It's always nice when the BAU can actually see each other outside of work, though even if there is free time, Spencer has to be veritably dragged away from Rowena. The team does an admirable job of not prying, but Morgan can't take it. After a long draught of his beer, he slams the bottle down and points a finger at Spencer.
"You have given us absolutely no details of what's going down between you and your little lady and I for one have had enough of it!" That little prompt is all Garcia needs for a flood of curiosity to pour out.
"What's she like? What do you two do for fun? How long is it now?" Spencer blinks owlishly and takes a long draught of his whiskey on the rocks before responding, thinking carefully about how to respond. Work relationships are tricky.
"She's great. We read together, watch movies, and nearly three months." Hotch's lips twitch towards a smile and he watches Spencer with amusement, resisting the urge to start questioning the boy as well.
"Fine, I'll ask the question we all want to; just how well do you two know each other, and I do in fact mean in the biblical sense?" Garcia waggles her eyebrows, beaming at her favorite boy wonder as he chokes on the bittersweet liquid and JJ puts her head in her hands.
"I can't know the answer to that question." She groans but Spencer is recovered enough to fend for himself.
"No, no, you can know the answer because the answer is no! I mean, sure, we've slept on the same couch or in the same bed once or twice…" Rossi and Hotch exchange glances, Morgan whistles, and Spencer starts to get flustered. "But that's it! I swear!" Several sets of eyes just study him for a few seconds and Spencer curls up over his glass, pouting like a child. Garcia reaches across the table and pokes his cheek gently, once, twice, three times before he shoots a dark look her way and the redhead smiles brilliantly at him. Spencer can't glare in the face of her incandescent joy and finally grins, and the rest of the team relaxes.
"We're all thrilled for you, kid, chill out." Morgan says cheerfully and Rossi himself reaches over to rub Spencer's shoulder, proud of the boy.
"It's about time you found yourself a woman, Spencer. Cheer up, don't let your high school classmates get you down." The night goes on merrily and surprisingly, it's Hotch who volunteers to give him a ride home. Spencer's not quite sure why and is a bit nervous, but goes along with it. It's eerily quiet for long moments before Hotch breaks it.
"Relax. I'm not going to interrogate you, or warn you. You're too smart for that, I won't patronize you. As your boss, I do have to ask this next question though; did you file the paperwork?" Dating is allowed between co-workers in the FBI unofficially, mostly because the bean counters can't codify what a date is, but once a relationship ensues, it must be reported. As long as the participants don't work together closely, it's permitted.
"No." Spencer replies after long moments, running a hand through his "boy band" hair. He's trying his best not to push Rowena too hard or fast, lest he push her away, and that kind of request seems like the perfect way to do just that.
"You should at least broach the conversation. I can handle Strauss cracking down on me, but I don't want her to have a reason to come after you." Hotch's tone never changes, nor does his expression, but his dark eyes are soft on the young man when he glances over to see how he's faring. Spencer nods once slowly, then again.
"Alright."
There's something else bothering him. After the brief exchange in the airport, Rowena clammed up about Detroit and hasn't said a word since. Sure, he could call her former partner and get the answers he needs but he wants to hear from her. It's times like this he wishes that he were a little less gentle and could be firm with Rowena, but he can't bring himself to be anything approaching harsh with her, it turns his stomach to think of even raising his voice. Her phone calls are less frequent; she's a bit cooler than usual as well. It's killing him, but he can't make himself ask the questions he wants to.
Spencer calls her Saturday at noon, because she's always up by then. There's no answer. 1:00, same story. And 1:15, 1:30, 1:35. The bus schedule runs on the ten minute schedule and Spencer hops on the 1:40 to her house. He knocks his knuckles bloody on the door with no answer before opening it. Unlocked is strange too.
"Rowena? Rowena?" The lights are incredibly dim and he feels dirty for coming in when she's probably not home, but her car's there, and that's when he walks into the living room. Rowena is sitting cross-legged on the floor and two full bottles of good quality Scotch are directly in front of her. He recognizes her clothing as pajamas, and her hair is a fluffy triangle around her head. Her normally bright eyes are dull behind her glasses and he recognizes tear tracks down her cheeks.
It seems as though she hasn't realized he's there and Spencer doesn't blame her. He's felt that hollowness a hundred times, he's stared at a vicious little vial just like she's staring at those bottles. Spencer nearly trips over his own feet rushing around the couch and he shoves the bottles to the side, the loud clank finally jarring Rowena out of her trance enough to snap her gaze up to his just before Spencer envelops her in his gangly arms.
