Spencer and Owen usually slept as far away from each other as they could on a Queen size mattress. It didn't help that Spencer was Too Tall for his own good- 6'3 and most of if it was legs. Still, Spencer had woken up to find Owen curled up next to him most mornings since he had signed the lease on his new apartment. Owen usually slept in later than Spencer, even when he had a job he was supposed to be at by 10. Glancing at the alarm clock, Spencer realized it was only 4:30 am- far too early for a reasonable person to get up.

Still, Spencer found himself pushing back the covers and climbing out of bed, kissing Owen on the top of the head as his boyfriend inched into the warm spot he had left behind. Spencer was as quiet as he could be as he crept out of their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Spencer could go on a run? He hadn't been running as much lately, even though he had more time on his hands. He had been too busy with the move to even celebrate becoming a doctor, let alone to spend an hour everyday sweating as he ran in circles around Boston.

Spencer could make breakfast for Owen? Spencer was a godawful cook when he wasn't half-drunk, and he couldn't remember the last time he made pancakes without getting the fire department called to his house.

What he ended up doing was making a big pot of coffee and chain-smoking Owen's cigarettes on the fire escape. It was the first-time Spencer had chain smoked, the first time he had a sober cigarette, but he couldn't think of anything else that would calm down his brain.

Maybe it was because Owen got referred to a new psychiatrist and was on a new combination of medications or the fact that the pre-set expiration date on their relationship was drawing closer, but Spencer and Owen hadn't fought since they talked about their "affairs". A whole three weeks of peaceful, domestic bliss.

(actually, they started fighting about the best Star Wars movie at dinner the night before, but it was more of a "spirited disagreement" than a real fight)

Spencer smoked half a pack of cigarettes and drank the whole pot of coffee as he waited for Owen to get up. He watched the sun rise over the apartment buildings nearby and the sky go pink and then orange and then blue. His stomach hurt, but he couldn't tell if it was the nicotine, the coffee, or the fact the last thing he ate had been an early dinner the night before.

Spencer could hear Owen before he could see him.

There was a commotion in the kitchen- it sounded like Owen dropped a pan on the kitchen floor. Owen opened the kitchen window and stuck his head out to see his boyfriend.

"When did you start smoking?"

"This morning."

"It's a bad habit. You shouldn't pick it up if you can avoid it."

"Alright."

Owen laughed, leaning out farther to press a kiss to Spencer's cheek.

"Are you making more coffee?"

"Yeah. Did you smoke the whole pack?"

"No, there's some left for you."

"Alright."

Owen disappeared back into their apartment for a few minutes, then came back to the window, passing Spencer the pot of coffee and an ashtray before he climbed out to join Spencer on the fire escape.

Spencer leaned forward as Owen slotted himself in behind his boyfriend. The two of them got situated on their "balcony", legs splayed out on the metal bars, coffee mugs in hand and an ashtray next to them. It was hot already- 80 outside, and it was only 9 am. Owen was in just his boxers, chest already covered in a thin layer of sweat. Spencer didn't mind it as he settled back against his boyfriend, resting his head on his chest.

There was something about sitting with Owen, waiting for his boyfriend to smoke an American Spirit (light green, of course) and to drink his first cup of coffee, that made Spencer nostalgic for something he hadn't even left yet.

"Nine days."

"I know. Your party's tomorrow."

Spencer glanced up at his boyfriend. Owen had insisted on a bon voyage party for Spencer, mostly because nobody would be able to make a housewarming party in DC. Invitations had been sent out, Owen had ordered a keg, and Spencer's boxed up belongings had been relegated to their storage space in the basement of the building.

It was going to be great, apparently.

"I know."

"What's on your Boston bucket list? What do we have to cross off before you move?"

"You make it sound like I'm never coming back."

"What are the odds you ever live in Boston again?"

"Can we not talk about this? I don't want to think about this right now."

"Alright." Owen stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. "Do you want to go see a movie, then? There's that Pirates of the Caribbean one- I think we can make the matinee if we wanted to?"

