3

A Shower.

Floyd stood looking at the door which had closed so suddenly in his face. He raised his eyebrows at the white door and looked at the brass handle and let out a long sigh. This wasn't going the way he had expected it to. Foolishly he'd thought he'd be welcomed with open arms and zipper, but that hadn't happened. Nothing was quite working out the way he'd expected it to.

'Spence?' He whispered at the door. He knew Reid couldn't hear him. He could hear the shower running. That in it self was a good sign though – maybe – he was going to shower and not soak. At least he was doing one thing which Floyd demanded. Again he looked at the door handle. There was no lock on the bathroom door. Floyd had long ago broken it and he'd noted that Spencer hadn't repaired it since he'd been gone. He placed both hands on the door and then rested his forehead on the cool wood. 'Spence?' Slightly louder this time, but he was under no illusion that Reid would come and open the door for him. He gave Spencer five minutes to get out of his clothes and get the water to the right temperature and then his hand drifted to the door handle and with a twist and a push he was in the steamy room. He entered and closed the door behind him. 'Spence.' Again but not a question this time. 'I've missed you.' Oh… sort of an apology but not quite. Reid was standing there with a towel held in front of him as though suddenly ashamed of his body… or shy maybe? Floyd didn't approach him. He stood leaning on the door just looking.

'I thought I told you to leave.' Spencer snapped at Floyd. 'I don't want you watching me. It makes me feel uncomfortable.'

Floyd closed his eyes and sighed. 'It never used to. You'll get used to it again. Wash. Get all soapy for me.'

Spencer threw the towel at Floyd and stepped into the shower. He knew that there was no point in arguing this. Floyd wanted to watch Spencer wash. Floyd would watch Spencer wash. Reid could do it and try to forget that there was someone watching him, or he could resist it and end up washing blood out of his hair as he curled up on the shower tray begging Floyd to stop hitting him. Self preservation forced Spencer to do what was requested.

Floyd stood and watched Spencer tip his head back and let the water fall on his face. He had his back to Floyd which made Floyd's blood rush and made him slide down the door to a crouch. He watched Spencer soap his hair and rinse it off again. He watched hands washing where he couldn't see. Floyd wanted to ask Spencer to turn around but he couldn't talk. He couldn't move except to lightly rub his own hand over the front of his jeans which forced a slight groan to come out of him. Spencer didn't take his time. He was quick. Much too quick – but as he turned to face Floyd, Floyd held out the towel for him.

'Can I dry you?'

'Why don't you go and watch the boy have a shower and dry him?' Spencer snapped back at Floyd.

Floyd stood but still didn't move from the door. 'I didn't come here to fight with you. I came to…'

Spencer was shaking his head. Droplets of water sprayed across the room. 'You declared love for someone else. All of this – this nonsense from you is just one of your little games and I'm not fooling for it. What happened? Did he turn you away too? Is that why you're here? Has he had enough of your manipulating bullish ways?' Spencer wrapped the towel tightly around him self and walked to the bathroom mirror. 'I suppose you want me to shave too?'

Floyd took a step away from the door. 'Babes…'

'Don't call me that!' Spencer opened the cabinet so hard that Floyd winced thinking it was going to come off the hinges.

'Fine. Spencer. I would love to shave you. If you'd allow me to.' He pulled a small razor type knife out of the side of his boot.

'You are of course joking. You're not putting that thing near me. Please… wait outside.'

Floyd flashed the blade at Spencer. 'You're going to shave…'

'Everywhere necessary for you. Get out. Clean up the lounge at least if you refuse to leave and then I want to know why you're really here and why you're not with the boy you love.' Spencer pulled out a razor and closed the cabinet door with a bit more, but not much, care than he'd opened it.

Floyd opened the door again and stood there looking at Spencer preparing to have a shave. 'You've made me feel hungry.' He smirked. 'I'll get me some food and have a nibble while you make yourself as beautiful as that stupid haircut can make you.' He closed the door behind him and walked to the kitchen to heat up some chilli.

Discussions on Life and Love.

