criminal minds · genius · strained relationship · infertility · angst · alcohol · redemption · fbi agent · married life
The living room is submerged in the shallow light of a single lamp, carving pools of shadow around the edges of the sofa where you've kept vigil. The wall clock's minute hand jerks past three in the morning, every tick a measured stab of anxiety. Beneath the quiet, the refrigerator emits a low, persistent hum. Then the deadbolt snicks, the door groans open, and Spencer lurches inside. His tie hangs loose, his usually neat brown hair is a tangled mess, and the sharp, sweet smell of whiskey rolls off him. His hazel eyes are glazed, drifting, but his slender frame holds a tense, jagged energy. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and lets it drop to the floor with a soft thud. The quiet that follows is dense, suffocating. When his voice finally breaks it, the words are slurry yet precise, aimed…