"Don't you have work?"

"I don't have to go in until our lab meeting at 3:30. Plenty of time for you."

Spencer and Owen sat across from each other in a diner in Connecticut. Owen looked absolutely exhausted- he was wearing his reading glasses to look over the menu and Spencer could see the stubble on his jaw. Spencer knew he didn't look much better- the two of them didn't sleep much the night before. Spencer watched his boyfriend pour cream and sugar into his coffee, and a few ice cubes from his glass of water.

"What?"

"I'm gonna miss you."

"Well don't cry now, you'll get tears in your coffee."

Owen slid the napkin dispenser towards Spencer, as well as the box of sugar packets.

"Boys don't cry." Spencer said, laughing as he dabbed at his eyes.

"Boys do cry. Just not when you're about to drive the next leg."

Spencer still had that ache in his chest- the nostalgia feeling that made him want to quit his job and run off and become a barista or something.

Anything so he wouldn't have to give up everything he had just found.

"Are you mad at me? For leaving."

"I don't think mad is the right word. I don't think I could ever stay mad at you- I think I love you too much."

"But?"

"But I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I'm happy about this."

Spencer was quiet, no longer blinking tears out of his eyes but just staring down at his mug of coffee.

"I'm also not going to tell you not to go, Spencer. I love you far too much to try and clip your wings. I just wished you weren't flying so fucking far away."

"I'll pay for your flights out, babe, once I'm done with training. It won't be too bad- we'll make it work."

"Alright, Spencer."

The FBI Academy killed Spencer. Twenty weeks of toxic masculinity and gym class ruined his mental focus. Just because he was headed for a desk job didn't mean that he could skip the fitness tests, or the firearm training.

He wrote two letters every day, one for Owen and one for his mom. Nobody really asked him what he was up to- Spencer was never good at making friends right off the bat. He never sent the letters to Owen, he just kept them sealed in envelopes at the bottom of his suitcase.

Spencer had never held a gun before, and it showed on his firearm certification. This was the first "school" Spencer had ever been at where he was in danger of failing. He wrote about how scared he was to join the FBI in his letters to Owen- how scared he was that he would have to do something awful in the name of the greater good. He managed to keep it pushed out of his mind for most of his days, but every night he would toss and turn in his bunk, mind racing around the idea that maybe Owen had been right. Maybe joining the FBI was a bad idea- something Spencer was unable to do.

Still, he made it through. Twenty weeks of physical exercise and classes on the constitution, plus a whole bunch of stuff Spencer never wanted to talk about again. He walked across the stage at his first real graduation (he hadn't walked at MIT or Caltech, mostly because his mom wasn't at either of the ceremonies), scanning the crowd for Owen.

Owen was on his winter break, and he had driven down to DC for Spencer's graduation. He had unpacked the rest of Spencer's boxes- the ones left over from when he moved Spencer in to his apartment, and he was excited to see his boyfriend. They had subsisted on 15-minute phone calls three times a week for the past 20 weeks, a whole 15 hours of conversation in contrast to the 6 months they had spent living together.

He hardly recognized his boyfriend when his name was called and he walked across the stage. Spencer looked different. The first thing he realized was how much smaller he looked. Owen knew that Spencer had probably gained weight, pure muscle added on to his frame, but he looked like he was drowning in his uniform. He looked tired, too, the dark circles that were permanently under his eyes were darker than Owen remembered.

Owen cheered, clapping for his class traitor boyfriend as he walked across the stage. Owen felt a out of place – he had picked out the most obnoxious bouquet of flowers he could find for Spencer, and he was underdressed in his winter coat and jeans. Why the FBI insisted on an outdoor graduation ceremony in December was beyond him.

After Spencer walked across the stage and got changed into his clothes, he met Owen in the parking lot. Owen practically tackled him, smothering him with kisses and whacking him on the head with the bouquet he was holding. Spencer shirked away from the affection, but still held Owen's hand as they walked to his car.

