The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 19 | Barefoot Boy

Summary: Spencer and Bunny have a discussion about socks (and a strange wedding invitation in his mailbox).

A/N: This is a bit of a "filler" chapter, meaning that it's mostly closing out/setting up arcs. Next chapter is a big one, though. I can't wait to share it with you all!

Content Warning: Mentions of bastinado(foot whipping from Revelations), canon consistent trauma, parents arguing,holidays.

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The hardest thing about dating a profiler is that they see the world in a very different way than your average layman. Spencer, for example, often saw the worst-case scenario to any situation in our daily lives. I had quickly learned that the worst-case scenario to basically everything was me being mortally wounded in a dramatic fashion.

So when I told him that I had to meet with Professor Hawkin, his first instinct was to tell me 'no.' I stopped him before he'd had the chance. Not only was the meeting mandatory, but she'd also even gone through the trouble of sending me a second and third invite when I'd taken too long to respond. The last one had included a simple note of, "I need to speak with you. You deserve an apology."

At first, I'd confronted Spencer, assuming he'd put her up to it. But I learned rather quickly that he hadn't known about any of it. He'd actually seemed genuinely angry about the whole situation.

Eventually, though, I'd talked him into letting me go (and out of waiting by the door). He gave me just a few more words of advice before he promised me that he would leave the building.

"Be strong. Don't cry. She can't hurt you, and she is not worth your tears."

I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear them until then. The mere mention of tears made them start to well up, but Spencer peppered my face with kisses until he heard laughter again. His final farewell was not advice, but encouragement.

"It's not fair you have to be strong like this," he said, and I knew he wasn't only talking about Candy. I knew exactly what he'd meant when he'd whispered, "But I know that you can."

For a while, I believed him. It wasn't until I was standing in front of her office that I realized just how nervous I was. Every thought that I'd had, every carefully planned out script evaporated the second my hand met her door handle. I could barely even hear her voice calling me in over the sound of my own heartbeat.

But once I was there, things were about as mundane as any other student meeting. Unlike what I'd expected, Professor Hawkin dove straight into reviewing coursework and discussing my paper. She'd hardly even provided a greeting before explaining that I'd passed the class with flying colors. I would've felt a bit patronized for it if it weren't for the extensive commentary she immediately provided on my topic.

It felt uneasy, but not necessarily in a bad way. There was an undercurrent of tension that we both wanted to ignore. It wasn't entirely unlike my second meeting with Max at the coffee shop.

By the end of the discussion, though, we'd both run out of words. Professor Hawkin stared at me with an open mouth and an obvious lump in her throat. I'd recognized the look as the same one she'd given Spencer when she stood at our door the last time that I'd seen her this close.

And I realized that I didn't particularly care to hear her apology. Not because I hadn't deserved one — I definitely did — but because she was clearly already so fucking miserable. For now, I decided, that would be enough. But once I stood up and grabbed my bag, her courage broke through the facade like a hairline fracture turned into a crevasse.