Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. Very excited about the new season though!
Author's note: I love Sperek, I really, really do! I don't have anything else to say right now. Please enjoy.
It came like a lightening bolt from a clear sky.
The Revelation.
The Realization.
The Explanation.
Spencer looked up from where his fingers was touching Officer Erickson's around the last foam cup by the coffee maker and into a handsome smiling face and his stomach did this strange lurch. He stammered and felt heat rush to his face but was waved off and the officer left him staring down at the now unimportant cup as he started to wonder if maybe his lack of interest in women wasn't explained by him being asexual but homosexual.
It made an awful lot of sense.
So he grabbed the cup, made a mental note to analyze the consequences of his realization, and went back to the small conference room where Prentiss and Rossi was fighting over the last donut.
He never thought of Officer Erickson as more than the married but handsome man that had made jolts of electricity run from his fingers to his toes by merely touching him.
If he could he would probably have forgotten his name at some time. Or the location and the reason he was there.
But to the great regret of his future partner he couldn't.
They solved the case, brought back the kidnapped babysitter and went back to Virginia where Spencer hurried back to his flat so he could think things over.
He was a homosexual.
That meant he preferred men over women romantically and sexually.
He was twenty-eight years old and a quick bit of clumsy research that would have made Garcia flinch led him to know that it wasn't unusually late for that sort of revelation.
Or maybe it was, but it wasn't late for telling his friends and family.
Coming out, as they called it.
He didn't feel ready to do that just yet, he realized. He had only acknowledged that he was gay, maybe he should do some more thorough looking in to it than just researching it on the Internet. He knew he was fairly bad with computers, and he rarely used his laptop for more than reading articles online and writing his own.
He decided to do a field study.
Or as he called it in his own head, take his theoretical homosexuality and see if it would stand being tested practically.
He thought himself very clever with his approach.
Then he realized he was still to do the hard part, because really – where could one find homosexuals? Where did they work?
He stared blankly at his computer for a few minutes the next morning while he tried remembering ever reading something about the occupation of homosexuals, but his attempts were fruitless.
So he did what he always did when he was doing some research he wasn't equipped to do on his own; he went to the library.
A youngish woman was busy typing on one of the computers when Spencer burst into the big room and she briefly looked up, only to burst into a big smile when she recognized the stressed man.
"Spencer," she called in the hushed voice all librarians seemed to master and waved him over to her, quickly wrapping up the writing she was doing on the computer. "What can I do for you?" she asked and Spencer noted how she pushed her bosom out slightly at him.
He ignored it.
"I have a question that I can't seem to answer myself," he admitted and the library looked suitably surprised. He had quite the reputation at the library as the man who knew everything about everything.
"And what is that?" she asked and leaned forward. Spencer would be able to see her bra if his eyes left her face.
"Where do homosexuals work?"
Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief and Spencer wondered for a moment why her entire body language changed so drastically.
"I mean men," he added and blushed, when he realized the librarian must have misunderstood him. "Where do gay men work?"
She relaxed after a while even if she did look a big regretful.
Spencer would have felt sorry for apparently leading her on if only he wasn't so preoccupied with the discovery and further investigation of his homosexuality.
"I think my hair dresser's gay," she said with a small smile. "He has a salon downtown, I'm just gonna write down his number," she opened some drawers and found a note pad and a pencil, quickly putting down some numbers and an address before ripping the note off. "He's a really great hair stylist but he gives off this vibe, you know? Of course you don't," she added when she apparently noticed Spencer's facial expression.
He had no idea of what 'vibe' the hair dresser was giving off.
He was eager to find out and took the note of the table and smile his thanks.
"He's also very popular," the librarian added thoughtfully and Spencer had to fight the surge of impatience soaring through his body.
"Is that so?" he asked without interest.
"I should probably call and book a time for you, I doubt he'll want to fit you in if he thinks you're just some random stranger. It could be weeks before he has an open time and you have your own schedule to take care off, I'm sure." Spencer nodded eagerly and the woman failed at hiding her amusement.
"It would be great," he said and shifted his weight nervously. "My schedule is actually very busy. And it changes all the time."
