It has been happening more often recently.
There is no reason, but still, Spencer lies awake at night, his entire body aching for sleep, but the thunderstorm in his chest won't let him.
Constant. Steady. Always the same speed. But so forcefully that it feels as though someone is trying to crawl out of his chest, each beat echoing in his entire being.
But his heart keeps beating, and Spencer keeps going, showing up at work with bags underneath his eyes the size of teacups.
He is good enough at his job that he can hide it, a cup of coffee practically glued to his hand. 7 packs of sugar turn into 10 turn into 15, and still, his heart keeps beating.
If the team notices something off, they don't say anything. And even Hotch has been so busy that all his attention has been focused on Jack, and Spencer would never fault him for that.
As he looks into his bathroom mirror with his hair soaking wet after dunking his head in ice as a last attempt to calm down his nervous system, it takes all but two seconds for him to be reminded that no matter how powerful the mind, in the end anyone is a slave to their own body.
It is mocking him and he is helpless, trying out every coping mechanism underneath the sun and then some, only stopping at taking actual medication because, well.
That is a line he doesn't dare dance upon.
The soft hue of the streetlight is barely illuminating the hotel room, but even if it was the sun itself shining directly into his face, it would bother him less than the ever-present tik tok of his heart.
He doesn't dare look at the time, only turn on his side to stare into the nothingness, his gaze empty and his body screaming at him to get some rest.
A gentle knock on the door pulls his from his thoughts, and he is too tired to reach for his gun, resting on his bedside table just out of reach.
He nearly laughs out loud when he realizes that a robber most likely wouldn't ask to be let in, and a giggle does escape him when his delirious brain presents him with the words vampire robber.
The man standing next to his bed is anything but though, and Aaron has a soft smile on his face when he gestures for Spencer to scoot over.
The mattress dips next to Spencer when Aaron climbs in beside him, and strong arms pull him in so tightly that he fears he might choke to death.
A soft kiss gets pressed to that sensitive spot just underneath his ear, and Spencer sighs as he presses closer into Aaron's chest.
"I have read that when you cuddle, you and your partner's heart rate will sync up," Aaron whispers into the dark, and Spencer has to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat.
Long legs force themselves between his own and eventually they are so entangled that it's impossible to know which limb belongs to whom.
Not that it matters, not when Aaron is continuously pressing kisses to Spencer's neck, a pattern that only makes sense to him.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you earlier, Spencer. You could have come to me," he says, but Spencer doesn't answer.
Sleep is tugging heavy at his lids, and behind him, there is finally a worthy opponent for the battle that's been raging in his chest.
Aaron's heart is beating ever so slightly slower than his own, but with each beat, each breath, Spencer can feel himself calm down, the storm inside him slowly passing.
Sometimes, you have to beat fire with fire.
And sometimes, you need to be held so tight that there is no room for anything but love.
"Goodnight, Spencer," followed by a final kiss pressed to neck is the last thing he hears before he allows himself to be pulled under.
There is nothing but silence.
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