"Sorry. Sorry, I should've looked." You mumbled out, then cleared your throat, forcing yourself to speak again and not sound like a weak mouse. "My apologies."

"No worries. You're, uh, new here, right? First day?"

You looked up. The man in front of you was tall, almost lanky, with his tie and dress shirt peeking out his sweater collar. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veiny arms on display, and he was looking at you with a tiny smile.

"It's normal." He continued without waiting for you to reply. "Reported that at least 50% of new hires in any workplace get mishaps on the first day. That can be fixed with a tour guide. I can help you around."

You blinked. You weren't used to a man offering to help you before you even said anything; especially not with your dating history of douchebags and idiots.

"That…would be great. Thanks." You attempted a smile, holding out a hand for a shake. The man just ignored it with a little wave instead, saying; "I'm Spencer."

Disregarding the lack of contact, you followed behind him as he showed you around the office. He showed you meeting rooms, facilities like printers or bathrooms, and finally, your own desk. It was conviently just a few rows down from his own. The space was empty, and he gestured to it with one hand.

"I'm sure you'll decorate it as pretty as you look."

You hardly had time to process the compliment before he smiled awkwardly and backed away, turning around to head down a hallway.

Well. This would be more interesting than you thought.

Location: The BAU printing room. Time: 2:12pm.

While you waited for papers to print, you got time to think.

It was simple, really. All the things others called bare minimum were legendary in your world; you were lucky for a boyfriend to even touch you at night, let alone get flowers or plan dates or notice little details without words. You had settled for guys doing drugs at parties, guys with fake jobs, guys that weren't smart or funny. None had ended well, and while you (and your closest friends) could have deducted that at your first meeting, you had stuck to him with a I-can-fix-him attitude.

Yeah. You could admit you were a bit too hopeful sometimes.

You needed standards. Expectations that your boyfriend will do the same things your friend's boyfriends did. Expectations that he won't be an asshole that'll just leave you in the dirt as soon as a prettier girl slided up next to him at a bar.

What you had started doing, though, after five months as part of the BAU team, was to keep a list. Not of cases or to-dos, but of every time Spencer did something like that. No, you weren't dating, nor would you let yourself think you had a crush on him. But he was doing more sweet things as a coworker-friend than some six month long relationships had.

As of now, you counted four things. The time you didn't want to interrupt at a group meeting, so he let you whisper your idea in his ear and he spoke it out, crediting you afterwards. The time he left a bouquet of flowers on your desk with a note that read as a new decoration. The time he read his science book to you when you couldn't sleep on a plane ride home, enunciating softly so you could hear each word in that nerdy voice of his. The time he brought coffee for you, exactly the way you liked it despite you having never told him explicitly what you liked.

In between the more memorable services, he found ways to slip more kindness in every day interactions. He never spoke much after he did these acts for you, just giving you the same smile you'd grown so fond of or a little finger brush that made you shiver each time.

The printer dinged. It had finished. As you collected your papers, you heard a voice behind you that you instantly recognized;

"What'cha working on?" Spencer asked, going past you to get to the coffee machine in the corner. He placed his mug down, going for a refill as he kept his gaze on you. You loved that about him; when he talked to you, he talked to you directly, like he wanted to hear your response.

"Some papers for Hotch." You replied easily. You found it easy to talk to him — and the rest of the team — now that you had been at the BAU for a few months now. Other than long cases, you were used to the hustle every day; and you woke up every morning excited to see Spencer again. He really had an effect on you.

Spencer nodded, taking a sip of his now finished coffee. "What are they about?"

Through his questions and curious gaze, you ended up talking to him for at least fifteen minutes, the two of you slowly inching closer and closer like magnets until you were standing side by side in the printing room. Spencer had read over your papers with his usual quick speed, and while you started talking about work, you ended up talking more about your own lives.

