I stare down at Floyd, my eyebrows arched all the way up.

“Floyd,” I begin, trying to think of how to put this delicately, “Just what the fuck-?”

“I know, I know!” He flaps his ringed hands at me, wincing. “I’m aware that I said yesterday that you can’t trust Spencer, and that he has absolutely no integrity-”

“I’m aware of that, too!” I sputter, my eyes very wide. “What happened between then and now that you’re ready to let him in on the case?”

“It's-” Floyd runs a hand over his wild silver hair, struggling for a way to explain it to me. “Just forget everything I said about him yesterday, okay? What I thought he did… I was way, way off about that. I misunderstood what was going on, I was - theorizing about something I don’t know anything about, and - just - please forget what I said.”

He looks up at me earnestly, pleadingly, and I hold my hands up.

“Hey, man, no problem! It's forgotten. And I’ll tell Aiden to forget, too.”

Floyd lets out a heavy breath, slaps my arm gratefully. “Thank you!”

“But why are we talking about letting Spencer in on the case?”

“Because...” Floyd hesitates, blinking hard, then blurts out - “Because we’re starting over, and I don’t want us keeping anything from each other. We’re not making the same mistakes again. Not this time. This time we will have our bookshop, and everything else that we-”

He cuts himself off, nibbling on his lip. I draw back sharply, a touched, surprised smile rising on my face.

I already had my suspicions about Floyd’s insistence that he didn’t care about Spencer anymore. It’s good to see that it was all bullshit, like I thought. Even something about the way they fought with each other seemed deeply warm at its core. Like they were secretly and sublimely happy to be doing it. Strange to see so much obvious mutual adoration fountain out from a situation where both people involved are shouting at each other about how demented and unhinged the other one is.

All part of their unique form of love, I think.

I’m sure the real, true anger they felt towards each other was there, too. But none of that has survived into today. I’m seeing whatever the opposite of that is, and in abundance. From both of them.

“Look, he’s a really sweet guy,” I tell Floyd, letting him hear the sincerity in my voice. “And I’m super happy that you two worked things out. Aiden and I are going to be the first customers at that bookshop, believe me. But so far as the case goes - we promised someone that our investigation wouldn’t get certain people in trouble. That means our findings can't ultimately go public. Spencer is a journalist-”

“An ex-journalist,” Floyd rushes to point out. “And believe me, if I ask him to keep what we’re doing quiet, he will. You don’t have to fill him in on everything he's missed so far, either! I can do that myself, later!”

I hesitate for a moment, trying to think through the potential problems of letting Spencer in. Oddly enough, I don’t see too many. Even if Spencer was to go off and post about this on his blog, or try to submit it to a paper… I sincerely doubt that anyone would read it, or believe him.

The thought sends an unexpected stab of distress through my heart. My mind goes to all of the brilliant writing in Spencer’s casebooks, folded away, seen and appreciated by no one. Suddenly I do feel like he should get to be in on this with us. He can’t break the story, but he could help us crack the case, and somehow I know that would mean a lot to him.

“Alright, well - listen, we don’t know him,” I answer slowly. “But you do, Floyd, and we trust you. I’ll have to go double-check if it’s okay with the others, but if you’re telling me that you’re sure we can trust him-”

“I am,” Floyd answers instantly, with complete, heartfelt conviction. “He can only help us, I promise! Besides, me and him, we - we’ve always worked better as a team.”

Everything about the way he says it tells me that he means it. I can see the bright blaze of total faith shining in his eyes, behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

“I - I completely understand if the answer is no,” he goes on slowly, dropping his gaze to the wildflowers clustered by his feet. “Really, I do. But if it is… I have to pull myself off of the case.”

I draw my head back sharply, my eyes widening. “You would be willing to give up the case, Floyd? For Spencer?”

Floyd looks up at me like he’s begging me not to make him do that. But he meets my eyes, and nods.

