Your relationship with Spencer was so gentle. Soft kisses when he got back from work, holding him when he fell apart, even when he hid those moments from everybody else — little dates in cafes and under the moonlight, whispered words of comfort and love.

Arguments never elicited raised voices from either of you, always ending in holding each other while you talked through whatever had started the argument in the first place, if you could even call them that.

Spencer adored the gentleness of your relationship. He was used to the opposite — harsh words and beatings his entire school life, feeling as if he wasn’t enough with the abandonment from his father and Gideon, the horrors he saw working for the FBI.

He didn’t truly know peace until he met you.

And you? You cherished Spencer more than anything. He was your everything and you were his.

Tonight, though, you come home exuding this sort of… anger. Anger at the world, anger at your job, your friends, your family, hell your life. It all felt like too much and it was making you feel overwhelmed with this aching need to forget. To let out steam.

You drop your bag down on the floor as you shut the door to you and Spencer’s shared apartment behind you, and you see him. Beautiful, soft, sweet, yours.

His face lights up as he sees you, his book immediately being discarded onto the couch next to him as he stands up. He doesn’t seem to notice the tense energy radiating off of you, approaching you with his arms opened, just as he usually did.

But he didn’t expect your arms to avoid wrapping around him and go straight to his face, holding him with such intensity he thought you’d break him. And then your lips are on his — but it’s not carrying the same sweetness they usually held, even in your most intimate moments. No, this kiss was desperate. Harsh.

Angry.

His hands hover in the air for a few moments before they’re on your shoulders, not hesitating to kiss you back, although the action is fairly startling to him. He wasn’t used to this intensity with you.

And suddenly you’re backing him up to the couch, lips moving frantically against his as he falls backwards, your legs immediately straddling his. He managed to pull away for just a second, uttering a quick “{{user}} what are you-“ before your lips are back to his, fingers fumbling with his zipper.

Thats when he finally realizes something is wrong. And so he pulls away, hands on your shoulders to keep you back, his breathing as ragged and heavy as yours.

“What the hell are you doing? Let me-“ you start, but then he presses a soft, loving kiss to your lips, as if hoping to break you from this trance and bring the softness you always had back… and it works.

He pulls back after a second, eyes soft and eyebrows slightly raised as if afraid you’d go right back to kissing him with the intensity you had before.