The sound of someone knocking on his door drew Spencer out of his book. He looked up from where he was curled up on the couch and it took a moment for him to break away from the story enough to be able to realize what the sound had been. When the knock came again, he realized what it was and quickly put his book down on the coffee table next to his glass of wine. Then he pushed up to his feet. His socks made a soft sound on the floor as he hurried over to the door. Who was here so late at night? It was after eleven; none of the team would stop by this late. Not without calling first, and not unless there was a case.
Even as Spencer reached the door, his brain told him exactly who it had to be on the other side. Only one person would stop by this time of night.
Sure enough, when Spencer opened the door he found exactly who he expected on the other side.
Remy LeBeau grinned at him out of a bruised and bloody face. "Bonsoir, mon ami. Aint interruptin' anyt'ing, am I?"
It'd been at least six months since the last time that Remy had come to his door. Six months during which they'd been reduced to talking over the phone or in texts. Yet Spencer held open the door and gestured in the man he'd been friends with since he was twelve years old… and the man he'd been in love with since he was seventeen. "You look like hell." Spencer said bluntly.
Laughing, the Cajun strolled in, managing to hide some of his limp as he did though Spencer's eyes still managed to catch it. "Aint y' just a charmer, cher."
"Charm is lost after ten pm."
As Spencer shut the door, he took a second to rest his palm against it and close his eyes. He drew in one deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. Try as he might to distance himself from Remy, he never could turn him away when the man came calling. Be it text, phone, or a drop-in visit like this, never once did Spencer have enough willpower to actually turn him away. No matter how much it hurt. Because, for all that Spencer was in love with his best friend, he knew without a doubt that Remy wasn't in love with him in the least bit. Why would he be? He had his life with the X-Men; he had Rogue. What on earth would he want with someone like Spencer? The Cajun was funny, kind, gorgeous—he could have his pick of anyone that he wanted! There was no way that Spencer had ever stood a chance of having Remy pick him. Knowing that made it hurt so much each time he saw him. Yet, each time Spencer still let him in.
Once he'd managed to steady his hands and push down his emotions, Spencer turned around and found Remy had reached the couch. Instead of going to sit on it like a normal person Remy had opted to turn around and just perch on the back of it, still smiling at Spencer as he did. Looking at him like this let Spencer see just how much his friend was injured. Aside from the bruises and cuts on his face there was also a hint of blood on his dark clothes and a twist to his body that said he was sitting there with more aches than he wanted to show.
Spencer sighed and shook his head. Some things would never change. "Do I need to worry about someone coming after you?"
"Non. Lost em somewhere in Alexandria, I t'ink. Doubled round a few times t' make sure dey wasn't gonna follow me here."
Good. That was one less thing to worry about. With that out of the way, Spencer focused on the rest of it. He'd been down this route with Remy more than once and it was sort of scary to realize that he'd become accustomed to this. "Go down and hop in the shower. Leave your clothes in the sink, I'll take care of them. You know where the first aid kit is. Whatever you can't reach, I'll help you with once you're done."
Remy pushed off of the couch and mock shivered at him. "Makes me tingly when y' take charge like dat, Spencer."
Trying not to respond to the flirting that Remy did as easily as breathing, Spencer lifted a hand and pointed down the hall. "Go."
He waited until he heard the shower turn on before he let himself slump again. How pathetic was it that he wanted nothing more than to go down that hallway and step into the bathroom with Remy? He wanted to be able to climb into that shower with him and help him wash up, help clean and bandage his injuries. He wanted to kiss away the hurts and wrap himself around the man until he could be absolutely sure that Remy really was okay.
Spencer both loved and hated these moments. He loved that Remy trusted him like this, that he came to Spencer when he was in danger because he knew Spencer would take care of him and help keep him safe. Yet…He hated seeing Remy hurt, hated having to take care of him without being able to do it the way he really wanted to, and he hated the fear that sat in him that one day Remy wasn't going to come to his door and something more serious was going to happen to him and Spencer would never know.