That's good enough for me, and something tells me that'll be good enough for the others, too.

~~~~

“So, welcome to the case, Spencer,” Aiden rumbles, leaning back into his palms on the kitchen counter. “Glad to have you on board. Normally we work at the Ghost Office, but we can show you that later.”

“Th-thank you!” Spencer beams at Aiden in baffled excitement, accepting the cup of coffee I’m offering him. “Did you say Ghost Office?”

“It’s great!” Floyd says excitedly, spooning some sugar into his mug. “You’ll love it!”

Spencer nibbles his lip anxiously, but there's a bright smile revealing itself in his eyes. I can tell from the stiff posture of his lean, lanky form that he’s having a bout of deep shyness. He looks a little bit like a nervous wreck, and faintly bewildered about being here, but in a - good way? Like he’s loving it.

Most of all he seems startled over and over again by the presence of Floyd, as if he still can’t quite believe they’re in the same room together.

“Well, I’m happy to stay here for now.” Spencer casts me and Aiden a timid smile. “Your house is very nice.”

I should have known he’d like our house, with its odd angles and mismatched everything and all the little secret places tucked into the walls, all the windows always wide open. Still, it makes me happy to hear him say it. We tend to get along with people who like our weird house.

Aiden is making himself some tea, which is just on the verge of steaming on the stove. The smell of strong coffee is in the air. The trees beyond the windows are dripping with soft golden sunlight, the scattered brilliance of the last sunbeams before dusk begins to fall. A patchwork of shadow and light falls through the kitchen, sliding over Spencer’s shoulders, which are curled in towards himself protectively.

But I think he’s slowly starting to adjust to being on the team. Or maybe the excitement of having a real case after all this time is overriding his nerves. I can see the lightning starting to crackle in his eyes, just like it is in Floyd’s.

I add some marshmallows to his coffee, like he had in his mocha when we went to see him. He watches me in surprise, then casts me a tiny, shy smile.

“We read a bunch of posts on your blog last night,” Aiden tells him, to his obvious and immediate surprise.

"You - really?”

“I loved it,” Kasey puts in, with Aiden relaying her words to Spencer. “The amount of research you do is fucking crazy. Ridiculous. Too much, even. Respect.”

“Oh.” Spencer blinks hard and fast, his eyes darting all around the room instead of looking at us. “Thank y-y-you, that’s...”

“I really liked the Stonehenge article,” I add, when he trails off. “Makes sense that people thought there had to be an extraterrestrial explanation for how those ancient people were able to quarry such massive stones. Couldn’t believe the answer turned out to be very hot fire, then very cold water, then a lot of hammering.”

“Oh, yes. No aliens, no magic, just people. The simplest answer.” Spencer gives me an apologetic look. “I guess the most boring one, too.”

“No, it’s the most incredible one out of all of them,” Floyd says enthusiastically, adding some milk to his coffee. “Human hard work and ingenuity! And look what they were able to accomplish! It took them two thousand years, but they knew that was no reason to give up!”

Spencer pauses, looking at him. The dark mahogany color of his eyes fills up with an intimate, adoring glow. Pure, undiluted love, centered completely on Floyd.

He blinks and drops his head hastily over his cup of coffee, smoothing a hand through his black and silver hair. The expression on his face makes me think he briefly forgot where he was.

“Okay, before we get into it,” Kasey begins, turning her eyes on our newest team member, “Spencer. We understand that you’re a really dedicated journalist, but this isn’t exactly the kind of thing we would issue a press release about. Whatever work you do for the Ghost Office, we need you to keep to yourself. Is that okay?”

Spencer waits until Aiden is done repeating what Kasey says, then hesitates, choosing his words. He’s only spoken in quick little bursts, so far, but they’re gradually slowing down as he starts to rest easier in the kitchen.

“When Floyd and I were journalists,” he answers, in Kasey’s approximate direction, “I would have said that we had an obligation to cover the story. But we’re not journalists anymore, so… we can pretty much do whatever the fuck we want.”

Everyone in the kitchen blinks in surprise except Floyd, who’s already grinning affectionately by the time we all let out a burst of startled laughter.

“Alright, he’s got the spirit,” Aiden rumbles, thumping Spencer’s shoulder. “Think we’ll be fine, Kasey.”

"I think so," she giggles.

Spencer is beaming happily, his surprised, fast-blinking eyes looking around at our laughing faces.

“Floyd can catch you up on everything you’ve missed so far,” Kasey goes on, already back in manager mode. “For now, we want to go through the Kemp papers.”

“We have them in the car!” Spencer says eagerly, when I'm done translating. “Is this a suitable surface for us to work on, Aiden?”

Aiden arches an eyebrow, looking down at our kitchen counter, which is scattered with coffee cups and loose tea and the materials for the sandwich I’m currently in the process of making.

“No.”