Spencer sat with a mug of hot coffee in his hands and his bathrobe on. He curled up in his big leather chair and looked around the room which Floyd had miraculously cleared up. At least partially cleared up. There was still mess all over the rug and broken pottery in the hallway. There was still ash from Floyd's cheroots on about every surface, but it was clear of dirty bowls, plates, mugs, glasses and cutlery. Floyd was still in his grubby jeans, a dirty white collarless shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a very dark red double breasted waistcoat which looked like it had come from a museum – and probably had. There were many questions Spencer needed to ask and many which he didn't think he either wanted or would get an answer to. The first and to Spencer the most important one concerned not this boy Floyd had mentioned but the knife he was carrying stuffed down the side of his boot.

'You never carry weapons.' Spencer said. 'Why do you have a knife? What's happened?'

Floyd gave a small shrug. 'Nothing's happened as such. It's not a weapon either. I like to carve things… it's a tool. I've never drawn blood with it Spence. It's not for that.'

'Tell me then…' Now onto the next question. '…about the boy.'

Floyd again shrugged. 'You know him. Don't give me that look of yours. You know him is all. He's not a client of yours.'

Spencer uncurled from the couch slowly and stretched. 'Client? What do you think I am Floyd?'

'A whore. But that's not a problem. I always knew you'd fuck for cash. It's one of your more endearing traits.' Floyd flicked ash onto the floor.

Spencer found that he was curling up again. It was defensive. His arms were suddenly wrapped around his own chest. 'I don't whore and I've never…'

'Yes you have…'

'…never been a whore. You're mistaking me for one of you many delusions. Who is the boy?'

'Sam… but that's not what I'm here to talk about.'

Spencer was now on his feet and this time he managed it without uncurling first. He bounced right to his feet and his coffee slopped onto the floor. 'Sam?' Spencer put out a hand to demonstrate a height… 'Sam?' He repeated. 'Sam is a child! Your child! He's your son!'

'You're making a mess on the floor and a ridiculous fuss about nothing. Sam's not my son and he's a damned sight taller than that. Didn't I tell you I don't fuck kids? – we can add midgets to that list… He's as tall as I am. He's a fully grown adult, but yes probably that Sam who was once that tall, then we were nearly all that tall once if we are now taller. Except me of course, I've never been a kid so I've never been that tall.'

Spencer looked at the floor and slammed his mug down on the table, again slopping coffee and not using a coaster. He could see the irritation on Floyd's face and ignored it. 'So you come home for Christmas, bringing me gifts which I never asked for and want things to be as you'd left them, but you also declare your love for some freak child who's suddenly in your mind an adult? And you expect me to understand?'

'I don't expect you to necessarily understand.' Floyd moved Spencer's mug to a coaster. 'But yes, I suppose that's about it. I missed you Spence. I wanted your company. You should be happy that I'm here. I think I need to remind you why you were so fucked off when I left.'

'You have had sexual liaisons with a child, you have killed and prepared in my kitchen, you broke into my apartment, you…' Spencer turned to look down the passage way towards his kitchen. 'Please tell me that's not Sam you've cooked up.'

'It's steak. I got it from the market. The wrapper is in the bin. You can check if you want. I've not broken in as I pay the fucking rent and I fucking well live here. I have a damned fucking key! So no I've not broken in, I've not prepared cannibalistic food in your fucking precious kitchen – my fucking precious kitchen I should say and I've not had and sexual liaisons with a fucking child! Let me tell you what I've done. Sit for fuck's sake or I'm going to jump you and you can add rape to your list of imaginary offences. I've been doing work for them. Occasionally I get a break and a few weeks to rest. During that time I've been doing little things like re-growing parts of my brain, or lungs… I was shot in the back Spence… very messy… I exploded once too. Equally messy and though then during the short periods of time afterwards I was not on actual active duty I was healing… surely even an idiot like you can understand that? Sam was there too. He's no longer a kid. You know how he can twist things – time… shit like that – Spencer you'd love him too.'

'I assure you that I wouldn't.'

