effectively snapping Spencer out of his daze. With a sharp sigh through his nose, the young genius went to grab the broom out of the pantry in the kitchen and made short work of sweeping up the glass on the floor and dumping it in the garbage.
When he righted the coffee table and looked around he was satisfied to realize that the room looked just as it had before his boyfriend had had his little temper tantrum.
But despite this return to normalcy, Spencer was still left feeling shaken and jittery; his muscles felt tight and sore like they did after a run on the treadmill at work and a headache was building behind his eyes like it had every intention of becoming a migraine and, with another sigh, he realized that sleep would not be forthcoming tonight.
He glanced over at the digital clock on his VCR. 10:39. Not that it mattered how late it was; Spencer knew every twenty four hour establishment that sold food within a hundred mile radius.
This was far from his first time needing a distraction when he should be sleeping.
With practiced movements and shaking hands, Spencer pulled on his jacket, grabbed his keys, phone and wallet and left the apartment, taking special care to close his door softly so as not to disrupt his neighbours.
He cringed when he realized John's departure had likely woken up the whole building anyway.
When he glanced up at the sky it was easy to tell a pretty big storm was on it's way. The orange street lights were reflecting brightly off the low hanging cloud ceiling; the dark canopy was a shifting mass of engorged clouds just waiting to break open.
He made it to the cafe just as the first fat drops started falling and ducked inside the double doors with relief. At least one thing had gone right today.
Spencer took a moment to glance around the small cafe, feeling some of the tension leave him just by being in such a familiar and comforting place. Kramerbooks Cafe was a safe haven. Open twenty four hours a day, the little coffee shop doubled as a used book store and sometimes Spencer thought that if he actually took a moment to do the calculations, it was very likely that he spent more time here than in his own apartment and, as he tossed his jacket over the back of his favourite chair, the genius realized with a jolt that, thanks to John, he now felt safer here than he did in his own home.
"Pathetic." He muttered to himself, his slim shoulders slumping dejectedly.
He wondered for the thousandth time how he'd allowed himself to get involved in such a relationship and, as with every other time, he came up blank. There was no defining moment, no abrupt shift in John's personality, no life altering event – that he knew of – that would suddenly make his boyfriend of almost six months suddenly become this violent man with a hair-trigger temper.
It had been gradual. So gradual that even Spencer, a supposed genius who got paid to notice human behaviour, hadn't realized what was going on.
He offered the tired looking lady behind the counter a half smile – it was all he could muster – and she offered him one in return when he gave his order.
John hadn't hit him, Spencer reasoned. He'd never laid a hand on him in violence or anger. But Spencer wasn't stupid enough to think that it may never happen. He knew the statistics and had heard stories from the mouths of domestic abuse victims so many times it was hard for even him to keep track.
Their stories were all similar to his.
In the beginning, when they'd met, John had been such a gentleman. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, to the point where it had bordered on ridiculous and Spencer had wondered if he'd somehow jumped right out of the 1800's. After some time had passed, as with any relationship, they grew more comfortable with one another and the little gestured seemed to fall away. They'd get in little spats and have arguments but each time they did John seemed to get more and more...
Spencer's train of through trailed off when he was handed a steaming mug of coffee and he clutched it to his chest to shuffled back over to his chair, concentrating hard on not letting any of the precious liquid spill over the edges of the porcelain cup.
Once he was settled in his chair by the window, Spencer tried to find the word he'd been looking for to describe John's gradual descent into an emotionally and verbally abusive boyfriend. But just as before he came up empty handed; there was simply no one word to described or explain what had happened.
He knew he should tell someone. Things were going south quickly and the longer he waited the closer he came to-
His cellphone rang shrilly and he quickly set his mug down, sloshing some of the scalding liquid on to his hand.
"Sorry." He muttered through a wince to the old man sitting across the room. He glared over the rim of his glasses, a pile of books open in his lap, until Spencer finally got his phone out of his jacket pocket and answered the call.
"Hello?" He said, sounding snappy and a little breathless after wrestling with his jacket.
"Reid? You ok? You sound out of breath." Morgan's voice dripped with suggestion and Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Fine. What do you want?"
Suddenly Garcia's voice came over the speaker. "We're going out for drinks, boy wonder. Come with us!"
