Chapter Twenty Two: There is Joy in the Silence

A/N: Hey, you beautiful bitches, here's the next chapter. Sorry, it's a few hours late. To see why, read my a/n at the end of the chapter.

Passionate lust,

Blue Time Rush

P.S. Don't hate, appreciate. I'm a BTR fan, and I don't care who knows. I shall sing my love for them at the highest rooftops and on the tallest towers.

P.P.S. High fives to all who get the Torchwood reference.

Spencer lay beside Derek in the dark. It was late. He should really be getting to sleep. But, he can't. He was high on every endorphin Derek pumped into him a few hours ago, skin still sweating as his lover slept soundly, clinging to him from behind. Not wanting to wake Derek and talk about why he's still up, Spencer slowly detached himself from his boyfriend's tight grip, gone soft with sleep.

Standing on shaky legs and pulling a large pair of sweatpants that wouldn't fit him in any universe up his legs, he walked down into the kitchen to boil himself a glass of milk. That helps sometimes when he can't get to sleep. He opened the fridge, the cold chill giving him a pleasant memory of the time Derek and he tried to have sex in the fridge just to see if it was possible. It was. Spencer smiled to himself and pulled out the milk grabbing a pot off of the drain board and turning on the stove.

Silence rang all throughout the apartment, but it wasn't like the silence Spencer's used to. The silence that accompanies loneliness, anyway. Clooney's deep breaths could be heard from the living room where he slept on top of the couch after Derek goes upstairs to sleep so that he won't be chastised by him to get off of it. Even though there was no noise coming from upstairs, Spencer knew Derek was up there, sleeping, waiting for him, there with warm arms to hold him close and lips to kiss him in the morning. It was the best feeling in the world.

Sure, things aren't the same, but as Spencer poured the milk into the pot, he noticed that what was so different about their relationship—what had scratched at him so much—was its maturity. They were becoming more and more domestic by the day, and that pleased Spencer. They were too old for what they used to do anyway; the random, passionate sex, the night calls, the text flirting. They're grown ass men, and while that was okay in the beginning of their relationship, they've both come to terms with the fact that they're settling down with each other because that's what they really wanted to do. Wow. Spencer paused and pondered deeply about it. A house, Clooney, maybe a child or two running around, and Derek by his side was a nice thought indeed. Spencer checked on the milk. A perfect thought.

Something caught his eye from across the room, a long pair of black slacks. Shit, so that's where his pants were! He was looking all over Derek's room for them after they… well… tired themselves out. That's the only reason Spencer decided to spend the night. Because he couldn't find his pants. Okay, maybe they weren't Grade A mature right now, but they were getting there. Spencer turned off the oven and strode over to the kitchen table and bent to get the pants, noticing something slip out of his pocket as he did. His phone. Spencer grabbed that as well and stared at it for a moment. It stared back at him. Spencer turned it over and sifted through his call list, to see if he can remember the past conversations. He's up, so he might as well entertain his endless memory. The last person he called was JJ. She urged him one more time to go with Derek into the bathroom, and he took her advice. Then, she advised him to take pictures and that's when he told her to stick it where the sun don't shine. Before that, Garcia had called him. Something about the last case freaking her out. She needed someone to talk to that wasn't an overemotional Derek and a sarcastic Kevin, so he was that for her. These were getting terse. Spencer sifted for a name that didn't pop up often. Hotch. Oh, crap. Yeah, Spencer doesn't have to be eidetic to remember that one. People don't usually forget accidentally phoning their boss while they're beating off. Spencer shuddered and continued down the line seeing the usual until he saw plainly MOM. They'd talked about the upcoming New Year and Spencer's plans to start working on a novel in that conversation. He was considering it, and if Rossi could do it, Spencer assumed he could as well. She encouraged him, because… she wanted to really know how he was doing. Spencer doesn't consider himself a chatterbox when it comes to his personal life, and if anyone knows that, it was his mother. Remembering the tumultuous conversation Derek had with his own mom, he decided to phone. It wasn't that late. It was only eleven, but after the romp Derek and he had, anyone would be able to sleep for at least a week straight. Except him. Spencer thinks he might be the only person in the world that actually gets more woken up by sex that tired out by it.

He pressed the dial button and got the automated voice of Bennington's. Spencer navigated it until someone came to get his mother to the phone. He needed to hear her right now. He doesn't completely know why, but he just does.

"Hello," she said into the phone, "Baby, is that you?"

Spencer nodded, a big smile on his face at the sound of her voice, "Hey, Mom. How are you doing?"

She began to laugh, "Hell, I'm wondering how you're doing! You're the one calling me at the crack of dawn!"