"I'll see if I can get him to see you today then, shall I?" Spencer nodded and she gestured for him follow as she went into the back room, where a telephone was placed next to a note saying 'No personal calls during working hours'.
She obviously ignored the note.
Spencer was a bit offended for the one who had bothered to put it up, but brushed the feeling off as the call connected.
"Hi Anthony, it's Carla! How are you? That sounds great... Yeah, of course I'm fine too! Listen, An, a friend of mine was asking me whether... He really... Emergency?" the librarian, who apparently was called Carla, a fact that Spencer hadn't picked up during his years of touring the library, glanced at his hair and smiled thoughtfully. "You'll want to rip your eyes out, that's how bad it is... Great... Perfect! I'll tell him right away. I'll see you next week." She hung up and smiled to Spencer.
"So?"
"He'll see you just before closing time today, so be there before five or he'll mess up my hair next time I go as revenge and then I'll have to give you a ton of fake fees to take my pain out on you."
"That's illegal," Spencer said, wide-eyed with shock.
"So should your haircut be."
Spencer spent the rest of the day until five walking the streets and staring at himself mirrored in the windows of the shops he passed.
His hair didn't look that bad, he mused in front of a women's clothing store and pulled at one of the long tendrils of hair. It wasn't like he had meant for his hair to look like this, he just hadn't had time to have a haircut for a while and then the whole sexuality-revelation happened and his priorities had never revolved around his appearance before, as both Garcia and Morgan had noted on several occasions.
Appearance was secondary to knowledge.
Appearance was secondary to a whole lot of things actually.
He wondered if he had to get the haircut or if the hairdresser was interested in just telling him about being gay and where he could meet other gay men, which was the next thing to do on his gay field study.
The salon was located in a lime green building and the inside was kept in a odd nuance of orange, that Spencer hadn't experienced before and found to be soothing and inspiring.
"You must be Carla's friend," a thin man with what Spencer assumed was perfectly styled hair and a very tight shirt exclaimed and sashayed around the counter.
"Yes, I'm Spencer Reid, I frequent the library she works- ouch!" The hairdresser had grabbed him by the chin and twisted Spencer's head from side to side while he assessed the haircut with a poorly disguised sneer.
"An emergency, indeed," he muttered to himself before letting Spencer's chin go. "My name is Anthony, you may call me An, and I'm going to save your life!"
And then Spencer was ushered into an ornage armchair which proved to be surprisingly comfortable and then his vision was momentarily obscured as a enormous piece of cloth blocked his sight before it was tightened around his neck and fell softly around him, covering both him and the chair.
"So what do you do?" Anthony asked and started spraying Spencer's curls.
"Um, I'm an FBI-agent," he answered slightly dizzy with the quick pace the hairdresser kept.
"That sounds exciting," he gushed and pulled a comb from a stand next to him. He started combing Spencer's hair. "So what do you do with the FBI?"
"I'm a profiler," Spencer said and tried to collect enough courage to ask the question he had been thinking about the entire day. He found it surprisingly hard. Somehow Anthony managed to be just as intimidating as Hotch and scared him more than Hankel had.
"And what does a profiler do then? And are FBI-agents really allowed to look like druggies?"
"I catch serial killers and they don't really care how I look just as long as I'm able to do my job," Spencer snapped, hurt by the drug-addict comment. "Are you gay?"
He wasn't ready to ask the question he realized, but, he mused, it was better to talk about something else than his past drug abuse.
"I sure am, honey," Anthony said and flashed Spencer a smile before reaching down and picking up a pair of scissors. "Why, would you like a date?" He winked.
Spencer carefully took in the hairdresser's appearance, the hair, the shirt, the evenly tanned skin.
"I don't think you're my type," he finally concluded.
Anthony stopped combing and slowly met Spencer's eyes in the mirror.
"You're gay?" he asked, a disbelieving smile playing with the corners of his mouth.
"Theoretically, yes. I'm testing to see if I am attracted to men as a rule and I need to go somewhere where there'll be other gay men that I can converse with so I can asses my immediate attraction."