"Spencer, when did you get here?" She asks slowly, still coming out of it, and Spencer fights the urge to crush her with the force of the affection asphyxiating him.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why?" He whispers fiercely, rocking her back and forth and for a moment she sags in his arms.
"I haven't been drunk, hell, I haven't been tipsy since I left Detroit. I thought that since what made me drink is gone I could control it, and I could, but going back, testifying…" Her voice breaks and Rowena violently shoves him back and the gesture surprises him enough to break his hold on her. "I didn't want you to see me like this! Spencer, why are you here?" She jumps to her feet and starts to pace, walking back and forth at a disturbingly quick rate and Spencer rises to his feet, feeling old before his time.
"Rowena." He calls her name softly. She stares up at him, wide-eyed, and while he's relieved not to smell alcohol on her and see clarity at last in her gaze, the fear of judgment there turns his stomach with its familiarity. "Spencer, why are you here?" Rowena asks brokenly and when he smiles at her, it nearly stops her heart with the caring there.
"You were afraid I would judge you for being a former alcoholic?" Tears start to run and he tries to wipe them away and continue speaking but Rowena starts to ramble, her hands wrapping tight around his wrists to stop the motion.
"It's why emotions scare me, they take me back to the extremes that made me drink and you're so…." She sighs and it turns to a hiccup from hours of crying herself dry. "So wonderful, so caring, I didn't know how you'd react to something so awful and stupid so I hid it and I hid me and I'm sorry, I understand if you walk out and never come back…" Spencer growls, growls deep in his throat in a very manly sound that's a bit disconcerting coming from her gentle knight, before kissing her in a way that matches that sound and her knees nearly buckle underneath her at it. Her heart is racing and so is his, and Spencer finally pulls away to say what he has to.
"Rowena, I was addicted to Dilaudid." Her dark brown eyes go wide behind her glasses and he pulls the frames off to see them better, nearly laughing now with relief that Rowena isn't upset with him. "I've been clean for nearly a year. I know everything you're feeling and everything you've felt. I'm not going to judge you, I'm not going to dump you. Rowena, I'll help you for as long as you'll let me." It explains so much but it doesn't, it's baffling, and Rowena stares at him with what is now innocent confusion.
"You, an addict? Really?" Spencer feels tears of his own trying to break free now but he smiles and reaches in his pocket for his chip, showing it proudly.
"Yes, me. I've been practically on my own since I was 8. I know why you don't want to be weak in front of anyone and take care of it all yourself, and how tempting it can be to just take a quick fix to make it all feel better without anyone seeing you break. I understand, Rowena. I do." There's a long pause as she tries to process what she's being told, and Spencer watches her carefully. It makes sense as Rowena considers it and he can feel the tension seep out of her.
"I didn't drink anything. Not today, not last week, not since Detroit. I wanted to, so badly. No detox, I was never that bad, but I still have the urge." She shakes her head, starting to smile at last and looks at him with what he would approximate as wonder and wariness.
"And you don't care? After only three months with me, you want to stay?" Spencer's eyebrows knit together with his own brand of naïve confusion.
"Rowena, you've rid yourself of what triggers your addiction. I face my trigger every day. I'm in the worst line of business for a recovering addict." It takes effort to not let the frog in his throat jump out and Rowena takes his hand, both latching onto the contact for comfort. "But I think we can help each other." That's not all he means. Spencer knows the astronomical odds of them finding each other (granted, addicts to something like alcohol within law enforcement are more common than most professions) and Spencer sighs, irritated with his inability to express himself.
"I think we need each other." She counters softly, and he recognizes the truth of her words immediately, doing the only thing he can think of and kissing her knuckles gently, one by one. Rowena shivers pleasantly but takes her hands from him, her playful demeanor back. "Coffee?" He chuckles, shaking his head at the oh so Rowena response to emotional outpouring.
"Yeah." She ties her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and makes her way to the kitchen after standing as tall as she can on the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek, whispering a soft "thank you" that tickles his ear. Spencer stays put for a moment, returning the coin to his pocket and it rustles against the form for official acknowledgement of a relationship between agents. His fingers grasp the paper briefly, but then move to put his phone on silent. Not now.
A/N
seriously. reviews are motivating. please keep up feedback and thank you for the reviews you've already given! Many thanks!