Standing here in the entryway wasn't going to get anything done, though. Nor was whining about his problems. Later, once Remy was gone again, Spencer could take some time to wallow. For now he was going to take care of his Cajun as best as he could for what little time he was allowed.
The first thing Spencer did was grab one of the random spare sets of clothes that Remy had left here over the years. He took those into the bathroom and traded them out for the dirty ones. It made him smile when he stepped in there and could hear Remy singing lowly to himself. That was something he only ever did when he was really comfortable where he was.
Spencer pushed away any thoughts of that naked body in there and instead focused on getting the dirty clothes out and to his small little washer and dryer in the closet. The shirt had to go, there was no saving it. The pants, socks, and underwear were all worth saving, though, and Spencer put them in to wash. He kept Remy's trench coat with him and set it down on the couch on his way to the kitchen. In there, made up a thick sandwich with the cold cuts in the fridge; the only thing he really had worth eating at the moment. He brought that and a strong cup of tea out to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.
By the time Remy came out of the shower, Spencer was curled up in his chair once more, only this time he held Remy's jacket instead of a book. Long fingers moved in a familiar pattern as he placed even more stitches into a jacket he'd already repaired plenty of times before. This time at least the cut was easy, along a seam, and wouldn't take much work to fix.
The sight of Remy coming towards him was one that Spencer might've enjoyed at any other time. The Cajun was in just jeans, hanging low enough for Spencer to see the band of his boxers, and nothing else, yet the cuts and bruises on his flesh were enough to distract him. Spencer's eyes went wide as he took in some of the injures. "What on earth did you do to yourself this time?"
"Pissed off a few people." Remy said glibly. He held out the first aid kit in his hand and put on his best smile. It made his eyes twinkle a little and was like a sucker punch for Spencer, stealing his breath away. "Can't get de ones on m' back. Y' mind helpin' me out, cher?"
Spencer set down the needle and coat and moved them to one side. "Sit down," He said, gesturing to the ground in front of him.
With more care than normal Remy folded himself down onto his knees in front of Spencer. It left the long line of his back exposed to the other man. Something that Spencer knew was a huge sign of trust on Remy's part. He didn't exactly like people behind him. Especially when they were going to be armed with anything at all.
Looking over the cuts, there are only two that Spencer's worried about and they're enough to have him whistling and shaking his head. "I'm going to tape up a few of these, but two need some stitches. I suggest you drink the tea I put on the coffee table for you. The whiskey in it should be enough to help dull down the pain." Then, because he knew Remy well enough to know how to set him at ease, he tacked on "It should keep you from complaining too much while I do this."
"Y' got a great bedside manner, cher."
"It's somewhere with my charm." Spencer quipped. He enjoyed the little snort of laughter he got from his friend.
Neither one of them said much while Spencer bandaged Remy's back. It didn't take him long. Unfortunately, he had plenty enough experience in this.
By the time he was done, they were both tense, but they also both relaxed. It was over with. Spencer was free to rise and head to the kitchen to wash his hands, clean up his stuff, and store the kit under the sink to restock and put away later. When he made his way back out to the living room, he found Remy hadn't moved but he had grabbed his sandwich and was tearing into it. Spencer shook his head.
When he got close, Remy leaned forward just enough to let Spencer get back into his chair and get settled. Then Remy leaned back, settling in between Spencer's legs, and he curled up enough that he could rest his head against Spencer's thigh. The gesture had the young genius freezing for just a second. He forced himself to relax, as well as to swallow the lump in his throat. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and put his hand on Remy's still damn hair. "You're safe here, Rem." He murmured. "Just… rest. I won't let anyone in here."
"Je sais." Remy's voice was just as low, a rough rumble that tickled over Spencer's senses.
They stayed like that for a while. Remy eating his sandwich, Spencer patching up his coat. Neither one said anything. They didn't have to. They'd known one another long enough that they didn't have to fill those silences with one another. Oh, sure, either one of them could talk for hours, but they could also sit here and happily not say a word.
Even when they were both done, they didn't say much. Spencer got up and gathered up the spare blankets from the closet. He tossed them down onto the couch where Remy had moved himself to. "I've got work in the morning, so I'll be up early."