"What do you want to do now?"

"Owen, I haven't had sex in almost 5 months. I have a pretty long list of things I want to do."

Owen was staying through Spencer's first few days of work, just in case something went wrong.

Spencer didn't expect to be called into the field his first day on the job, much less in the first twenty minutes of him getting assigned a cubicle. But Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, insisted that he go, even if he hadn't even been issued a gun yet.

"Do you have a go bag?"

"Yes."

"And you passed your qualification exam?"

"Yes sir."

"Then we'll have the police department issue you one when we get there." Aaron smiled at Spencer, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Welcome to the job, Reid. We'll be heading out in 30."

All Spencer could think about was Owen, probably still asleep in bed, and how he wouldn't be home for dinner like he had promised. He dialed the number on the phone in his new cubicle, and Owen answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

His voice was thick with sleep, something Spencer would've loved if he wasn't at work.

"I'm about to fly to Iowa for a case. I don't know how long I'll be gone for."

"Oh. You're going in the field?"

"Apparently. I don't even have a gun yet"

"What do you want me to do, hang out in your apartment for a week without you?"

"I don't think I'll be gone for the whole week."

Spencer looked over, Gideon was watching him- he could feel the eyes on his neck.

"Look, baby, I have to go. Just enjoy the city while I'm gone. Make yourself at home."

"Are you sure you'll be back before I go? Because I'd much rather just head back to Boston if you're going to call me on Friday and tell me you won't be back."

"I'll do my best."

"Alright. I love you."

Spencer hung up before he said I love you too.

Spencer had an awful case for a first job experience- men being brutally beaten to death and left on playgrounds.

Spencer threw up the first time he saw one of the victims at the scene, getting so sick vomit came out of his nose. JJ sat with him off to the side, rubbing his back and offering chewing gum when he was done.

"Does this mean I'm bad for this job?"

"It means you're human, Spencer. Most people throw up when they see people treated like that."

Spencer was thrown by JJ calling him Spencer- most of the people in the FBI called each other by their last name, but he appreciated it more than he could express.

"Is it always going to be like this?"

JJ looked around, Morgan and Gideon were talking, hunched over the body like it wasn't even there.

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's better and sometimes it's worse. But it's the job, you know? We all signed up for it."

Spencer was silent for a moment, stomach heaving still.

"Are you going to be okay? I can drive you back to the police station if you want to ease into this."

"Would you, actually? I don't think I can do this right now."

"Of course!" JJ smiled at him, squeezing his arm. "I'm going to tell Gideon and Morgan. You'll be alright for a minute?"

"Yeah, thanks, JJ. I really appreciate it."

Back at the station, Spencer sat with Hotch pouring over old case files and victimology reports. Hotch was doing his best to explain how profiling worked- comparing victims and trying to figure out how the victims and the crimes related back to the unsub. Owen would say it was a lot of guesswork, but apparently the BAU was good at what they did.

A few times, Hotch got distracted- his phone would buzz and he would practically leap over the table to answer it. Spencer would guess (profile?) that Hotch had a partner (probably a wife, if Spencer's gaydar was any good) who he loved very much. Spencer asked about it when they were waiting for their next pot of coffee to finish.

"Her name is Haley. We met in high school and we've been together ever since. It's apparently disgustingly cute, if I can take anything our tech says at face value."

Hotch smiled with his eyes when he talked about Haley, and he seemed a lot less scary when he smiled.

"I feel bad- we've zig-zagged across the country for my work and she's always just been along for the ride. I'm happy we're back in DC because it's where we're both from, but she's been trying to talk me into transferring back to the West Coast."

Spencer felt something tug in his stomach and for a second, he thought he was going to be sick again.

"Would you do it?"

"I think I would do anything for her. She's my better half."

Spencer ducked out for a cigarette after Gideon and Morgan came back from the field. He had stolen a pack from Owen when he was packing, but he hadn't smoked since he left Boston. It was comforting- something that smelled like his boyfriend and gave him 15 minutes to think happier thoughts than dead men on playgrounds.