Spencer didn't care for the mask of poorly hidden amusement Anthony was sporting.
"I," he started and took a deep breath. Spencer suspected it was to withhold his laughter. "Let me just get this straight. You think you're gay-"
"I'm quite sure that I am-"
"-and you want me to tell me where you can meet other gay men?"
"Yes," Spencer said, keeping firm eye contact in the mirror. The other man still looked amused but not as disbelieving.
"Have you tried a gay bar?"
"I'm not very fond of bars."
"Pity, most gay men are. It's the best place to meet potential romantic interests, if you know what I mean." Anthony winked and Spencer gave him a small but knowing smile back.
He had no idea what he meant.
"Look, there's a gay bar right down the corner, I'll show you where when I'm done." The scissors started snipping with a speed that managed to terrify Spencer. He had thought the hairdresser would let him go when he realized his real goal with seeing him.
"Do you have to cut my hair?" he asked, ashamed to hear how pitiful it sounded.
"Sweety, you're a gay man now – you can't run around looking like a hobo. I'll probably even have to bring you back to my place and force you into some decent clothing first."
"I really don't think that would be a good idea. It would only make me feel uncomfortable and self conscious and that would affect the outcome of the evening in ways I won't be able to predict."
Anthony watched him ramble with a raised eyebrow.
"You done yet?" he asked, his voice drier than a desert. Spencer could only nod. "Okay, I won't take you home and dress you up, but I forbid you to wear you knitted vest."
Spencer grabbed his vest under the cover.
"Fine," he muttered and let himself pout.
The fell into silence, comfortable on Anthony's part, horrified on Spencer's as he watched all his hair being cut off and fall to the floor.
"Is this fashionable?" Spencer asked after a while.
"Very. And it'll make you look all kinds of cute."
"It looks like I haven't had a haircut in weeks."
He was being petulant, he was aware.
He also didn't care.
"It looks casually cool. The boys down the bar will be all over you. Or they would be if you let me clothe you too." Anthony narrowed his eyes at the mirror and Spencer looked away to escape the disapproval.
"I don't think I'll be able to handle too much interest," he said under his breath and Anthony chuckled.
"You'll love it," he declared and tousled Spencer's hair before unfastening the cover and pulling it off in a flourish motion. "What do you think?" he asked with a beaming smile.
"My neck's cold," Spencer complained and looked at the transformed face in the mirror. He supposed it did look flattering. It made him look younger at the very least.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
"You don't know what you're talking about – you look ready to go out and get laid!" He went to put the cover away and therefore didn't see Spencer's flushed face.
Sex.
He hadn't thought about that yet.
The walk to the bar was brief and Spencer let Anthony do the talking, describing how he wanted Spencer to go to the bar and buy himself a drink while looking available and that he would watch over him from a distance so it didn't seem like they were together.
Spencer would have approved of his plan if hadn't been so preoccupied thinking about the sexual part of being homosexual.
He was also worried that he hadn't thought about it before.
And suddenly he was standing all alone at the bar, a barkeeper looking at him with an amused smile while he stuttered his way through ordering a coke.
He discreetly assessed the establishment while the bartender fetched his soda and noted that while the music was louder and several people were dancing even at the early hour, he was already liking the bar better than any of those Morgan had brought him to.
It had probably something to do with the fact that the only women in the bar were a couple who looked pretty cozy by a table in the back. All the others were men.
Apparently gay men, if he was to believe Anthony.
Judging by the way the men on the dance floor were moving and the others' distinct lack of disgust he found it to be very likely.
The bartender came back with his coke and winked when Spencer quickly took a deep gulp.
He just wasn't used to bars.
He was already starting to feel weird, sitting at the bar all alone.
"You know," a voice suddenly said next to him, and Spencer looked up from his coke and into the face of a smiling man with dirty blond hair, "I've been checking you out since you got here, and I can't really seem to get a clear read on you." The man rested his chin in his hand, leaning heavily on the counter. His body language was open and inviting and suddenly Spencer remembered that he still hadn't really had the opportunity to consider the sexual part of being homosexual.
Bot enough anyway.