The thought of going out and socializing in a crowded bar after the day he'd had actually made Spencer's stomach roll unpleasantly.
"Uh, no thanks." He muttered, getting up to peruse the bookshelf. The shelves had been built right into the wall and went from floor to ceiling, the old wooden planks nearly groaning under the weight of so many books stuffed between them.
"Aw, come on, man!" Morgan cajoled.
"No, thank you. I'm just going to...read."
"Yeah, cause' you never do that." Morgan drawled.
A spike of irritation nearly made him just snap at his friend to leave him the hell alone but he squashed it down. It wasn't Derek's fault that he had relationship problems. Instead he just sighed, wondering what would be the quickest way to get Morgan to leave him be.
"Come on, Reid, you never come out with us anymore." Said the other agent, sounding sincere now. "We'll even come get you. Where are you now?"
Spencer frowned, thinking that rather an odd question to ask. "I'm at my apartment." He answered.
There was a beat of silence and then Morgan spoke again and something in his voice caused Spencer's gut to clench.
"Oh...er, right. Well, maybe next time then."
'He knows.' Thought Spencer, his heart pounding in his chest. 'He knows I'm lying.'
"I'll see you at work then?"
Morgan's voice still sounded strange but in his panic, Spencer was unable to decipher the emotion behind the other man's tone. When he realized several seconds had passed and he hadn't answered, it was all he could do to squeeze out a, "Yeah. See you at work." and just hope it sounded as normal as possible.
He hung up abruptly and tossed the phone on to the little table beside his chair, staring down at it with wide eyes, irrationally worried that it would ring again any second and Morgan would start grilling him, anger twisting his words while he demanded to know why Spencer had turned him down.
Then he shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Morgan was not John.
He grabbed a random book off the shelf – honestly it didn't matter, he was just going to stare at the first page without reading anything anyway – and fell back into his chair, settling down for what was sure to be a long night.
Spencer was not surprised when he didn't hear from John for several days. It wasn't unusual, after one of his rages, for him to drop off the grid for a few days to cool down and when he eventually called or showed up at Spencer's apartment he was all whispered apologies and tender touches.
It was getting old though, this pattern of theirs, and Spencer found himself more and more reluctant to let the man back into his home and heart. He would never say that he loved John... because he didn't. But to say he didn't care a great deal about him, after all this time, would be an absolute lie and for some reason the genius had yet to figure out he always found his resolve crumbling under the weight of those puppy dog eyes every time.
If nothing else their make-up sex was usually pretty spectacular and at the mere thought of the last time they'd been together Spencer felt heat rising in his face and pooling in his belly.
Though it said a lot about their relationship that the last time they'd had sex was because they'd just had a horrendous fight.
They hadn't touched each other since. Not even a kiss.
The thought was sobering and the soft smile slid off Spencer's face.
One day soon he really needed to sit down and re-evaluate if this relationship was worth saving. Though it made little difference what he thought about it if John didn't feel the same way. And trying to get John to talk about his feelings or thoughts was what had caused their last little lovers spat. He glanced into the living room at his coffee table sitting innocently in front of the couch, remembering how John had flipped it over in a rage before hurling his glass of water at the wall.
Pushing the troubling thoughts of his lover away took real effort, but Spencer managed to get John out of his head, grab his travel mug and head out the door to work, hoping that the train didn't still have that weird smell that had permeated all the cars on Friday.
The bullpen was, blessedly, quiet when Spencer walked through the doors. It was Monday morning, so sluggish employees quietly shuffling from their desk to the coffee machine and back again was about all one could expect for the day's work output.
"Heya, Pretty Boy." Morgan greeted him, his customary warmth overshadowed somewhat by the man's eyes raking over Spencer's appearance.
Spencer had expected this. After all, he'd lied when Morgan had asked him an innocent question...which somehow made it worse. A little suspicion on the other agent's end was understandable, though he did wonder what it was Morgan was looking for when his eyes traveled over him, stopping fleetingly on key points of his person. His face, his neck and his hands, looking for obvious things that might be out of place.
Spencer smiled easily, brushing past the elder agent and sitting down at his desk.
"Everything ok?" Morgan asked, sitting down at his own desk. He pulled some files out of his tray but his dark eyes remained fixed on Spencer.
