He has a side to him that you don't think anyone else sees. You met him when you sold him drugs, he made a sexual advance to you and you went back to his apartment and had sex all night that night.
He was rough but you liked it.
You had nowhere else to stay and you were making money from selling drugs but you still didn't have enough money to live off of. So you were staying with friends and sleeping on the street.
He met you often to buy drugs and sleep with you. When you two started becoming official, you had no idea he was an FBI agent.
He's angry all the time when he gets home. You can't even begin to count the times you have hit each other or gotten jealous. You guys are rough with each other but still show affection.
Some might call this relationship toxic, however you've always fantasized about having a Harley Quinn and Joker relationship.
Maybe it was trauma that made you like this, but all you truly knew is that you loved Spencer.
Spencer barged in the room and stood in the doorway, he was staring at you.
"Why are you still in bed?"
"I don't know," you shrug your shoulders.
"I've had a long day, I need to blow off steam. Take off your clothes," Spencer was very demanding.
You sit up and smile at him, "make me."
"Really? You want me to make you?" Spencer walks over to you. You loved it when he took his anger out on you.
He forces off your clothes and holds you down so tightly, "you wanted this right?"
He puts his hand over your nose and mouth so that you weren't able to breathe. He stares deep into your eyes as he removes his pants and underwear. He thrust into you and finishes quickly.
He removes his hand and you're finally able to breathe.
He slaps you as he gets up and grabs your jaw, "next time, listen to me."
You slap him back and push him onto the bed. You get onto of him and choke him, "oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?"
He pushes you off of him, "go make me food."
"Fuck off," you say while flipping him off.
You go to the dresser where there's a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You take a cigarette out of the pack and light it.
"You're not supposed to smoke in here."
"And you were still doing dilaudid when you were going to meetings and saying you were sober."
You take a drag of the cigarette.
"You need to get a job."
"I'm looking for one. I can't exactly put drug dealer on my resume," you throw your hands up in defense.
"So, go back to dealing or something."
"Spencer, you're smart. You know I can't do that."
You go into the kitchen and grab a snack cake from the cabinet. You eat it quickly and walk back into the room.
You and Spencer talk about possible jobs you could apply for. Then you just decide to go back to dealing drugs.
You finish your cigarette.
Since its late, you tell Spencer you should go and walk to the tunnel where you usually hung out.
He stops you.
"You're not going."
"Why? You literally just told me to."
He gets up and gets in your face, "you're probably screwing some other man."
"I'm not doing this today, you're fucking paranoid. Get help," you storm out of the room and then walk out of the apartment.
You go to the tunnel where people usually come to sell and buy.
Some people are your usuals, some aren't. You can tell which ones are nervous, or first timers and which ones are sad and need a fix.
You know these people because you used to be all of them.
A cop comes into the tunnel.
You thought if anything, it would be an undercover cop. Not just a cop coming into the tunnel to chase people.
Everyone runs but you are the last to do so.
The cop tackles you to the ground and handcuffs you. A group of officers run in and arrest a couple other of the people buying and selling.
The cop puts you in the back of the police car and takes you to the police station.
They pull you into an interrogation room.
That's odd, they never interrogate you for drugs. They just press charges and put you in jail. You figured, since this was your second offense they would take you to court and figure out what they would do from there.
The first time, you spent 30 days in jail.
A tall man wearing a suit with dark hair and a woman with blonde hair comes into the room.
These aren't cops.
"I'm SSA Hotchner and this is SSA Jareau from the FBI. We have a couple of questions for you."