White Lies ✓

17 - The Devil On His Shoulder

*Spencer's POV*

Spencer stood at his mailbox, retrieving the many different small-town newspapers he'd subscribed to over the years. He was doing this when something caught his eye. 

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked the strange man hesitating at Y/N's door. 

"Er, I'm picking up my date," he said. "Do you know her?" 

Spencer nodded. "We work together. FBI." 

The man nodded nervously as Spencer stared him down. A few moments passed in awkward silence before the apartment door swung open. There Y/N stood, in a little plaid dress. SPencer's breath half caught in his chest as he saw her. She looked, well, she looked beautiful. 

"What's going on?" She said quietly, smiling at her date before glaring at Spencer. 

"You know him?" 

"Yeah, he's my date. What's it to you?" She moved aside, letting the man onto her apartment. 

"A date?" 

"A date," she repeated. "Don't you have a book to read or something? Get out of here."

Spencer's stare hardened as he spun on his heel and stomped up the stairs. 

"A date, a date? With that guy?" He mumbled quietly as he went back to his apartment. 

He pushed open the door and flopped down on the couch, feeling strange. He knew he shouldn't feel this jealous, but something about seeing another man here to pick up Y/N made his blood run cold. She didn't even like him, he didn't even like her, and yet, he was furious. Spencer pulled his copy of The Slynx out of the bag of new books from the bookstore. He flopped down on the couch and started to read. Normally, he'd power through a book this short in a few hours, but having to interpret the Russian slowed him down. He was about halfway through when his brain registered the commotion downstairs. 

What the fuck was that?

Spencer set his book down and sat up, listening hard. He realized what was going on. 

Oh fuck.

He picked up his book and tried to ignore it, but she was so loud. He set his book back down and stood up. He stomped on the floor, but there was no change. He groaned and walked into his kitchen.

Did someone just say princess?

 It was more muffled in here, so he sat on the countertop and sipped a glass of water, waiting for the end of this awkward torture. He resorted to flipping through the never used cookbook his aunt had sent him last Christmas as he waited. Finally, the sounds quieted, but Spencer thought he could fuck with her a little bit. He hopped off the counter and started downstairs. 

"Spencer?" Y/N answered the door. She stood wearing a big black t-shirt, and presumably nothing else. Her hair was tangled and her makeup was smudged, but she looked pretty, even with the mascara streaks on her cheeks. 

He crossed his arms. "Look, I get it, you're having fun or whatever, but could you try to not have unnecessarily loud sex directly under my living room? I'm trying to read."

Y/N blushed profusely. "Oh shit, sorry about that."

He flashed her a wicked grin. "Just, keep it down please, I mean, I know how responsive you are but the whole building doesn't need to hear it."

She gasped. "Spencer! Shut up."

He turned and started back up the stairs. "See you later, princess," he joked.