Spencer sighed, "It's not that late. I just wanted to talk to you. I miss you."

His mother spoke gently, "I miss you too, baby. Is everything okay up in Virginia?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah, it's all good. Well, technically, it's all bad. If it were all good, I'd be out of a job."

She laughed again, "Oh, Spencer, you're silly. How's the team?"

Spencer replied, "JJ's alright, so is Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, Garcia, and Morgan. The whole posse's doing great."

Spencer's mother paused, "Why did Morgan come last in the list? He always comes first."

If anyone can find patterns in conversation, it's a paranoid schizophrenic. Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really wasn't ready for this talk, "No reason."

She said suspiciously, "Are you sure he's okay?"

Spencer nodded quickly, "Yeah, Morgan's great! He's awesome. Really."

She asked, "Why don't you want to talk about him?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "I never said I didn't want to talk about him."

He could almost hear her smile, "Oh, but you did. I'm your mother, Spencer, please don't insult my intelligence. Out with it."

Spencer looked toward the stairs that lead to Derek and his warm bed that they'd just recently screamed on and sighed, "Okay, you're right. I don't want to talk about it."

"That's a strange sigh." she gasped, "Oh, my goodness, you haven't slept with him, have you?"

Spencer almost dropped the phone, "No! Why would you think that?!"

His mother began to laugh, "Because it's obvious. That was a lustful sigh, there, Spencer. Watch your commandments."

He blushed furiously, "Mom, come on. Cut it out."

She giggled, "Don't think I didn't notice how eager he was to please me when I met him. One way to a kid's heart is through their parents, you know and damn, that boy had it bad for you. I was waiting for you to notice, actually. It was starting to get sad."

Spencer asked, "How come you're so okay with this?! We're talking about me having sex with a man here. This is some heavy stuff, and you're laughing it off!"

Spencer's mom replied, "Because I don't mind if they're adopted, Spencer, I just want grandchildren! Lord knows, you've been holding out on me. You're getting up there in age, and you're too handsome not to be attached."

Spencer groaned, "Mom."

She smiled into the phone, "Spencer, it's okay. Really, it is. And I'm happy for you. Now, tell me how it's going with you two."

Spencer held back a grin, "Well… he's really amazing. We've been together for two months, and we're planning on telling the team about us in a few weeks. He's got a really nice dog who actually likes me, he's really understanding, and we talk. We talk about a lot of things, and… I know it's only been a handful of weeks, but I think we could be looking at something long lasting here. What do you think?"

She considered, "How does he treat you when no one's around?"

Spencer replied, "With respect."

She asked, "Does he cook for you?"

Spencer nodded, "Yes, which is a godsend since we both know how incompetent I am in the kitchen."

She pondered, "Is he a good listener?"

Spencer smiled to himself, "A great listener, and an amazing talker too. Jeez, sometimes…"

His mother began to laugh, "And the sex?"

Spencer blushed and sighed, "Innovative. Bordering on the avant-garde."

She clapped her hands in glee, "Oh, Spencer, I'm so happy for you. Let me know if you two want to come down for a visit, I would be happy to see my baby and his new beau."

Spencer grumbled, "He's hardly my beau, Mom, come on."

"That's what you say now," she said joyfully into the phone, "But if you like it, you should put a ring on it."

Spencer ran his hand down his face, "Mom, I'm not putting a ring on anything. It's only been two months."

She shrugged, "Then four, then eight, then a year, then ten. Spencer, you'd be shocked how short life is. Sure, your father and I didn't have the best marriage, but I'll be damned if I'm getting married again. He was it for me, and Morgan sounds like 'it' for you."

Spencer groaned into the telephone, "That's because I've been in love with him for years. And I mean, years. I thought it was impossible, but then…"

She probed, "Then, what?"

Spencer revealed, "Then, he kissed me at the New Year's party and turned my whole life upside down. Nothing's been the same since the 3-2-1, and I don't think it ever will be. But, somehow, I'm okay with that."

His mother smiled, "Good. You should be. Uh, oh, I'm getting asked away from the phone now, so… make good decisions."

Spencer sighed, "I will, Mom."

She called back, "And always wear a rubber! I don't care what he says! You don't know where he's been!"

Spencer gasped, "Mom!"

She giggled into the phone, "See you later, baby. Sleep well."

Spencer sighed, his face cooling from her last comment, "I'll will. He's here."

She snickered, "Well, then don't stay up too late!"

Spencer groaned, "Mom."

His mother saluted, "Talk to you later, baby."

Spencer replied, "Talk to you later, Mom."

