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Spencer’s alarm doesn’t go off this morning. He finds out he didn’t set it last night when he rolls over top of Remy to reach his phone before its ringing can wake his boyfriend up. Rolling over him seems to do the job anyway, though.


“Up for another round, Penny?” Remy asks with a sleep-soft voice and his eyes still closed. He wraps a gentle hand around Spencer’s thigh.


He ignores Remy and gets to his phone. “Hello?”


“Pretty Boy, where the hell are you? Is everything okay? I texted you, like, five times,” Morgan says. From his tone, Spencer can see in his mind’s eye Derek’s exact posture and facial features all reading concern and worry. He’s never late.


“Shit, what time is it?” He glances at the wall clock before Morgan can answer. Well past when he should already be settled in at his desk. “My alarm didn’t go off. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”


Derek’s laugh doesn’t make him feel any better. “Oh, I see how it is. Someone sounds like they’ve had a rough night. I expect deeetails!”


Spencer hangs the phone up on him. He knows this is his own fault for forgetting to set his alarm, but he’s blaming Remy instead. He’s the one that showed up at his apartment last night, unannounced, disrupting Spencer’s nightly routine--including setting his damn alarm. He climbs off of Remy with no grace whatsoever and scrambles to find some clothes.


“I’m blaming you for this,” Spencer huffs while trying to find the matching sock to the purple one in his hand.


“Y’ act like you weren’t just as eager as moi last night,” Remy counters with a smirk.


Everything about him is exuding smugness: his legs spread wide as he lounges on the bed with the sheet barely covering any of him; the hickies a purpling, stark contrast on his hip to the muted color of the bedding; his hair tousled and a little frizzy with the most attractive form of bedhead Spencer’s ever witnessed. He doesn’t know if he wants to throw a pillow at his boyfriend or climb back in bed for a morning to match the night they had together.


“Penny, y’r starin’. Don’t you ‘ave somewhere y’ need to be?” He chooses the pillow.


It takes five extra minutes, a few extra kisses, and Remy stopping Spencer from leaving the house half-dressed by throwing a shirt in his face. He quickly slips it on, throws a kiss over his shoulder, and rushes down the steps so fast he nearly fell. He doesn’t need a black eye on top of the rest of his morning. Derek’s sure to give him a hard time when he finally gets to his desk.


The subway seems slower than usual, though Spencer knows that’s just because he’s in a hurry. At least there are less people trying to jam into the train since it’s past rush hour. Okay, his morning has two perks: Remy’s in his bed and less bustling in his hustling than normal. He can salvage today, especially if when he gets home his boyfriend is still there.


He joins the team in the conference room without any coffee in his system. It takes him a moment to realize everyone is looking at him as he settles into his usual chair and fiddles with the strap of his bag slung over the back instead of acknowledging their looks.


“Nice shirt. Never thought red could be your color, but I’ve been wrong before,” Rossi says with his warm, teasing half-smile.


Spencer’s heart drops. He didn’t look closely at the clothes Remy tossed at him to help him out the door. He’s sitting at the BAU wearing one of Remy’s shirts: a red button down stretched in the arms from Remy’s muscles. Spencer clears his throat, tucking his hair behind his ear.


“Uh, thanks? I guess,” he says awkwardly.


Garcia walks in with files before he has the chance to put his foot in his mouth. From Derek’s wiggling eyebrows, he knows this isn’t going to be dropped.


“Crime fighters, we’ve got ourselves a sad one today,” she starts off, flicking a photo of a young girl up on the screen. “Two dead…,” Garcia starts off, turning away from the monitor as the images pop up of the specifics. She explains the case and what they’re getting into before Hotch gives them their assignments. They’re not to interfere with the investigation. Local PD just wants their eyes to get them started since they already have a few suspects in custody. One being a parolee. They disburse and Spencer hones in on getting a proper cup of coffee before calling the prison.


He blinks the tiredness from his eyes as he swings by his desk to swipe his mug--a TARDIS shaped one Remy got him on a whim about a year ago. He picks it up in a fluid motion, not fully stopping and continues on to the coffee pot, at least until he runs into something. Spencer stumbles back.


“Where’s the fire?” Derek asks.


“Just coffee,” he answers, raising up the mug and moves to go past him. Derek shifts to block his path. “I’m not going far. There’s nothing stopping you from following me across the room, but do not get in between me and caffeine today.”


Derek lets him pass as he laughs and jogs to his side. “Late night, huh buddy?”


Spencer rolls his eyes letting his focus fall on his personal store of sweetner instead of Derek’s waggling eyebrows. He elbows him when he puts down the sugar.


“Come on. I always tell you about my fun.”


“And when did I ever ask for those details, Morgan?” Spencer snaps back with more humor than anger in his words. Try as he might, he knows his friend is just trying to learn more about his life and maybe tease him a bit. Derek doesn’t mean anything negative.


Spencer sighs while he stirs his coffee. “You have to promise this doesn’t reach anyone . Nobody can know about this…” Derek’s eyes widen.


“You dog! And I won’t say a thing. Scout’s honor.” He raises his hand in a little salute. Spencer reaches out to lower his hand. He feels like he’s dealing with a child.


He takes a moment to consider his options. Nobody knows about Remy in his life aside from his mother, but even she doesn’t know his name. By keeping him all to himself, Spencer...well, doesn’t want to admit it’s because of how his past relationships have ended, but it’ll be quiet obvious once he opens his mouth about it all. No point dragging it out.


“My boyfriend surprised me at home last night. He was supposed to be gone on a mission for another month, but as I’m cooking dinner sure enough the fucker picks my lock and swings the door open with the biggest grin,” Spencer whispers past his growing smile.


“What?!” Morgan hisses out as quietly as he can. “He broke in? And what kinda mission? He an agent?”


Spencer turns and leans his hip against the counter, taking a long sip from his mug. “He’s not one of ours, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s against regulation.”


“Pretty Boy, you have been holding out on me! I need to know eeeeverything. You got a picture of the guy anywhere?” Derek asks. He claps Spencer on the shoulder in pride.


“When I say no one can know, I don’t think you understand how serious I am about that.”


“Hey, you can trust me, man. If it’s that serious, I don’t want you shouldering all that with nobody to talk about it with.”


He leads Derek over to his desk and pulls up the mutant database. Derek’s gaze his burning a hole in the back of his neck, but Spencer doesn’t give so much as a glance. He pulls up the X-Men file. He clicks through a few of the photos until he finds the right one. Gambit’s standing on the wreckage of a building while carrying a kid with a broken leg.


Spencer spins in his chair to look at his best friend, who for once in his life is absolutely speechless. He can’t help the smirk forming on his lips. He quickly closes the file and waits for Derek to reboot.


“You--you’re with…” Derek sputters out. He nods, waiting for him to actually form a sentence. He pulls him up a chair. “Spencer, how did this even happen? D-Does he treat you right? I don’t mean to judge, but the guy’s a criminal.”


“We both know that being a mutant shouldn’t be a crime.”


“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. If that’s who I think it is, he’s got a long line of feds after his ass, which should include you,” Derek says more in disbelief than concern. He knows Spencer can take care of himself, but damn.


“You wanna give me the older brother warning or do you want to hear about how my night went?” Spencer asks over the rim of his mug.


Derek shakes his head with a smile. “So, he broke in. Then what?”