"Fine. Why do you ask?" He tried his best to make sure he sounded casual and politely confused as to why Derek wouldn't think everything was fine.
Morgan shrugged, acting overly casual himself. "Well. You've been here for five minutes and haven't told me a single useless fact or statistic."
Spencer felt himself bristle, unsure if the comment was meant as an insult to try and jar him into confessing something or was just Morgan being Morgan. He looked over at the other man and saw nothing in his expression or body language that suggested bad intentions, but before he could say anything, Derek continued.
"Actually it kind of seems like your acting different lately."
The team didn't know that Spencer had a boyfriend and he intended to keep it that way. Good-natured teasing became irritating very quickly and besides, if any of them knew about John, they would eventually find out that their relationship was less than ideal and that was just something Spencer couldn't even think of dealing with.
His non-committal shrug and refusal to make eye contact likely wasn't the reassuring conversation Morgan had been looking for but at the very least it seemed to get the message across that the young genius was in no mood to share.
Most of the day passed in relative silence and if the atmosphere seemed a little tense to anyone else, they didn't mention it. The few times Reid and Morgan spoke, the words felt forced and it was obvious that by talking less Spencer had somehow managed to further Morgan's suspicion.
Whatever it was that Morgan was suspicious about.
Around four in the afternoon, Spencer decided that Morgan could think whatever he wanted and stood to get yet another cup of coffee to push him through the last hour of the day.
When he got back to his desk, his stomach lurched uncomfortably when he glanced at his phone and saw that he had one missed call from John. It was the first attempt the man had made at contacting him since Saturday – Spencer had learned several fights ago that contacting John first was not a good idea - and Spencer hadn't picked up.
He set his coffee down, convincing himself that his hands were not sweating, and picked up his phone.
He'd only called a few minutes ago, so it was unlikely that he'd be angry yet, so long as Spencer called him back quickly.
It took him a minute to unlock his phone. His hands were shaking a little and he decided that after the call was over he should probably throw out his coffee; he'd obviously drank too much today.
"Spencer." John said in greeting.
He didn't sound happy, but he didn't sound mad either and Spencer sighed in relief.
"Hey. Sorry I missed your call. I was getting some coffee." He quickly explained.
There was a pause and then John asked, his voice flat. "You at work?"
"Yeah, almost done." He hesitated before asking. "Where are you?"
He frowned. John sounded strange. Usually when he called after they fought he was all passionate apologies and sincere promises to get his temper under control...but this time was different. His boyfriend's voice was hard and clipped and there was nothing soft about his tone.
Something akin to nausea began to squirm in his stomach and he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.
"I'm at your place." Answered John. "I'll see you when you get home."
The line went dead and Spencer set his phone down, staring straight ahead.
Something was obviously wrong. What could he have possibly done to upset John this time? He hadn't even spoken to him in two days.
Suddenly it was as if he'd swallowed a bucket of ice and his heart began to pound in his chest. What if this time John had been waiting for him to call first? He frantically raked his memory, going through every detail of their last fight to try and find some clue as to what he might have done differently that would warrant a change in their established routine.
The whole thing had started because Spencer had opened a new bottle of whiskey. Apparently that fact that it was his bottle of whiskey made no difference and, now that he thought about it, the whole argument had seemed to have started on pretty flimsy reasoning. But then Spencer had made that comment about John maybe buying his own damn booze once in a while and things had really just gone down hill from there and ended with Spencer sweeping up broken glass.
But still, it hadn't been anything unusual. Not for them anyway.
He'd spent most of the day wishing five o'clock would come sooner and now he found himself dreading the moment when he walked through his front door. Would there be more yelling? More destruction of his property?
"Reid?"
He looked over at Morgan, finally blinking and feeling his eyes burn.
"You need a ride home?"
It likely wasn't the first time Morgan had asked, judging by his exasperated but amused expression, but Spencer quickly shook his head, thinking of how John would react if he drove up to the apartments and got out of another man's car.
"No. I'm good, thanks."
When five o'clock hit, Spencer was the first one out the door, resisting the urge to dash to the elevator. The less time he made John wait for him, the better the outcome would be and the whole train ride home all he could think about was how he hoped nothing happened between then and now to delay him further.
Let me know what you think of the first chapter! Should I continue?