Then, the phone went dead, and Spencer was left alone with his thoughts, a big weight shifted off of his shoulders that he wasn't aware was there. His mom approved. His mom. Approved. Spencer jumped up and pumped his fists in the air only to be tripped on the way down by the long, baggy sweats. He called out, pulling up his pants, "Woo hoo!"

A groan was heard from upstairs and then a, "Spencer, if you don't shut the fuck up, I swear to God."

Spencer scurried up the stairs, wondering whether to tell Derek or not considering his mother wasn't as nice with the news of their relationship as his mother was. He felt so happy, though, he could barely hold it back, but for Derek's sake. He climbed back into bed and said nothing.

The day started as per usual at work, and Spencer was starting to get used to the routine. Wake up, brush teeth, change clothes, sit with the interns, go to the briefings with the team, go home either with Derek or alone, wash, rinse, repeat. Although it may seem humdrum and boring to some, Spencer found himself loving it. He was happy, and it's been a while since he could walk around, smiling, twirling the straw in his coffee cup, still blushing when he thought of the night before… which was actually what Spencer was doing right this moment. He sighed, taking a sip from the cup and scanning the new files on his desk even though his mind was nowhere near his desk. His mind was a couple of desks over, on top of Derek's desk, yanking on that blue tie Derek put on this morning. Derek doesn't always wear ties, but when he does, Spencer gets a little frisky. Giggling to himself, Spencer took another sip of coffee and sifted through a file, eyes barely even reading it. Boy, are they going to have fun with that tie when he gets home. Spencer blushed, and bit his lower lip. He can't wait until they tell the team. Things will be so much easier.

"We've got a case, Spence. Break room." JJ walked up to him and leaned over his desk, handing him a decently sized manila folder and pausing at his blissful expression, "I just informed you of another psycho on the loose. What are you so smiley about?"

Spencer sighed and spoke gently, "Isn't it a wonderful day?"

JJ rolled her eyes and replied monotonously, "How much sex did you have last night?"

Spencer leaned back in his chair and cracked his back, "Too much, actually. It should be getting repetitive and almost terse at this point, but for some reason I can't get enough of it. Does it ever get boring?"

"If you've got the right guy?" JJ winked, leaning down further to whisper, "Never."

Spencer sighed, "Wow. That sounds like a dream come true if any. Do you think I've got the right guy?"

JJ asked, "Well, how long have you two been—"

Spencer replied easily, "Two months, three weeks and a day."

JJ shrugged, "If you want the truth, it could go either way. It's not like you've been together for like… I don't know… five years and the sex is still amazing."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, "Okay, I get it. You and Will have been screwing since the beginning of time. No need to brag."

JJ laughed, straightening up to rest her chin on his desk divider, "It ain't trickin' if you got it, Reid."

Spencer grinned, "You are totally misusing that phrase."

JJ chuckled, "Seriously, Spence, unclench when it comes to grammar and vernacular. How does Morgan even stand to talk with you around?"

Spencer wiggled his eyebrows, "He doesn't."

"Oh, gross," JJ reached over and mussed up his hair, "Now he will."

Spencer laughed and pulled his head from her hand, "Oh, God, not my hair. Please."

She raised an eyebrow, giggling, "Since when do you care about how your hair looks?

Spencer replied, "Since he told me he liked it! Now, I've been on a wild goose chase trying to make it look a certain way all the time so he always likes it. But, he doesn't know I'm putting this much effort into it, and I think it may be really stupid to even care this much about something that didn't bother me before, but it feels so nice when he compliments me that I practically go dumpster diving for it nowadays. Is that silly? I think it could be… rrh!" Spencer put his face in his hands, "It's starting to frustrate me."

JJ pressed her hand to her bosom, "Aww, Spence. You're so cute."

Spencer shrugged, "I've never really felt attractive before, but… he makes me feel like I am. Is he giving me a false sense of security?"

JJ gasped, "No! You're gorgeous! No one's ever told you that before?"

"If we don't count my mom, Garcia, and a street walker… no," Spencer answered.

JJ paused, "Huh. I could have sworn I—"

Spencer interrupted, "Nope. Never."

JJ shook her head, "No, I mean, at some point, I must have—"

Spencer cut in, "Not a day in your life."

JJ folded her arms, "Okay, I know that I—"

Spencer sighed, "It's fine, Jay. I'm not heartbroken. Unlike Derek, I don't need my ego boosted every five to seven minutes."

Derek strode up to Spencer's desk from the other side of the room, "Did I hear my name?"

"Speak of the Devil and he shall appear," Spencer grimaced under his breath before greeting, "Hello. Hi."

JJ smiled, "We were just talking about you."