“But that’s quite alright,” Will informs Spencer, with me repeating back his words. “Jamie already has, ah - what’s the-?”

Kasey narrows her eyes at him, thinking. “Digital?”

“Yes, digital copies on his - computing - laptop,” Will finishes, then looks very proud of himself when Kasey smiles fondly at him.

"Okay, sounds good!" Spencer sets down his coffee, pulls his little notebook from his pocket, and clicks on the pen. “Can I just ask what the case is, generally?”

“It's the Botswick case,” Floyd answers.

Spencer stops still, the tip of his pen pushed into the paper. For a moment he stares down at it without moving, his unseeing eyes rounded in disbelief. Then he looks up at Floyd, shaking his head very slowly.

“Floyd,” he sighs, in a voice almost agonized with love.

“Okay, I know-”

“I should have known, based on the year of the Kemp papers and the fact that you wanted them! That case isn’t cold enough for you? You seriously haven’t given up on it yet? You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?”

“Come on, Spence!” Floyd reaches up to grasp Spencer earnestly by the arm, then uses his other hand to gesture around at the rest of us. “We can do it! We have a whole team, now! And don’t they all remind you of us, a little bit? Back when we were starry-eyed young sports, ourselves?”

“I’m over two hundred years old, gents,” Will points out, unheard by Floyd or Spencer.

“You still look awfully starry-eyed to me,” Spencer tells Floyd, his voice filled with equal measures of exasperation and adoration.

“So do you, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing!”

Spencer pauses. He was about to say something, but he closes his mouth, staring at Floyd. A slow, excited smile lights up in his eyes and starts to turn up his mouth, even as he tries to bite it back.

“Did you find something?” he asks, unable to hide the eagerness in his rough voice. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually made progress, after all this time?”

“Major inroads!” Floyd almost shouts, his volume rising in tandem with his excitement. “Dynamite progress, Spence! We’re on the path to something huge! Espionage angle confirmed, first of all-”

“Holy Jesus!" Spencer's eyes go very round. "Shut the fuck up, no goddamn way!”

“Oh yes, and we’ve got proof! We found Botswick’s log of his own activities, in his own handwriting-”

Spencer’s mouth drops open, and I hastily wave my hands at him and Floyd. “Um - guys-”

“Right, right, we need to stay on track, I’ll get you all caught up later!” Floyd pushes his glasses back up his nose and shakes out his fingers, bouncing on his feet. “I’m just - just-”

His hand flashes out and catches Spencer’s. He gives his fingers a very quick, tight squeeze, looking up at him, laughing happily a little. Then he lets him go and turns back to face the rest of us.

Spencer stops abruptly, blinking hard down at Floyd. He gives a nervous start when I start translating for Kasey again.

“Anyways, like Aiden said, welcome to the team, Spencer.” Kasey smiles at him. “We’re ghost hunters, but we only hunt ghosts for friendly reasons.”

Spencer flashes a smile her way, gesturing at her and Will. “I assumed so.”

“We need to solve this case because what we’re working on right now is making a ghost battery.”

“Okay, yep.”

Floyd lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t have any questions about that, Spence?”

Spencer blushes, tilts his face towards Floyd, and drops his voice to a whisper. “I thought it would be cooler to just roll with it.”

“You and Floyd are going to be our Painstaking Research Department,” Kasey goes on. “If that sounds good to you?”

Floyd and Spencer both nod eagerly, reaching for their coffee cups in tandem. They still look really tired, but in a nice, warm way. It’s the same kind of infinitely relieved exhaustion of someone finally coming home, after a long journey away. A deep, bright joy is shining right out from their half-open eyes.

They lean into each other a little bit as they bend forward to take a look at my open laptop.

“I’m sure we’ll find something,” Floyd says brightly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Spencer lets out a soft, affectionate laugh, already speed-reading what’s pulled up on the screen. “Nice to see that the ridiculous Floyd Little optimism hasn’t wavered.”

Floyd is also already reading, but he breaks into a huge smile, clasping Spencer’s shoulder. “Never, buddy.”

Spencer begins to smile, too, then stops abruptly when Floyd adds: “So, how’s it feel that you’re the supernatural and magic guy, but I found two ghosts before you did? Makes you look pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Goddamn you, Floyd!” Spencer snaps upright to glare down at Floyd, his volume on the rise. “I will burn your heinous bookshop down, you little-”

“Joke’s on you, you big dumb bastard!” Floyd flashes him a giant, happy grin. “It’s going to be our bookshop soon!”

Spencer stops again, breaking into a dazed, radiant smile.

He hesitates, then drops his voice to a whisper that only Floyd and I catch. “Are there really two ghosts in the room with us right now?”

Floyd shrugs his narrow shoulders, turning his eyes back to the laptop. “Anything’s possible.”

The look on Spencer’s face as he bends over the laptop again - officially back on a case with Floyd, after all this time - would indicate that he never really grasped just how true that is.