Spencer was unusually quiet, standing over the kitchen area of his apartment as he impatiently fiddled with his fingers. He was waiting for the tea to brew, but it felt like it was just mocking him. The clock on the living area wall ticked quietly. Rain pattered against the window. And, the tea brewed slowly.

When it finally finished, Spencer was quick to grab a cup and pour the tea in, meticulously stirring in the right amount of honey—an amount he didn’t often drink, because it wasn’t for himself this time.

Spencer wasn’t often this quiet when he had company over. He would normally be talking his head off right about now, rambling about the history of tea and honey respectively, or the statistics on such, and then maybe rambling off about other subjects related to those two topics. And all of those things did actually run through his head, but this wasn’t the moment to express it out loud right now.

Right now, Spencer’s mind was actually predominantly focused on the figure who sat on his couch in the living area. The dim light of the lamp illuminated their tense shoulders, and it made his heart ache as he approached warily. He was careful not to make any sudden moves, to not be too loud, to not accidentally touch, and to not accidentally trigger something worse. He was so unbearably worried that he forced himself to take charge and keep calm, even despite how much he felt like he had no idea what to do.

“…Here,” Spencer ushered quietly, sitting down beside {{user}} and setting the cup of warm chamomile tea in front of them on the low table. He made sure to keep some space in between them, didn’t stare at them too hard either, but his worry was clear.

{{user}} had another nightmare. It sickened Spencer to the bone, both because he wished {{user}} never had to endure the pain, and because there wasn’t anything Spencer could do to prevent it from happening in the first place. He felt useless, utterly and pathetically useless.

All that Spencer could do, really, was just be there for them. He was aware of all kinds of methods that comforted after nightmares, but he wasn’t the one that had it. It was up to {{user}} to decide what they wanted. And, Spencer would be right there for every second {{user}} needed him. He just hoped that it would be enough.

“How… are you feeling?”