'I know you think he's a freak and maybe he is but each year that passes that mind of his increases. The things he can do… he'd be an asset to the FBI twats you hang around with… he'd put them to shame with what he can do and…'

'Very unlikely.'

'You could talk to him for hours about all sorts of boring shit. He's into that too. Boring shit. He can talk about the sun and stars until you'll want to shoot your self in the ear just to shut him up.'

'Sounds delightful. I'm not interested in how great your lover is. And I still say he's a child.'

'Say what you want.' More ash flicked on the floor. 'He's a great fuck. Knows all the tricks… but then so do you. After all you both only know what I've shown you.' Floyd slid off the couch and knelt in front of Spencer who had just sat back down again. 'Let me remind you babes. He slid a hand over Spencer's bare knee. 'Just a quick reminder. I shouldn't have to fucking beg to give you a blow job, you should be begging me.'

'Get the hell out. Merry Christmas and I hope you rot in hell.' Spencer pushed Floyd's hands away.

Of course pushing him away was probably the last thing he should have done. Floyd just became all the more determined to shower Spencer with Christmas cheer. 'I'll go after you let me.' He said.

'You will… please don't… Floyd… Floyd! No! Stop!'

Floyd moved back to kneel upright but kept his hands warming under Spencer's bathrobe. Floyd knew that any resistance Spencer had been feeling was gone. 'Bedroom.' Floyd hissed. His hands gripped a hold of Spencer's skinny hips and started to pull him forwards off the chair. 'Bedroom or I'll have you here on the floor.' Another jerk forward and Spencer seemed to have lost the ability to do anything other than he was being told. He dropped to his backside onto the wooden floor and began an odd backwards crawl in the desired direction which was greatly hampered by Floyd who was also crawling forward with a leg either side of Spencer's and hands trying to both stop him from falling on his victim and also trying to get Spencer's bathrobe belt unknotted and at the same time lick every part of the body he was managing to reveal. For his part Spencer wasn't resisting in the slightest. He had one arm on the floor which was helping him to move back across the hard wood flooring and the other dragging at Floyd's hair, shirt, waistcoat, hair again, shoulder, neck… anything he could get that hand on and not fall back. 'Please.' Was muttered by both of them at some point on the slow awkward crawl to the bedroom and by the time Spencer's head smacked onto the bedroom door his belt was undone and Floyd was struggling with his own belt.

They didn't use lube. They didn't use condoms. Spencer screamed and clawed at the bedding whilst Floyd howled and clawed at Spencer's back, biting, licking, nibbling, sucking at Spencer's flesh. It seemed to Floyd that time went so fast that he could hardly believe that he was shuddering and crying out already. He lay there on Spencer's back telling him in heavy deep breaths what a fantastic fuck he was and what a well practiced whore he was and then rolled off, moved Spence to his back and finished him off with his mouth. It only took a couple of licks and Spencer was spent and shuddering on the bed. 'You're bleeding.' Floyd let him know. 'Tissues?'

Spencer muttered something about 'Under the bed.' Which gave Floyd an excuse to further lick and nibble on his Spencer as he reached for them. 'Dear god.' Spencer groaned as Floyd began a mouth to mouth inspection of teeth and tongue. The smell was back and now Floyd realised what had been wrong with it before. Spencer didn't have that undertone of blood to his smell. That was fixed now.

They curled up together. Floyd still with his clothes and boots on and Spencer just with his daft hair cut. His hair had dried into a bush of a mess on his head which Floyd was finding amusing now rather than annoying. He wrapped his arms around his Spencer and breathed in his smells and felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he fell into a deep spent sleep.

When Spencer awoke in the morning it was a with a slight shiver. He rolled to his back and reached out for the warm body which was next to him only to find nothing but cold emptiness. Reid knew he should have known better. Floyd had come back to mess with his head and take what he wanted. Though last night he had to admit that he didn't really put up that much of a resistance once things actually started. He groaned inwardly at his stupidity and pulled a blanket over his naked body.