Derek winked, "It was about my chiseled jawline again, wasn't it? Reid, I told you time and time again. Calm the gossiping around JJ, she gets jealous."

Spencer outstretched a hand toward Derek, "Are you witnessing my point being made? The second I make it?"

JJ laughed aloud, "Yeah, I see what you mean."

Derek folded his arms before him, "What do you mean? What point? Reid, what did you say?"

Spencer smiled, "Nothing. Just that you're a self-fulfilling prophecy."

Derek paused as his eyes wandered to the top of his hair, "You're hair looks strange."

Spencer's eyes fell slightly, "Yeah, I know."

"I take full responsibility for messing it up," JJ snickered.

Derek placed his hands on either hip and replied, "And how exactly did that happen?"

JJ gasped, "Oh, no! Not like that! I mean, I rumpled it. It was a joke and… God, there's no way to make this come out right. Is there?"

Derek relaxed, "No, it's fine. I get it. Whew. Good thing too, because I have no problem hitting women."

JJ stuck her tongue out at him and handed him a folder, "Nobody cares. Here, have a case file."

He whimpered, "No. We just got off of that other one two weeks ago."

She chuckled and walked away, "Then it's just what you needed to whip you into shape. Hotch wants us in the break room immediately."

Spencer opened the file and grazed the page, "Five single white females killed in their beds. Hair sheer short, eyes wide open, and mouths cut into a smile. Should be simple."

Minutes later, the entire team was gathered in the break room, JJ's set up neat, orderly, and easy to follow. Spencer sat in the chair between Prentiss and Garcia, not wanting to give notice to how often he usually sits beside Derek even though that's what he's done for years. Ages ago, Spencer got to thinking that beside him was easier to sit in briefings because their thought patterns were unusually paralleled. They would start and answer each other's questions, bounce ideas off of each other, and kick each other under the table when one would say something stupid. Then, Spencer fell in love with him and started sitting beside him for different reasons. His enthusiasm was contagious, his voice was addicting, and he was so brilliant that it was nuts. Oh, yeah, and he smelled like pure, unadulterated awesome. That helps sometimes. Spencer smiled to himself remembering how good it felt to sit beside him, thinking everything under the sun knowing that Derek would never find out. But now, he knew it all, and they were together, so it felt a million times better

JJ began to talk, "In Chicago, there were five women found dead in their beds with their hair cut short, their mouths cut into a smile, and their eyes forced wide open. Autopsy found a pair of circle lenses in their eyes which kept them open and made them appear wider. All of the women had no signs of rape, or asphyxiation."

"Well, then, there can't be a sexual overtone to it. The unsub doesn't seem to have touched them except for when to kill them and cut their hair and face." Hotch asked, "Are there any commonalities between the women other than the fact that they all were killed in a similar fashion? Garcia, cross reference jobs, familial similarities, and dwellings."

Garcia smiled, "Ten steps ahead of you, good sir. The only thing these women have in common are the facts that they all live in the Upper East End of Chicago and have no immediate family members in the area. Even all of their hair colors are different; one of them even had her hair dyed purple for a few weeks before the murder."

Prentiss asked, "Do any of them have significant others like husbands, boyfriends, fiancé's, or are they all single?"

Garcia replied, "All of them are unattached, ma'am."

Rossi replied, "Well, sometimes what is missing is more important that what presents itself. Maybe out unsub has used the fact that their lack of close relationship to get closer to them romantically, but… there's something missing."

"It's possible," Spencer replied, glancing at the files he got, "But if he did that, he would have traces of sexual sadism, and the girls barely seem touched other than the cut hair, faces, and killings. Paper says they were drowned… so, maybe the girls being placed in their beds showed a sign of remorse. This is looking more and more female by the second."

Rossi added, "But, if we consider the face that the unsub is female, then why the mutilation of the faces? It seems more like rage toward the gender in particular, and that wouldn't make sense in a woman."

Hotch said calmly, "Unless the woman in unhappy with herself as well. Maybe, it's a body image thing; taking the beauty of the other women because she feels that she lacks it herself. The cut hair, sliced face, that would only make sense in a woman who wasn't okay with the way she looks. She could be lashing out at attractive women through jealousy."

Spencer nodded raising his pencil to make a point, "Exactly! There is a gentle hand with her mutilation, not as if she has medical training, but more or less like she is taking care of them, but is still upset at them enough to do it! It's perfectly female. Maybe someone of the same age bracket. How old were the women, JJ?"

JJ replied, "They were all between the ages of 20-35."

Spencer sighed, "Of course. The Upper East Side goes right into Roosevelt University, so there's a surplus of unattached young women from out of town who don't know anyone from the area. Perfect bait for our unsub."