"No?" he found him self to say, in what he realized was probably the poorest attempt to communicate he had delivered since he learned to speak properly.
"No. Are you sure you're actually gay?"
He shrugged, he was still testing and therefore not equipped to answer the question.
The stranger probably didn't want to know about his field study anyway.
"Can I get you a drink?"
Out of the corner of his eye Spencer noticed Anthony grinding against someone on the dance floor. He winked to Spencer who hurriedly turned his attention back to the man next to him and said, "sure," with a matching nod.
The man lit into a big grin.
"Barkeep," he exclaimed and waved his arm to gain the bartender's attention. "I need two Cowboy Cocksuckers, one for me and one for my new friend."
Spencer felt his cheeks warm at the name of the drink and when the bartender rolled his eyes at him it grew even worse.
Was he really going to drink something called a Cowboy Cocksucker?
Bought to him by a stranger?
"I'm Martin by the way," the stranger said and held out his hand.
"Spencer," Spencer said after a brief pause and shook the hand.
It was a firm handshake. Dry and with just enough pressure to not make it seem like a test of strength. People who claimed they could judge a character by his handshake would love it. Spencer wondered how it would be like to get a handjob by it.
Then he blushed again and gratefully accepted the shot glass filled with milky brown liquid in front of him.
The shot wasn't very strong but he could still taste the alcohol and decided to be more careful.
Martin was smiling to him.
"So you do shots like a real man, huh?" he said with a teasing smile and threw back his own shot. "Did you like it?"
Spencer considered that for a while. "Yeah," he decided.
He realized he wasn't exactly encouraging the conversation and bit his lip trying to come up with something to say.
He could only come up with sex related topics and thought that that probably wouldn't be the best thing to bring up so early in the conversation.
Martin didn't agree.
"So now that I'm sure that you're gay I still wonder one thing." Spencer looked at him, silently encouraging him to continue while taking a sip of his coke. "Top or bottom?"
Spencer snorted the coke up his nose in surprise and the bartender hurried over, donating several napkins to the grateful and embarrassed FBI-agent.
Martin was trying to fight his laugh. "Does that mean bottom?"
"No," Spencer said in a scratchy voice. His nose hurt from the fizzy drink.
"So you're a top?" Martin looked surprised.
"No, I mean – I'm not sure about it. I'm not sure about anything, I only just realized I was gay a few days ago, and this is my first day where I'm able to be and act gay and spend the entire day trying to figure out where to meet gay men so I could get some observations on what it's like. Perhaps some good advise. My field study was spent walking round town, knowing that my hair looks ridiculous-"
"I think it looks nice-"
"That's because I got a haircut by a man who told me I looked like a drug addict and tried to take me home to his place so I would wear something else when I went to this bar but I refused him, so he made me take off my sweater vest and I'm still not sure if I'm just a theoretical gay of if I'm practicing too."
"So you're a virgin?"
"Well, once there were this woman called Anita-"
"Gay-virgin," Martin clarified, and Spencer could only nod. "Want to come to my place?"
Spencer narrowed his eyes. He wasn't expecting this turn of events. He hadn't expected the break-down he had experienced and even less that it would lead to an invitation to...
"To have sex?"
"Sure. We'll start out light – a handjob, maybe you'd want to try and reciprocate – and if you want to we can take it further?"
"So you want to have sex with me?"
Of course he had to make sure. He had just done the opposite of everything Morgan had ever told him about picking up women, and he was pretty sure that game was something you needed to go well with both sexes.
"I do. You have this cute nerdy quality, and I'm really into smart guys."
"I am smart," Spencer confirmed, pleasingly surprised that people could be into intellect. He hadn't experienced that before.
"Well then, aren't we a lucky pair? I found a smart nerd and you found a nice guy who just aches to bring you home and break you into the lifestyle of the ass-pirates."
"The what?"
"Aren't you just the cutest!" Spencer was grabbed by the hand and gently led out of the bar. He caught Anthony's eyes just before he left and hoped that the hairdresser would remember him if Martin turned out to be an UnSub.
Then he started thinking about sex again.