There was time for Spencer to call Owen, but his boyfriend should be busy at work right now. He missed his boyfriend more, now that he was thinking about him. It was strange- not knowing the next time he would see him. Spencer really had taken living with his boyfriend for granted, getting peeved by toothpaste in the sink and Owen leaving the toilet seat up.

Spencer didn't call Owen later that day. He didn't manage to find a spare 20 minutes until Friday afternoon, long after he told Owen he would call. While the BAU was waiting for their takeout to get delivered, Spencer ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, dialing Owen's phone number from muscle memory.

It took Owen three rings to pick up.

"Hey, Spencer. What's up?"

"Nothing really, I just missed you."

"I miss you too."

Spencer wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say- something between asking if Owen hated him and if he wanted him to quit his job right then and there.

"I think we should break up."

Spencer felt his stomach drop. That answered the first question, anyways.

"I'm not here to wait around for you, Spencer. I have my own life to live."

"Are you mad? I know you drove down so we could spend time together, and I'm sorry that I had to leave."

"No, I'm not mad."

Spencer listened to Owen on the other side of the phone. He had never cried in front of Owen before, and he didn't know if doing it over the phone counted.

"I'm going to love you whether or not we're dating, Spencer. It was nice to see you and you bought me Thai food so I guess I can't be mad. I just think it's better to break up when I still love you then before I hate you for being gone all the time."

"Yeah. Makes sense"

Spencer was rational to a fault.

"Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome?"

"I'm sorry Spencer. I love you."

Owen hung up quick, leaving Spencer with an ear full of dead air and an ache in his chest.

Spencer hadn't cried in years. But here he was, in a dimly lit bathroom in a police station in Des Moines, Iowa.

He had never held a gun before the FBI Academy.

He had never seen a dead body before yesterday.

He had never been broken up with before today.

Spencer wasn't sure if he believed in luck or a God, but something else was calling the shots in his life. Three months into his job they were assigned to a case in Boston. Cold, grey, wet March days.

It wasn't too bad, although the center of the unsub's comfort zone was Cambridge. Spencer wasn't sure if he could stomach walking around MIT if he had to, even if he had managed to push Owen most of the way out of his mind. Still, four dead escorts had washed up in the Bay, and Spencer knew that there were probably more that they hadn't found yet.

After four long days of interviewing families and talking to possible suspects, the team was sitting in a conference room, brain dead and exhausted.

"Hey, pretty boy, you lived here a while. Where should we get lunch?"

Spencer looked up from the case file.

"Depends. What are you in the mood for?"

Morgan smiled at him, warm.

"Somewhere we can sit down. I'm tired of this police station."

Spencer was pretty sure these were the cops that didn't investigate Owen getting mugged. He had no problem shoving the case files into his briefcase and rounding up Gideon, Hotch and JJ.

They ended up at the Mexican place, by Owen and Spencer's old place, a lot later than lunch.

"How are the margaritas?"

"Actually, the blue ones are pretty good. A solid ratio of blue curacao to triple sec, and they're not too sweet."

"So, I'm hearing you won't be mad if we order a pitcher?"

"Absolutely not!"

Owen was actually having an okay time. He was working a lot of odd hours to make up rent again, but he didn't feel any busier than he was when he was dating Spencer. Sure, he cried every day for two months and had to get a new bed because he couldn't stomach sleeping on their bed, but he was doing better. It wasn't like Owen didn't miss Spencer, but it was easier to get over somebody who lived 6 hours away. He only cried on Mark's shoulder three times, and once it was mostly about the computer cluster failing instead of Spencer. Plus, it was easier to be happy when there was somebody flying out to see Owen.

His fling from Chicago, a bass player named Luke, asked to crash on his couch for a weekend, and who was Owen to say no. It was exciting to have an attractive man underfoot, somebody to keep the bed warm while Owen showered.