Derek raised his hand and said after a pause, "I think it's a dude."

Spencer sighed, "But, Morgan, she—"

Derek replied, "Just hear me out okay. The idea that the unsub is a woman does make a lot of sense, with the mutilation and hair cutting, but have you noticed that the girls aren't wearing sexy clothing. Most women sleep in tee shirts, yeah, but these women were killed hours before bedtime, so they wouldn't have gone out of their house in that. Most women, especially the ones I'm seeing here wear low cut shirts that play to their curves, their hair is done nicely, they wear make-up. These women take pride in their femininity, and as you can see in these pictures, there's none of that. No make-up, short hair, higher collared shirts, wide, natural eyes. These women are being emasculated."

Prentiss asked, "How does that point to the unsub being possibly male?"

"I was hoping someone would fucking ask that," Derek grinned, opening the file and pulling out each and every one of the murder scenes, "There's a handprint on each of the pillows, kind of like the unsub sat over them for a while and leaned down to look at them for long periods of time. That handprint, if you can see it…is ginormous. I mean, come on. JJ, lift your hand."

She did. It was small and slender, soft fingertips and filed nails.

Derek asked Prentiss, "Raise yours."

Prentiss lifted her hand to see that it was slightly bigger, but still delicate with a fresh manicure glossing the tips.

Derek smiled over at Garcia, "Baby, girl. Would you do the honors?"

Garcia raised her hand. Her hand was the largest of all, but it was still soft, thin fingered and the most effeminate of all.

Derek raised his large hands and Spencer sat back further in his chair, willing down the little brush of excitement he gets at the sight of those motherfuckers. He has regularly suffered hard and violent orgasms at their mercy when they touched him, grabbed him, and dug into his skin. Fuck. Spencer, pay attention. Derek wiggled his fingers in Spencer direction, "You getting this, Genius Boy? I'm about to teach you something valuable."

"Does this help your point?" Spencer raised his middle finger.

Derek laughed, "You see that, guys, his hands, though girly and small as all hell are still conducive to the argument! Men's hands are big. That's just fact. And those hands, pressing into the pillow until they made a mark? Those are the hands of a man."

Rossi asked, "Then, if this was done by a man, why is there no sexual undertone to it?"

Derek pointed to the girls' lips, "Do you see this, right here on the lips of these women, they're open slightly. Just like how they look after they're kissed."

Rossi joked, "I bet you're the expert on that."

Derek winked, "I could show you how much of an expert I am, Dave. You know, if you're man enough."

Rossi grumbled under his breath, "Continue with the argument."

Derek replied, "It's done by a man who's attracted to men. He defeminizes women, making them seem as masculine as he can, and then finds comfort in the fact that it's not gay if he's portraying fantasies with a woman. But, it's not enough for him. And, as you can see by these women's pictures, he wants them to be gratified as well. Thus, the plastic smiles."

There was a silence in the room and Hotch suddenly stood, "Well, I guess we have a premature profile on our hands. Wheels up in twenty."

Derek grinned widely and stood, gathering the things in his place as everyone in the room readied themselves to go. Spencer strode up to Derek and whispered into his ear, "You're so hot when you're dissecting a profile."

Derek raised his eyebrows as he placed the stray papers into his folder, "Is that so?"

Spencer whispered quieter as Rossi was the last to leave the room, "That is totally, definitely, undeniably so."

Derek shrugged, "I can figure things out just as easily as you can. I've been working here longer, you know that, right?"

Spencer bit his lip and leaned back to sit on the briefing table, and grabbing hold of Derek's red tie, "Yeah, I just like being reminded that you're one smart, clever, brilliant motherfucker. Luckily for you, it turns me on. So much."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Well, in that case…"

"Yeah?" Spencer asked impatiently.

Derek pulled his tie from Spencer's grasp, "You're just going to have to contain yourself."

Spencer hopped off of the table, bringing them intimately close, "What if I can't?"

Derek began to laugh and pressed his hand against Spencer's crotch teasingly, "You're going to have to learn."

Spencer pouted.

Derek strode out of the room and paused before opening the door, "Have fun taking care of that hard on before we get on the plane."

Spencer mumbled as Derek opened the door, "Have fun sucking my dick."

Derek turned, "What?"

Spencer replied with an innocent furrow of his eyebrows, "What?"

A/N: Important message.

I'm sick. Yay. The bad news though is this may hinder my next update, but I promise you, I will try to get the next chapter in on a timely fashion. I've made a promise to all of you and I do not intend to break it.

Love,

The Ocean Blue