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The breeze was soft on your skin as you stepped out of the SUV. Emily yawned behind you, bee lining for the hotel like she was about to reunite with a star-crossed lover.
You, on the other hand weren't as eager to get back to the squeaky mattress that awaited you in your room. Instead, you turned your gaze to the night sky, craning your neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of a star.
The town you had been called into for the case wasn't nearly as polluted by street lights and neon as cities usually were, so you lingered, taking a few steps away from the bright motel lights in the hopes of finding those tiny specks shimmering in the dark.
Oblivious to the soft steps behind you, you trailed off to a nearby park – barely a hundred square yards of grass, ornamented with four pitiful trees and a sad wooden bench that had seen too many sharp instruments – and settled onto the bench, eyes never leaving the darkness, in fear of missing anything.
Slowly, cautiously, as if afraid of disturbing your peaceful contemplation, Spencer stepped closer until he stood just a few feet from your side. His eyes trailed upwards, but his pupils hadn't yet attuned to the lighting, and so he found the sky empty.
His voice was soft, careful as he looked back at your figure perched upon the bench.
"May I ?"
Regardless of his efforts to avoid startling you, a gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, the words tearing your eyes away from the void above.
"Spence– Sorry, I didn't– I hadn't noticed– Of course–" you stammered, blessing the night for covering the sudden pigmentation of your face.
He bit his cheek to keep his smile at bay, and nodded as he crossed the few feet that separated you. When he sat down, he made sure to be far enough that no contact ensued, but you noticed that he was still close enough for his warmth to seep into your side.
The silence settled again, soft and soothing, a sharp contrast to the maddening blaring of sirens or the incessant ringing of phones in the police precinct. Those were moments that made you feel like it was okay to breathe again.
So you did.
A slow, steady breath in through your nose, as if absorbing the atmosphere of the night, and a soft release of air as your shoulders lowered gently.
Spencer risked a glance your way, his honeyed eyes attentive to the rise and fall of your chest, to the loosening tension in your brow. The case had been rough. Most were, but this one had made you physically recoil from its atrocity.
Children.
It was often the cases involving children that got to agents the most. No matter their background, their identity or how long they'd been in the field. No agent ever left unaffected after a case like this.
He'd seen it throughout the last few days. The way your shoulders never seemed to relax. The way your jaw tightened every time you swallowed. The way you'd held onto the palm sized plush that Penelope had gifted you after you'd commented on its cute embroidered expression.
But Spencer knew not to ask. He knew that you were desperately clinging onto anything that could put your mind to rest, even for a mere couple of minutes. So he indulged you, his gaze finding the not-so-empty night sky.
His voice was just loud enough to not qualify as a whisper, "Do you know any constellations ?" he asked, though he knew the answer already.
"The basic ones. The ones my dad knew about," you simply said, before raising a hand to point above, a gesture rendered useless for he who couldn't see through your eyes, "Ursa major over there, which means the little dipper is..." you followed the trail of your own finger, "There."
He hummed, "Any others ?"
Skimming the sky, you searched for the other cosmic sketches you used to identify as a child, but came up empty.
"Can't find Cassiopeia" you admitted quietly.
"It's right there," Spencer scooted an inch closer, gently guiding your outstretched arm toward the area of interest, "do you see it ? Like Ursa major, it's visible year-round"
Squinting, you searched for the W shape in the void, and just as you were about to give up, the specks shone at you like you'd called to them.
"I see it" you whispered, your voice taking on the secrecy of a child discovering the wide open sky for the first time and hoping it doesn't fall.
He smiled softly at the wonder in your eyes, "Do you want to know about other ones ?"
Your immediate nod left no room for doubt as Spencer searched through the encyclopedia in his mind to deliver on his offer.
"If you look right above the building over there," he pointed, tilting his head slightly, "you'll see the constellation of Hydra. It's currently the largest pattern of stars observed from Earth, taking up a bit more than 3% of the night sky. It's about 1,303 square degrees and is made up of 283 stars,"
"Jesus," you breathed, the reaction making his lips tug into a gentle smile.
"Yeah. It's huge, and from the northern hemisphere, it's especially visible in April, so, we're in luck"
A chuckle escaped you, and Spencer fought the urge to chase that sound with endless more facts and useless information.
"Tell me about another," you requested softly just as he was ruling that he shouldn't ramble on until you couldn't stand it anymore.
"Oh–" he drew his feet under the bench to anchor himself as he felt the buzz settle behind his ribs, "Well, over there, just between those two trees, is Virgo. It's mostly visible in may, but you can still see it here. It's only a little smaller than Hydra – if you consider anything in outer space to qualify as a little smaller in terms of scale – but it's about 1,294 square degrees, and is made up of 169 stars–"
"You used that term with Hydra as well, but what's a square degree ? Is it like... the scale in reference to a sphere ?" you cut in. Just as you're about to apologize for interrupting, he answered as if nothing could've bothered him less.
"Yes– it's a non-SI unit measure of solid angle. So it's exactly that, it's the volume version of the degrees unit used for circles." he explained without missing a beat, and once he seemed satisfied with the understanding in your eyes, he continued.
"In Greek mythology, Virgo represents Persephone, queen of the underworld and daughter of Demeter, goddess of–"
"Harvest and fertility. I might not be very well versed in the stars, I hold up pretty well in the realm of mythology, Spence." you flashed him a grin and his eyes crinkled with his own.
"Right. Well, my rambling doesn't exactly cater to each audience," his shoulder bumped against yours, and you wondered if the contact was intentional, "but I'll try to keep that in mind."
"How amiable," you rolled your eyes playfully before adding, "another one ?"
Spencer gave you a patient peer review of each constellation he found in the emptiness overhead, and you listened attentively, your eyes following the soothing narration of his voice as he told you all about the different scientific researches, the origin of each constellation's name.
Without either of you noticing – or maybe without either of you pointing it out, afraid of breaking the gentle atmosphere of the moment – your head had found rest against his shoulder, relieving your neck from some of its tension. His voice was a quiet constant in your ear, his breath caressing your cheek with an infectious softness.
You only realized your eyes had closed when his voice faltered and quieted, his hand carefully cupping your elbow.
He called your name once or twice. Maybe three time, the lull of his voice a harmless weapon to your slumber.
Your eyes fluttered open only when his fingers brushed some hair from your cheek.
"Hey," he whispered, "you fell asleep."
You rubbed a hand over your face and shook your head in a halfhearted denial, "S' just resting my eyes. Keep telling me about the stars." you hummed, voice heavy with exhaustion.
Spencer chuckled, the sound of his amusement making you grumble softly, "I think you've had enough star-facts for today. We should both get some sleep."
Groaning in quiet reluctance, you sat back up, the motion encouraging enough to get the young doctor to his feet.
"Come on. The stars will still be there tomorrow." he whispered playfully, though the words soothed you more than anything else could have.
The stars will still be there tomorrow. The earth will still be turning, and your team will keep on chasing the ones who made you need such simple things to cling onto sanity.
Spencer, ever the gentleman, extended a hand to help you up, and you curled your fingers around his as you stood. If he had any objection to you holding onto him on your way to the motel, he didn't utter a word of it.
After walking you to your room, he bid you goodnight, and before you closed the door, you called to him quietly. He turned immediately, his eyes a silent question as you fiddled with the handle.
"You'll still be there tomorrow too," you said quietly, not quite a question, but not quite a statement either. You felt as if the stars could never shine as brightly as when he was there to see them too.
He paused for a moment, examining your expression, before whispering, a quiet promise.
"I'll be there."