"Dat's fine, cher." Remy reassured him. He turned himself enough to smile up at Spencer. Reaching out, he caught Spencer's hand and drew it in, giving it a quick kiss right on his palm. "Merci beaucoup fo' all dis, mon ami. I appreciate it."
Spencer drew his hand back in when Remy let go and tried not to let himself show just how much that small gesture got to him. "You're always welcome here, Rem. You know that. No matter what's going on."
"Oui." That smile grew again, making the butterflies in Spencer's stomach grow. "Bonne nuit, cher. Sweet dreams."
On quiet feet Spencer made his way back to his room. As he went inside, he made sure to leave the door open just a crack the same that he always did. No matter what was going on there was no doubt in Spencer's mind just how the night would go. It'd been the same for almost the entirety of their friendship. Every time they spent the night together, they'd start out in separate places. And every time Remy would slip in during the night, sliding under the covers with all the stealth the thief possessed. He wouldn't ever come in until Spencer was asleep. Yet, no matter what, Spencer always woke up when Remy slid in, no matter how silent the man was. He would wake up to the weight of Remy settling in close to him, cuddling up against him.
Tonight was no different. Spencer was still awake this time when Remy slipped in. He kept still, giving no sign that he was awake when Remy slid in behind him and pressed up against his back. One arm went around his waist and tugged him in close and Spencer let him. No matter how much it hurt later, Spencer always let him. He held on and just let himself absorb what was there for the little time he got it. Because he knew, come morning light, Remy would be gone again.
He tried to stay awake, the same as he did every time, and just like all those other times he failed. The warm weight of Remy with him, the feel of his body there, sent Spencer into the best sleep he'd had in months.
When Spencer woke up the next morning it was to an empty bed. He laid there, keeping his eyes closed. If he just sta
yed here like this he could pretend for a little bit that Remy wasn't gone. That he'd just gotten up to go to the bathroom or maybe to go make them breakfast. He could pretend for a little while that the one thing in the world he wanted wasn't so far out of his reach.
Unfortunately, that fantasy wasn't meant to last.
A knock on his door drew him up out of sleep. Though he knew it wouldn't be Remy, he couldn't help how his heart picked up speed. He scolded himself for it as he grabbed his robe and belted it on while making his way out to the living room. When he answered the door, his heart dropped a little at finding Derek there, while the voice in his mind snarled out Told you so!
"Hey, kid." Derek looked him over, worry in his eyes. "JJ said you weren't answering your phone, so she asked me to swing by and pick you up. We've got a case."
He'd missed their calls? Dammit. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I must've forgot to take my phone to the bedroom last night." Spencer apologized. As he did, he looked around and sure enough he found his phone sitting nearby on the side table where he always set his stuff when he came home.
Right next to his phone, and his keys, was one other thing. Something that made Spencer go still.
There was a single playing card there. The King of Spades.
This wasn't the first time that Remy had left Spencer a card behind. Part of Spencer's mind, the analytical, profiler part—and maybe the hopeful part, too—couldn't help but think of the meaning of all the cards he'd received. Was Remy deliberate about his choice? Was it some sort of message that he'd left behind?
Spencer reached out, scooping up the card and holding it in his fingers. He knew Derek was staring at him and yet couldn't quite stop himself. He stared for a moment before twisting the card and sliding it down into the pocket of his robe. He'd set it with the others. Later, once he was back home, he could think about it and what it might mean. What all of them might mean. For now, he had a team waiting for him and a case to solve. His gaze was serious and alert when he looked back up at Derek. "Give me five minutes and I'll be downstairs."
"You all right, kid?" Derek's concern was clear to hear in his voice.
It wasn't as hard as it had been before to smile at him. "Yeah, Morgan. I'm fine. I'll be downstairs in a few, all right? Thank you for coming to get me."
As Spencer headed back to his bedroom to get ready, he once more twirled the card between his fingers. No, he wasn't okay, not really, and he wasn't sure that he was ever going to be. But this was his life and it was a life he'd chosen. And, if he were honest, he wouldn't trade it for the world.