He had told you about a few of his published research papers, and you were excited to get home and read them. You had told him about all your extracurriculars in college, and he seemed interested about what you were interested in. You talked about what you thought your lives would look like in ten years, and you had to bite back the urge to say something about how you hoped Spencer was still in yours.

There was a loud knock on the door, and you could tell it was Hotch wanting the papers. You laughed quietly, just for Spencer, collecting all the sheets and heading out the door.

With your back turned, you didn't see how he kept looking at you while you left.

Location: The BAU business jet. Time: 11:54pm.

Everybody on the plane was asleep except for two people; you, and Spencer.

You were sitting side by side, as you now usually did. Penelope had noticed it first, how close you two had gotten over the year you had been at the BAU, and then everybody else caught on. You weren't a hundred percent sure if that was because of how you acted or because of Penelope's love for gossip, but now it wasn't a secret how close Spencer and you were.

Spencer was reading a book, flipping pages so quickly you could barely read a full paragraph before it was onto the next.

"Slow down." You murmured softly, your elbow propped up on the armrest between your seats, leaning over to look down at the book. You laughed quietly to not wake up the rest of the team asleep in their spots. "It's almost scary how fast you read."

"You think I'm scary?" Spencer whispered back, and you turned your head to look at him. Underestimating the closeness, your lips nearly brushed his as you met his eyes. Neither of you moved.

"I think you're lovely." You replied whole-heartedly, which got you a small smile.

You turned your head back to his book when you knew he wouldn't actually reply. He never really did after you tried to compliment him, and it wasn't annoying; no, it was just another trait you loved about him.

Liked. You liked about him. Where did that come from?

The problem was that it was late, almost midnight, and you still had a few hours until you landed back in Quantico. After a long day and a bumpy start to the ride, you were feeling tired. You dropped your head on Spencer's shoulder, barely noticing his freezing as your eyes drifted close.

You felt one of his hands come up to the side of your head, gentle fingers brushing through your hair, and you let out a sleepy hum of contentment.

You weren't sure if it was Spencer's lips or a slight breeze that grazed your forehead, but you knew what you were wishing it was.

Location: Brenna's Bar, downtown Virginia. Time: 10:32pm.

You hadn't meant to get drunk. You really hadn't. And if you thought about it hard enough, you weren't that wasted; enough to stumble a little as you moved on the dancefloor, but not enough to not register what Penelope or Derek were saying.

Despite it being a work celebration after a long case, you had dressed up cute, pinning your hair up and slipping into a short dress and heels, and you felt pretty. While applying your makeup before leaving, maybe you had thought once or twice about Spencer's reaction to seeing you.

To your disappointment, he just gave you the same smile and sat down a few seats away. No jaw drop, no heart eyes, and you knew it was childish to feel that way, but you couldn't stop it. Not after spending so long with kind and gentle touches and acts and feelings, not after everything Spencer had done for you under a friendship label. Friends didn't do what you two did.

At least, that's what you said to get yourself to sleep at night.

You were dancing now, the pink and purple lights reflecting off the disco ball and your shimmery dress. You were up with JJ and Penelope while the guys sipped their drinks on their stools or talked about whatever guy things they talked about. You were too tipsy to care, too tipsy to notice Spencer's subtle glances to you, too tipsy to see Morgan punch his shoulder with a teasing grin.

You wanted to show off. It was a Friday night, and you hadn't been with anybody in ages, not since before you joined the BAU. You were desperate to get Spencer off your mind, which was why you were moving so energetically next to JJ and Penelope's bodies, not really paying attention to anything other than the pounding of your heart.

You felt a pair of hands slip over your hips and waist, and craning your head over your shoulder, you saw the guy that stood behind you, swaying along. His body was tall and chiseled, his lips curved into a smirk with light stubble growing on his chin. He was hot enough, and his hands were warm and confident, nothing like Spencer's soft and tentative touches. He whispered something in your ear. You didn't hear it.

If you squinted enough, you saw Spencer in his features.

