A/N: I just want to point out that the timeline in this story is really, really…..off. Spencer's a genius and has all his qualifications, but graduated High school at 16, in the year above Mike's class. Spencer joined the FBI 2 years before Mike did. (I'm assuming Mike would join the year of his 23rd birthday, which makes Spencer, like, 33 in this story.) It jumps from POV as well. Sorry. (Or am I?)
By the way, the ''Hankel'' stuff didn't happen, but Spencer's still a former addict.

Chapter 2: Godot

"If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself."
-George Orwell

"We still on for today?"
"Of course!" the voice on the other end chuckled, "It's been forever, Mikey."
"I know…" Mike trailed off, silently worrying.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, possibly sensing Mike's uneasiness.
"Yeah." He lied, "It's just a really tight schedule."
"…You wanna reschedule? I can do breakfast instead?"
"Sounds good." Considering Paul wouldn't be up and about until around twelve, Mike reckoned he could get back in time and avoid Paul's anger. It would be pretty difficult, but it'd be worth it. Mike hadn't seen Spencer since their High School graduation.

Spencer hung up. He was supposed to meet Mike at a restaurant downtown in 2 hours. Considering Mike had a boyfriend, calling Spencer at 6am probably wasn't a good idea...Mike and Spencer had history – Spencer liked to think of it as ancient history. Ever since he'd gotten married, he was a changed man. Well, he liked to think that, whether or not it was true.
He rotated his ring slowly before taking it off. Spencer didn't wear his ring in public. He thought of marriage as a private affair, and didn't take kindly to people who always talked about theirs.

Mile got out of the shower, patting himself dry. He was going to be late for his meeting with Spencer if he didn't hurry.
"Going somewhere?" the voice growled. Mike turned to face the owner.
"Paul." He said, "I didn't think you'd be up so early."
"You didn't answer my question." He said quietly. Mike preferred when Paul yelled, or even insulted him. Because, when Paul got quiet, there was always trouble.
"I was going to meet an old friend; from high school."
"Oh," Paul got up and Mike scrambled to get dressed. Still only half covered, Mike looked for words to soothe Paul, "and when were planning to tell me?"
"I-I didn't want to wake you." Mike said timidly. Paul grabbed Mike's wrists and physically shoved him against the wall. Mike felt the wind knocked out of him as Paul tightened the vise-like hold.
"Listen to me, you slut –"
"Paul, let go. I'm bruising." Mike pleaded. Paul tightened his grip, and Mike gritted his teeth.
"Your friend. What's their name?"
"Spencer." Mike felt like his bones were being crushed. Paul let him go. Mike slowly rotated his sore wrists. They slightly stiff and the red finger marks were clearly visible…this was definitely going to affect his wardrobe choices.
"Spencer," Paul spat the name like venom, "isn't going to find out about this. Is he?"
"No, he isn't." it was a rhetorical question, but you could never be too careful with a man like Briggs.
"You are going to be back within six hours." Paul ordered, "You already know what's going to happen if you disobey me." Mike nodded. Paul had ways of getting into his head without laying a hand on him; Mike figured he just liked this way better. Mike finished getting dressed, feeling Paul's eyes on him the whole time.
"Thank you. I, uh, need to go, or I'll be late."
"Where are you meeting him?" Paul demanded. Mike considered lying, but knew Paul would check his story out. So, there was no point in lying.
"The French restaurant downtown." Paul nodded, and Mike left. Paul paced for a few moments before the thought came to mind. He found his cell and called a familiar number.

"What can I do ya for?"
"He's going to some French place downtown. Follow him for me." Paul said.
"What do I get out of it?"
"The usual." Paul hung up and smiled to himself. Whether Mike wanted to or not, he'd learn some discipline.

"A good friend keeps your secrets for you. A best friend helps you keep your own secrets."

