Spencer leaned back in his seat and attempted not to scream in agony. His eyes burned and stung like he'd never experienced. Tears trickled underneath his eyelids. His lashes were sticking together. He'd barely been able to dress, call his doctor, and find a cab.

When he finally arrived at the clinic, he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief his mother once owned before - he pushed those thoughts away, paid the cabby, and stumbled up to the door.

He'd been lucky, he thought, as he lay on his sofa three hours later. He'd been seen quickly, and the doctor had given him eye drops that worked swiftly to relieve his symptoms. He decided that miracles might be possible. The relief allowed him to take the train home.

Spencer stretched out on his sofa after returning from the pharmacy. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and greeted the woman, who answered with a weary. "Hi, JJ, I – "

"Spence," she interrupted. "You okay? Hotch said you called out sick. Something about your eyes."

"Yeah, I just got home. I have a nasty eye infection."

"You must be sick if you're not spouting out the full Latin name of your disease," JJ teased, but Spencer heard the relief in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll tell you all about it later."

"Babe, I'm sorry that happened. What can I do?"

"Thanks for worrying, JJ. I've got my prescription and will take a long nap."

"Wish I could ditch work and help you."

"No! The team needs you. I'm fine, I promise."

"Can't help worrying about you, Spence."

"Thanks. The drops the doctor put in my eyes are helping already. The bad news is, I won't be able to wear contacts for a few weeks."

"Nice, I like your glasses."

Spencer smiled. "Thanks, JJ."

"I mean it."

"I know. I can hear it in your voice."

"Cute. I'll leave you alone now, but I will come after work. We don't have a case out of town, so I can bring you something from "The Indian Pearl."

"You don't –"

"I know I don't," JJ insisted. "I'll see you around six, okay."

"I would like to see you. Thanks, JJ."

"You're welcome, Spence. See you soon."

CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM

"Don't argue with me," JJ ordered when Spencer protested their positions.

"JJ, I –"

"I promise you won't be sorry."

He blew out a breath and leaned back on the sofa. They'd finished their food with a glass of iced water for him and wine for JJ. She'd cajoled him into accepting what she called "her famous head massage."

JJ sat on one of the kitchen chairs behind the sofa, thus their argument. Spencer thought it was too awkward, and JJ informed him that trying to sit next to him would be worse.

After a few seconds, he forgot about his objections as her hands kneaded his scalp. Little tingles spread from the touch of her fingertips, and the pain creeping around the top of his head began to recede.

"Hm…"

"You like that?"

"Yeah."

"Good, told you."

"Um, hm."

Spencer was too relaxed to care about winning their fight. It was enough that her hands massaged his head down to his neck and shoulders. She seemed to know exactly how much pressure to exert.

"Did you know," he began in a low, slow tone that verged on slurring. "That there're no pain receptors in the brain. We get headaches from the receptors in the scalp."

JJ chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulders. "You sound drunk. Maybe I better stop."

"No," he reached back and caught her hands. "Two more minutes, please."

"Okay, but if you fall asleep, I'm leaving."

"I promise."

Spencer broke his promise after about thirty seconds. He didn't feel JJ lower him to the sofa, pull off his slippers, and drag a throw blanket around him. He didn't realize she kissed him and said. "Sleep, babe. I'll call you tomorrow."