Luke's tour had ended up getting cancelled- something about "corporate sell outs" and a whole bunch of backroom business Owen didn't understand, but Owen was more than happy to have Luke play guitar for him half-naked after they had sex.

"Do you want lunch?"

"Mmm, I think I'd rather stay in bed."

Owen kissed Luke, laughing.

"We have to eat."

Luke looked down at his watch. "It's a little late for lunch."

"Takeout? We can go pick it up and then grab a bottle of wine?"

"You're really speaking my language."

Owen was always the person to make the phone calls. He called Fiesta, rattling off their dinner order.

Owen and Luke got dressed quick, pulling on sweatpants and hoodies and thick socks before running out to Owen's car. It was going to be a good night- maybe they would swing by Family Video and pick up a movie to watch.

The two of them had enough time before their order was ready to go to the liquor store, Family Video, and Rite Aid for snacks. They even had time to make out a little in the parking lot.

Owen and Spencer passed each other like two ships in the night.

The BAU was settling their tab, arguing about the per diem and whether or not it included the pitcher they had drank. Spencer was biting his tongue, trying to keep from reciting the spreadsheet from memory, down to the fine print.

Luke opened the door for Owen.

"After you, sir."

"Why thank you!"

Owen squeezed Luke's arm before walking to the counter.

"Hi! Pickup for Polk?"

Spencer's ears perked up. The restaurant wasn't that busy- it was 3pm on a Saturday.

He couldn't forget Owen's voice-but he didn't believe it was real when he heard it.

"As long as your lunch is under $15 you're good."

"I didn't know you managed our finances, Reid." Hotch smiled at Spencer, lips stained blue from a margarita

Spencer felt his cheeks flush pink, and he moved to brush his hair behind his ear.

"It's on the per diem release- $50 for meals and incidentals in Boston and Cambridge a day. The suggested breakdown is $8 for breakfast, $15 for lunch, $22 for dinner, $5 for incidentals, and-"

"How do you remember this?" JJ tilted her head as she pointed a tortilla chip at him. "Do you have a computer chip in your brain?"

"Eidetic memory. I can't forget things, even if I want to."

"A blessing and a curse."

"Something like that."

"I'm excited to get back to your place."

"Yeah?"

Owen looked at Luke and rolled his eyes. Somehow, they were still waiting for their order, although now they were sitting in the lobby of the restaurant. Luke had a hand on Owen's thigh, and gave it a squeeze when he started talking.

"Yeah! I can't believe you haven't seen Donnie Darko!"

"My ex wasn't too big on scary movies."

"But it's so much more than that, Owen. It's a cinematic masterpiece- you're going to love it."

Owen couldn't help but smile.

"If you say so."

"Order for Owen Polk? Hi, sorry about the wait."

Owen and Luke turned around to face the hostess.

"Thank you so much!" Owen handed the hostess $40 cash "Keep the change."

Spencer stood up from the table, heart racing from overhearing Owen's name. Was Owen here? Or was Spencer just anxious and imagining things? He excused himself, heading towards the bathroom, shoulder checking Owen as he walked by, entirely on accident.

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks, and Owen looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Spencer?"

"Hi, Owen."

"What are you doing here?"

"Four dead prostitutes in the past three months."

"Oh."

Spencer looked at Luke. Was this the person Owen had fucked in Chicago? Had he been replaced that easily?

"If you'll excuse me."

Spencer locked himself in the bathroom. He wasn't going to cry. When Morgan asked him what was wrong on the drive back Spencer stayed silent.

"Ran into an … old friend. Somebody I didn't really want to see."

Morgan let him leave it at that, patting him on the shoulder and turning up the radio.

Owen couldn't believe it. He didn't want to think that Spencer would come back to Boston and not even call him. What happened to staying friends?

"Who was that."

"Some guy I used to date. He works for the FBI now."

