Sometimes it's more than friendship
"I'm sorry, we're closed— ahh, hey, Spencer!"
Lesley smiled as he bustled past with an armful of dishes. The last couple of customers had left the diner and Lesley only had the dishes left to do before he could close up and go home.
"Can you flip over the sign and lock the door?" He called out as he entered the kitchen. He let the sink fill with hot water as he scraped off the plates.
He heard Spencer shuffling into the kitchen and Lesley flashed him another smile before he put the dishes in the sink and started washing them. "Want to help me dry them?"
"Sure." Spencer stepped up at Lesley's side and even though Spencer didn't touch him, Lesley felt his body tingle just from him being so close. It always did whenever he was in proximity to Spencer. It could be problematic at times when they were working together, especially when it was just the two of them.
Still, Lesley thought they worked rather good together. For every fork and knife and plate he washed, he handed it off to Spencer who dried it and willingly took the next item to be handed to him.
"I was wondering," Spencer started, "if I could stay with you tonight?"
Lesley's movements stilled and he turned his head to properly look at Spencer. He was sporting a red scrape on his cheekbone and the beginning of a black eye. "Spence …" Lesley hated seeing Spencer like this and he sadly did way to often. "Of course you can stay with me. You know you always can."
A brief grin flitted across Spencer's face, but he did not face Lesley. He kept drying the plate. "Thanks, mate."
Lesley itched to reach out and touch him, but his hands were submerged in hot water, and he wasn't sure if Spencer would appreciate it. "Who was it this time? Your mum or your dad?" Lesley quickened his speed with the last dishes.
"Dearest daddy." The sarcasm in Spencer's voice was loud and clear. Lesley really didn't like to hear it. He didn't like seeing Spencer hurt or hearing Spencer's pain, which was usually covered by sarcasm.
Lesley handed over the last plate and dried off his hands. While Spencer dried it thoroughly, Lesley headed into the back room to get the first aid kit Harriet always kept stocked.
Spencer looked at it as Lesley put it on the counter, then his eyes flickered up to meet Lesley's. Spencer's eyes were hazel and normally they held such warmth, but now they were a shade darker than normal and shuttered. Lesley did not like it.
Lesley flipped open the kit and dabbed some antiseptic on a piece of cotton. He turned back to Spencer, who was done drying now and had turned to rest his hip against the counter. Lesley stepped closer and gently pressed the cotton to Spencer's cheek.
He could feel the warmth from Spencer's body. If he moved even an inch closer, they'd be pressed up against each other. Lesley almost didn't dare breathe.
"You don't have to do this." Spencer's voice was low, his breath wafting over Lesley's cheek. Lesley shivered and his fingers trembles slightly as he dabbed the cotton against his cheek a couple of more times until he was sure the scratch was clean.
"I want to," Lesley whispered as he stepped back to throw the cotton away and grab a small sticking plaster that would cover the scrape. "I don't like to see you hurt." Lesley reached up without thinking and just barely let his index finger touch the tender skin under his eye that was starting to colour.
Spencer flinched slightly, which broke Lesley out of his reverie. He blinked out of it and stepped back, away from Spencer's distracting self. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"It's okay," Spencer interrupted his apology. He took a step forward, closer to Lesley and grabbed a hold of Lesley's wrist. His thumb stroked lightly over Lesley's palm. "I don't mind you touching me."