-Lauren Oliver

They sat laughing, both red in the face. Mike was glad to be away from Paul, if only for a few hours. Their table was near the back, in a secluded corner. Well, as secluded as corners in a café could get.
"I'm up for another coffee, you?"
"You're always up for another one, Spence." Mike smiled, "And that would be lovely, thanks."
Spencer got up and made his way to the counter where baristas were filling orders. The blond man standing beside him smiled, and Spencer, trying to be pleasant, smiled back. The man, about Hotch's size, stuck out his hand.
"James." He introduced himself. Spencer shook James's hand.
"Spencer."
"Well, Spencer. Can I buy you a coffee?" Spencer noted the way James puffed out his chest, and his unwavering stare. James looked about ready to jump him.
"Actually, I'm here with someone."
"Oh, come on." James put a firm hand on Spencer's shoulder, "One won't hurt." Spencer bit his lip as a stab of pain coursed through him.
"You're hurting me. Let go, now. I'm busy, and…"
"Is there a problem here?" Mike asked, snaking his hand around Spencer's waist, "Honey, you were gone a while. I was starting to get worried." James let go, and Mike kissed Spencer's cheek. The barista handed them the coffees, and they walked back to their table together. Mike broke the silence, "Sorry about that. I know you're married, and you can fight-"They were interrupted by Mike's phone ringing. Again. Spencer exhaled. It was probably Paul. Again. The guy was calling every half-hour. Mike had ignored the last two calls, but He just wouldn't stop.
"Just turn off your phone." Spencer suggested. Mike shook his head.
"I can't do that," Mike said, "he's my training officer."
Spencer blinked rapidly, "...and your boyfriend?"
"Yeah. Bad idea, I know."
"Of course it's a bad idea. 71 percent of relationships between an employer and employee, boss and subordinate, and trainee and training officer become abusive in some way."
"Thank you for that enlightening statistic, Spence." Mike said sarcastically, "Excuse me." Mike got up and went to the restroom. He took off his sports jacket and laid it next to the sink. He then rolled up his sleeves, examining the bruises. The red had changed to a pinkish-blue. The fingers had left an impression, in stark contrast with his pale skin. Mike leaned over the sink, turned on the tap and splashed his face. Taking deep breathes, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He rushed into one of the stalls and puked. There was nothing in his stomach, just coffee and bile. He washed out his mouth and chewed six sticks of gum, just to get rid of the taste.
Keeping secrets stressed him out, being undercover was hard enough. Lying to the people he cared about was even harder. He took his coat off the basin-top and spat out his gum. He smiled before making his way over to Spencer and sitting down.
"Sorry about that."
Spencer waved it off, "No problem." It was then Mike realized he'd lost track of time.
"What time is it?" He asked, worried. He did have a curfew, and a strict one at that.
"Twenty-five past eleven. Why?"
"I need to go. Now." Mike got up and put on his jacket, "Thanks for the coffee." And ran outside. Spencer ran out after him.
"Hold on! Wait." Spencer said. Either Mike was ignoring him or couldn't hear. Spencer shouted louder. He managed to grab hold of Mike's wrist. Mike winced and stopped running. Spencer raised an eyebrow and yanked up Mike's sleeve. Spencer let out a gasp as the bruises were exposed. Mike shifted awkwardly, avoiding eye-contact.
"Look at me." Spencer said, "Did Paul do this to you?" Mike looked Spencer in the eye and nodded. There was no point in lying. What was Mike supposed to say, he fell?
"Spencer, I have to go."
"Back to him? No, there's no way I'm letting you go back to that monster."
"It's not up to you. I need to leave."
"I can't let you do that," Spencer stood his ground.
"Well, I can't be late. If you really care that much you'll let me get home before he gets mad."
"Mike. He's always going to have an excuse to get mad, to hit you, or to yell at you. Come stay with me for a while, that way, the next I see you, you won't be in the morgue."
"Relax. I'm not a victim. I can take care of myself."
"Fine, Mikey. Be stubborn, you always were, but if anything happens, if you reconsider: call me, okay?"
"I will. Thanks for the coffee. I'll see you around." Mike hopped into his Dodge Charger, and sped off down the road, praying that he got home in time to avoid Paul's wrath.

A/N: I couldn't find a correct one, so I completely made up that statistic.
Anyway, Ooohhh. Spencer found out about the abuse…What gonna happen when Mikey gets home, huh? Oh, and if anyone can tell me why I named the chapter 'Godot', then they get a prize. (I literally have no clue.)
So that's Chapter 2, stayed up till Midnight typing it up. Hope you enjoyed it. Leave a comment/review, feel free to PM if you have concerns or queries.
Thanks for reading.