"Oh." Luke looked over at Owen, knuckles white as he held on to the steering wheel. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Owen texted Spencer while Luke was showering that night. He was going to drop him off at the Amtrak station soon, and Owen missed Spencer.

Even if the thought of seeing Spencer again made his heart race and his palms sweat.

He didn't want to get back together- he didn't believe in getting back together with your ex. Owen just wanted to make sure Spencer was okay, that he was eating enough vegetables and getting enough sleep at night, icing his shin splits before they got too bad.

hi! if ur still in boston we should get drinks before you go

Spencer's phone buzzed. Morgan was in the shower, and Spencer was laying spread eagle on top of a made bed. Seeing Owen made him feel weird, like he still loved him or something. Spencer was half-sure it was a break in the case, and he was a little disappointed to see it was a text from Owen.

Is this all he was to Owen? A booty call while investigating a series of dead sex workers in the Bay?

I'll let you know when we solve the case.

They didn't make a break in the case until Thursday night. After that, it unraveled pretty quickly- a Harvard professor with a passion for sexually harassing students ended up being behind it all, and it was very satisfying to watch him cry in the interrogation room.

Maybe Spencer had changed.

Hotch made the decision to let them spend the night in Boston- it was too late to catch a commercial flight back to DC and he didn't want to find a pilot for the jet on such short notice. Morgan suggested to go out for drinks, and tried to strongarm Spencer into coming out with them because he "knew all the best bars in the area".

A false statement- most of the bars Spencer knew were the ones Owen worked at, and the cheap student bars where you could get a $10 pitcher. Not exactly something FBI agents would be interested in. Still, Spencer rattled off the first few places he could think of where his team wouldn't be too out of place, and then excused himself to his motel room for the rest of the night.

Just finished the case. Leaving tomorrow. Are you busy?

Working at old rose 2nite. Will prob b cut at 12 if u want to come by

Spencer had always liked seeing Owen at work. There was something about the black outfit, the dark lighting, and the fact Owen always poured Spencer's drinks a little heavy. The Old Rose was one of the places Spencer had thrown out to his team, but there was only a 25% chance they'd pick that out of all the options he had suggested.

When Spencer got carded at the door, the bouncer looked at his ID, looked at Spencer, and shook his head.

"I need some other ID."

"I've been here before!"

"So? ID or go somewhere else."

Spencer sighed, fishing his wallet out of his pocket and handing over his old MIT Student ID and his FBI agent card.

"FBI agent?"

"Yeah."

"Alright then." The bouncer handed Spencer back his ID's and waved him in.

Spencer spotted Owen behind the bar, dancing around with one of his coworkers. He was nervous now, he had been surprisingly calm until he laid eyes on Owen.

Owen was still breathtakingly handsome- his hair had been buzzed close to his head and he looked like he had been working out more. Spencer held his breath as he walked up to the bar.

"Can I get a vodka soda with a lime, please? And a water."

Owen looked over at Spencer and his face flushed pink.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"I'm here."

"I can see that."

Owen got to work making Spencer's drink, throwing in two extra limes and making sure the glass was clean. Maybe Owen did still love him after all.

"Where's … your boyfriend?"

"Who, Luke? He's not my boyfriend, and he went home."

"Back to Chicago?"

"Yeah."

Owen looked away from Spencer, making eye contact with a guy at the other end of the bar.

"Hey, how are you tonight? It's been a while since I've seen you here! What can I get you?"

Spencer was painfully aware of the fact he hadn't even kissed anybody since he Owen had broken up with him. He couldn't stop staring at his arms, the way the muscles moved as he shook cocktails.

"Hey Owen? When's your break?"

Owen looked over at Spencer, then down at his watch.

"Maybe in like half an hour? I'd have to talk to Grace."

"Can we … talk? When you're not busy, I mean."

"Yeah, sure Spencer, we can talk." Owen's eyebrows knit together as he examined Spencer. "I didn't really think you'd want to talk, though."

"What?"

"I honestly thought you came here to give me a piece of your mind. Chew me out for breaking up with you or something."

