Although he is no stranger to waking in hotel rooms thanks to work, what is unique about this morning is that Spencer is actually on vacation. Instead of a budget government paid hotel room, he's stretched out on what feels like the world's softest sheets in a cottage so close to the beach he can hear the waves faintly through the open window next to the bed. The only glitch to his morning is that he's alone in the cozy bed, so he eases the sheet back and follows his nose to the small kitchen.
"I thought this was going to be a lazy vacation," he says, when he sees Jay standing at the tiny, two-burner cook-top that is all their vacation rental offers aside from a microwave. It had been a deliberate choice, considering the small seaside town has plenty of quaint cafes and restaurants for them to spoil themselves at. "And how on earth did you find eggs?"
Jay just shrugs, smiling softly over his shoulder as he neatly flips the omelet in his pan. He's already dressed for the day in loose linen pants and a mint green v-neck shirt that leaves plenty of tanned skin on display for Spencer to admire. "Our host handed off a welcome basket when I slipped out to the car to bring our bags in."
They'd had a flight delay that meant they'd arrived at the cottage hours later than expected, and it had just felt easier to bring the essentials inside last night. Spencer isn't surprised that Jay got up before him. Sleeping in isn't something that Spencer gets to do often, and this morning had been a well-deserved luxury of extra rest.
"Anything I can do to help?" He isn't as skilled as Jay in the kitchen, but he likes to putter around when he can.
"I haven't started the coffee yet. Figured grinding the beans would wake you."
True enough. Spencer is surprised he managed to sleep through the door opening and shutting, but he supposes it's his brain's way of telling him that he's completely safe when Jay is around. His partner might not be law enforcement, but Jay still moves with the economy of movement Spencer finds common among ex-military who were dead serious about their time in the service.
He pauses long enough to brush a kiss along Jay's cheek just above the line of his beard, thrilling a little at the pleased smile the tiny gesture of affection wins from Jay even three years into their relationship. While the contents of the omelets and the fresh fruit he sees are definitely gifts from their host, the coffee and grinder were essential vacation gear that came with them all the way from home. All those years that he dumped mounds of sugar into the cheap flavored water that passed as coffee have given way after living with Jay, who treats coffee-making like science. He unwraps the Chemex from its careful packaging when he's done, glad to see that the kettle taking up the second burner is just coming to a whistle.
Getting through the ritual of making the coffee keeps him busy while Jay finishes a second omelet before peeling and slicing a cantaloupe to add to a bowl. Jay leads the way to the small two-seater dining table on the porch that overlooks the water, and when Spencer follows with their coffee, he pauses to enjoy the breeze coming in off the water for a moment, letting his eyes slide closed. When he opens them, Jay is seated but watching him, expression both affectionate and amused.
"For a desert boy, you sure seem to gravitate toward the ocean. Maybe we should have slept out here."
Spencer laughs, setting down the coffee mugs carefully before draping his arms around Jay's wide shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple this time. Jay is overdue for a haircut, and his curls are at the stage he grumbling calls wildman but Spencer just flat out adores running his fingers through. He's rather suspicious that habit is why Jay regularly gets 'too busy' to visit the barber.
"There's something about the immensity of all that water that soothes my mind somehow."
Jay makes an understanding noise, and for once, Spencer knows without a doubt that someone understands. His partner may not be a genius on the level that isolated Spencer his entire life, but he has no problem keeping up with Spencer's interests and research jaunts. Tilting his head up, Jay smiles at Spencer and reaches up to tug Spencer around into his lap. The maneuver is a novelty Spencer never expected to enjoy, but the extra couple of inches of height Jay has on him make it a comfortable fit.
"Our food will get cold."
"I'm sure you can figure out a way that we can eat it now."
It takes Spencer a moment to make the connection, and he blushes a little and reaches for a chunk of cantaloupe. The juice is slick on his fingers as he offers it to Jay, who manages to press a kiss to Spencer's fingertips after taking a bite. Encouraged, Spencer nibbles on his own piece, leaning into the comfort of Jay's hand caressing his back under his shirt. They finish off the cantaloupe before Spencer snags one of the plates, opting for the fork to share the omelet between them. There's an intimacy to the act of not just sharing the plate, but of Spencer feeding his partner, and he finds it settles a heat into his bones that goes far beyond simple lustful interest in his partner.
He knows he's in love with Jay, has been certain of that fact from the moment of their third date when he realized Jay wasn't humoring Spencer's academic leaning choices for their dates, but fascinated by them as well. They still maintain separate lives to an extent, partly due to their separately demanding careers, but also by Spencer's choice. Living together-merging their personal space completely-intimidates him in a way that few things do the older he gets. His age always kept him separate from others in college and early adult life; he'd never even been allowed a roommate at college. As much as Jay seems to accept and even admire his eccentricities, Spencer worries that it will be just too much once it is a day-in, day-out exposure to them.
But here in this moment, with the warmth of the Gulf soaking into him on one side and Jay's familiar, solid bulk against his other, he feels all those fears just evaporate under the sheer depth of love and contentment he sees on Jay's face. Jay isn't looking anywhere else, not even at the gorgeous beach beyond their cozy space. He's just focused on Spencer as if Spencer is the most precious point in the world.
"Marry me." It comes out rough and husky, deep-voiced in a way that sounds more like Jay's baritone than Spencer's tenor, but the sheer need Spencer suddenly has to make sure that Jay knows Spencer wants moments like this for the rest of their lives is overwhelming.
Jay's answer isn't verbal, and Spencer never before imagined himself as enacting any of the scenes from the romantic movies Garcia adores, but he doesn't need words in reply when he's being carried back to their recently abandoned bed and being covered in urgent, wonder-struck kisses. Spencer will take the heated and awed, "Jesus Christ, I love you, Spence," over a simple yes any day.
He can still hear the waves, the siren's song of the deep ocean calling to him, but the steady thud of Jay's heartbeat under his ear is far more enduring than anything else he'll ever find that calms the constant buzz of his eager brain. This is the true siren's song… a heart well and truly in love with all of Spencer, just as he is.