'Hey sleepyhead.' A voice said from somewhere. Spencer opened his eyes again and now pushed up onto his elbows. Floyd was there hunkered down in front of the bedroom door. He had his coat on again and a ratty hat pulled over his head. Spencer slid off the bed bringing the blanket with him and knelt on the floor in front of Floyd. He could feel the icy cold coming off him in waves. Spencer reached out and put a hand on either side of Floyd's face.

'Where have you been? You're freezing.'

'I just had… you know? Things to do. I hurried back. Didn't want to go and not say goodbye.' He put his hands over Spencer's. He had his fingerless gloves on again and they felt wet. Reid took hold of Floyd's hands and pulled them under the blanket to try to warm them. 'No babes. It's just a quick farewell. I hope you like what I got you. You can open it when I've gone.' He paused as Reid rubbed at his wet hands trying to warm them for him. 'Don't.' He pulled them away and showed them to Spencer. His nails had something dark behind them and now looking properly at Floyd's hands he could see the smears of blood. Reid looked at his own hands and could see where the blood had transferred to his own. Slowly he shook his head. 'I said I'd go if you let me have you. I keep promises. You know that.'

'It wasn't a promise.' Spencer tried to reason. 'I'll unpack some of your clothes. Go wash. Spend the day here.'

Floyd shrugged. 'You wanted me gone.' He wrapped his arms around himself. 'Why the change of heart? No… no… I have to go. I never intended this to be a long stay, just a quick… a quick…' He trailed off not wanting to say fuck and make what had happened last night cheap. 'My life is fucked up Spence.' Floyd rocked his head back against the bedroom door. 'Do you realise what shit you'd be in if they knew I was here? If they even thought I'd been here or trying to contact you? Have you any idea what that motherfucker Morgan would do? It'd not just be my end, but yours too babes.'

'No one needs know.' Spencer muttered. He knew how stupid that was. It was insane. Floyd had been out Christmas morning and had torn someone apart with his bare hands. He knew. Floyd didn't have to give him details for him to know what had been done. He could smell it on him. More than that he could smell it in him. On his breath. 'When you left before I thought that my life was over. I thought I'd never be a real person again. I packed away your things because they hurt too much to look at every day. I didn't need them under my nose to remember you. I needed though for other people to believe that I'd moved on.' He smelt the vile stench of Floyd's breath as he sighed. 'But this is the odd thing, I've been expecting you back. Every day I've been expecting you back, hoping you'd be here, needing you at my side, directing me, moving me around as though I'm a piece on a chess board. I've been lost. So lost.'

'You don't need me Spence.' Floyd stood and pulled Spencer up with him. 'I'll ruin you.'

Spencer opened up the blanket and wrapped it around them both. 'You ruined me that first time we met.' He whispered back. 'And I might protest and tell you that I don't need you, but I'm just so mad with you!'

Floyd carefully pushed Spencer away from him. 'I'm soaked… sodden. No one who will be missed. Some junky whore who probably would have died in the cold anyway.'

'I don't want or need to know.'

'But I need to tell you. If you want me to stay then you have to know. I cant be pretending I'm something I'm not anymore. I'm not the perfect boyfriend. I'm not a great lover. I'm greedy, selfish, spiteful, good looking maybe, but not so much when I'm blood soaked. I'll have a shower. Choose something nice for me to wear and I'll take you out for dinner.'

'I've a frozen turkey dinner in the freezer.' Spencer told him.

Floyd opened the bedroom door. 'No you don't. I ate it last week. Spence I booked us a table for two this afternoon. I'm taking you out for a date. Find something for me to put on now and choose something for later. For both of us.'

Spencer followed Floyd out of the bedroom. There were bloody fingerprints on the wall and on the bedroom door. 'Floyd.' He reached out and grabbed Floyd's back. 'I need a shower again too I think. I can show you where the soap is.' Spencer was aware that yesterday he was pushing the man away and telling him to go. He was aware that now he was begging him to stay even though he was probably going to get Spencer killed or at the very least put in prison for aiding and abetting a murderer. Yet there was nothing he could do to stop what he was doing. He could feel the prickle of tears beginning to form behind his eyes and now they were tears not of anger but of fear that this person was going to abandon him again. 'I can soap your back for you.' Spencer offered.