"Who's to say I'm not going to?"

"Are you?"

Spencer sipped at his vodka soda, crushing the lime between his teeth and spitting the rind out into his glass.

"Probably not."

Owen glanced around the bar- it wasn't all that busy, and he still had Grace working alongside him.

"I can take my break now, if you want to talk."

Owen grabbed Graces shoulder and leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh.

Owen lead the way for Spencer to the fire exit, grabbing two bottles of Corona and his jacket as he passed them. The two of them stood near the dumpster awkwardly, shivering while holding beers and lit cigarettes before Owen broke the silence

"So how have you been?"

"I've been good! Working a lot but I've gotten to see a lot of the US that I had never seen before, which is fun."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No." Spencer felt his face heat up and he was grateful for the cover of darkness. "Not a lot of time for dating when you're making 2 cross country flights a week."

"Oh." Owen ashed his cigarette, and Spencer stared at the glowing red ember.

"How have you been?"

"I've had some ups and downs but I can't complain. The cluster went down last month and I lost about four months of runs, but there's not anything I can do about it."

"I'm sorry." Spencer felt like he was stumbling over his words. When did talking to Owen get so hard? "I take it you're seeing somebody?"

"A few somebody's, but nothing too serious. I don't really date, except for you."

"Oh."

Owen looked at Spencer, head tilted like he was doing a crossword puzzle. Spencer wanted to ask him what he was looking at, if there was something on his face, but before he could get the words out Owen was kissing him.

It felt good, great even. Exponentially better than the last kiss they had shared- when Owen was still half-asleep in Spencer's bed before he went off to Quantico. Spencer kissed Owen back, dropping his cigarette and grabbing the back of Owen's head with his newly freed hand.

They continued making out, desperate and cold, until Grace banged on the door.

"Your break's over, dipshit. Come help me serve customers."

Spencer waited out Owen's shift in the corner of the bar, sipping on vodka sodas with extra lime until Owen was cut. It ended up being closer to 1 than midnight, and Spencer had a 8:30 call time for his flight back to DC the next morning. Still, Spencer climbed into the passenger seat in Owen's car half drunk and went back to their old apartment.

It was everything Spencer had dreamed about- sweet, sexy, and a little sad. They were smoking in bed together after, Owen resting his head on Spencer's chest.

"Are you coming back to Boston anytime soon?"

"Not unless another serial killer pops up."

"Oh."

Spencer kissed the top of Owen's head before tracing his fingers along his boyfriend lover's arm, feeling the firm muscle under his hand.

"So is this what we are? People who hook up when they're in the same city?"

"I don't see what's wrong with that." Owen said, looking up at Spencer. "Honestly, Spencer, did you think we were going to fall back into a relationship like nothing ever happened?"

"It's what I wanted."

"I never would've pegged you as a hopeless romantic."

"I think I'm just hopeless."

Owen snorted, putting his cigarette out as he rolled off of Spencer.

"Do I have to drive you back to your hotel or something?"

"Either that or to Logan in the morning. I can have somebody else bring my stuff."

"Can I just take you to the airport in the morning? I don't really want to drive right now."

Spencer glanced at the alarm clock- it was 2:30 in the morning.

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Good." Owen rested his head on the pillow, throwing his arm over Spencer. "Now come hold me before you run off again."

Spencer was the last person to show up at the airport, and he had only texted Morgan to grab his go bag half an hour before the BAU left their hotel. Morgan and JJ were wearing sunglasses, holding large coffee cups as they waited for Spencer. Spencer was all too aware of the hickey in the curve of his neck, and that he was wearing the same clothes he had left the police station in the day before.

Morgan wolf-whistled at him as he stepped into the airport, and Spencer was very happy that he had chosen to take a cab instead of having Owen drive him. It was bad enough he had to tell his teammates that he had a sex life- he didn't think he could bear having to come out to them in the same breath.

"Good night, pretty boy?"

"Yeah, I would say so."