Derek walked into the apartment after finishing his paperwork at the BAU, ready to go to bed. He went into his bedroom and saw Spencer on his hands and knees, digging underneath the bed and groaning.

"Isn't this quite the view?" Derek said, leaning against the doorframe and whistling.

Spencer rolled his eyes, pulling up the blanket and reaching under the bed. "Watch it."

"Might I ask why you're in this position for me?"

He got up, looking under the pillows. "One, I'm not in it for you. After everything in Chicago, I'm exhausted, and I can only imagine how you feel." He put the pillows back, opening his drawer on the nightstand. "And two? After I finished my paperwork, I decided to come back here and take a nap on the couch. I put my glasses on the table before falling asleep, I woke up, and they were gone."

"…So you think that Clooney put them under the bed, where he doesn't fit, or in the drawer when he can't even manage not to chase his own tail?"

"I don't know. All I know is that your dog keeps stealing my glasses and I'm sick of having to go to my optometrist every week and explain to him why I need new glasses. By the way, if they are destroyed, you're paying for this pair."

Derek shook his head. "Maybe he just hid them, like he does with your socks. Come on, let's just check his usual hiding spots before we jump to conclusions."

Spencer reached out, taking his hand. "Fine."

Derek walked out to the kitchen and checked under the counters. He found a few stray socks of Spencer's, but there was no sign of his glasses. He then decided to check under the couch, under the tables, and next to the toilet, but there was no sign of them. He sighed, defeated, before whistling.

"Clooney!" he called out. "Here, now."

The dog ran out and sat in front of Derek, wagging his tail.

Spencer paused. "Derek, what is that in his mouth?" he asked, squinting.

Derek bent down, patting Clooney's head and grabbing it, taking it out of his mouth. He held up the frames of Spencer's glasses, chewed up and missing the lenses.

Spencer groaned. "Damnit, Derek! Again?!"

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he asked, setting the frames on the counter.

"Teach your dog what's actually food!"

He looked on the floor and saw both of Spencer's lenses, chewed and spit back out. He set them beside the frames and shook his head. "He's just a puppy-"

"And as his owner, you need to teach him right and wrong. For example, wrong? Chewing on your boyfriend's glasses when he needs them to see properly and function at work. Right? Chewing on a toy, a bone, or even his own ass, for that matter." Derek bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. "Derek, this isn't funny! How am I supposed to see?"

"Don't you have your contact lenses?"

Spencer put up a finger, walking to the bathroom and grabbing the box, before walking back and tossing it to him. "You mean those?"

Derek inspected the box and saw that it was covered in bite marks. "What, so they're damaged because the box is?"

"No, I know they're damaged because I opened the box and there are teeth marks on every single lens."

He set the box down on the counter, running a hand over his face, dreading the conversation and lecture to follow.

"You need to train your dog to not chew on things that aren't his food or toys specifically made for chewing. My socks, sneakers, laundry, and especially my contact lenses and glasses aren't dog treats. How do you expect me to explain this?"

He shrugged. "…Say that you misplaced them?"

Spencer looked at him incredulously. "Derek, it's me. I haven't misplaced anything in 24 years."

"Memory, right." Derek screwed up his face, thinking. "How long would it take for your optometrist to get you a new pair?"

"A few days."

"How bad is your vision without them?"

Spencer squinted, sighing. "I can see about two feet in front of me, but nothing more."

"And all of your contacts are broken?"

"Every last one of them is chewed up."

He thought to himself. "Call and explain the situation to your doctor, get enough contacts and glasses to last you a while, and they're on me. From now on, we'll keep your glasses in a case in the nightstand, and your contacts locked in the bathroom cabinet. That way he can't reach them, and I can work on training him."

Spencer chewed on his cheek. "And when people at work ask how I lost my glasses for the third time this month? What am I supposed to tell them?"

"The truth?"

He glared at him. "Derek, the blurry figure of you is a complete idiot. You want me to tell our team 'Derek and I have decided to say to hell with the anti-fraternization rules, have been sleeping together for the past eight months, and I've been spending every night at his place'? Oh, and add in 'as a result, his puppy decided that my contacts and glasses were food, so I'm squinting and dealing with headaches until Derek finally takes the hint and trains him'?"

"…Okay, so maybe the truth isn't the right answer."

He scoffed. "Really? What gave you that idea?"

Leaning against the counter, Derek thought to himself. "Do you still have your go-bag here?"

"Yeah, I stopped by my apartment and grabbed a change of clothes before coming here."

"Can you use whatever contacts you have in there until I can get your new pair?"

He shook his head. "I only have one daily pair left. I'd have to hold onto them until I absolutely have to use them."

He crossed his arms. "How long can you deal with the squinting?"

"A few days, maybe? Though I'll definitely be getting headaches from it."

"But you can do it?"

"I sort of have no choice?"

Derek smiled, wrapping his arms around Spencer's waist and kissing his forehead. "Good, because you without glasses is very attractive."

Spencer rolled his eyes, swatting at Derek's arm. "I still haven't forgiven you. Or your dog."

"You'll warm up to him."

"We'll see."