And then you actually did see Spencer, as he had gotten up from his stool and stormed over, pulling the man's hands off your waist. You hardly had time to gasp before he reached for your wrist, pulling you away to the back exit.

When you felt the cold night air hit your face, you exploded.

"What the fuck, Spencer?! I spent months trying to be confident and flirty and get you to want me, but you never do. I never stop thinking about you, as much as I fucking hate it. As soon as I think I can get some sort of distraction and be with somebody who wants me, even for just a night, you storm in and act like I'm a cheating whore!"

"I never said that." Spencer cut in, running a hand through his hair.

"I never said you did!" You pushed his chest, too drunk to filter the words coming out of your mouth. "But you sure are making me feel like one! Did any little thing you ever did mean shit to you, or am I just losing my fucking mind?"

"What do you want me to say? That I'm in love with you? Because I am, and that doesn't change anything!"

It took a minute to process his last words. Because I am. He was in love with you. You weren't crazy, you weren't making things up to satisfy your own desires.

You deflated. "You…you are?"

Spencer let out a long sigh, turning his head away, down the allyway to the street. "…yes. And seeing you with some random person just…I don't know."

Wow. Spencer never didn't know things. He was the smart one, the nerdy one, the one who never shut up about science or math or miscellaneous facts. You had never heard the words "I don't know" come out of his mouth, ever.

"Can you do something about it?" You asked quietly over the cool wind breezing through the alley.

"I think I should now, huh?"

Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 11:06pm.

It didn't take too much time to get to his place.

You had gotten a taxi, and the two of you barely sat restrained in the back, the only connection being your hands laced together. You kept glancing over at Spencer, your head starting to clear ever so slightly from the lack of new drinks, though you knew you were still a bit tipsy.

The second the door closed behind you, he was kissing you.

It was all consuming now; the way he pressed you to the door, the way you could feel his body heat through layers of clothes, the way his lips moved so desperately against yours like he had wanted to act on his feelings for months, just like you had. Your hands came up to thread through his hair while his own hands laid hesitantly on your waist, careful not to touch skin.

You broke your lips apart just enough to murmur out a; "Touch me, Spencer."

You could feel him swallow harshly, gently prying you off the door and taking you further into the living room. He laid you down on the couch softly, as if all the desperate pent-up desire he had back in the allyway fizzled out now that he actually had you under him. You could still see the want in his eyes, the hunger, but you could also see the sweet man you had fallen in love with so many months ago.

Love. That was a big word, yet no word felt so right.

"We can't. We shouldn't." Spencer whispered. You were laying down on the couch, and he hovered over you, legs bracketing your hips and propping himself on his elbows beside your head so he didn't crush you under him.

"Why not?" You asked, tilting your head up, chasing his lips.

He sat up fully, delicately pushing your shoulders down to the soft cushions. "You're drunk. Or tipsy. I don't know how many drinks you had, and that's what makes me nervous. You aren't in your right mind as of now."

You huffed. You really thought this was going somewhere. "What does that mean? Are you kicking me out?" "No, god no." Spencer reached one hand down to brush over your hair. "Just…wait until the morning. See if you still feel the same way, then we can do everything you want to."

Location: Spencer's apartment. Time: 8:48am.

Sunlight poured in from the windows.

The breeze of the air conditioning wafted through the house.

You were being pushed into the mattress.

Spencer never stopped being gentle with you; when you woke up, he had tucked your hair behind your ear. When you said you wanted to do the same thing you wanted last night, he had just nodded and kissed you deeply.

Now, the same hands that barely grazed yours months ago was holding your waist down to the mattress as he thrusted in and out of you with gentle purpose, eyes locked on your face to watch your expression for any twitch of discomfort or — god forbid — pain. He wanted to make you feel good, as good as you could feel with a hangover, and while you pulled at the nape of his neck and moaned out his name, all he did was smile and kiss you again.

"Love you." He whispered against your lips. You knew he did, you knew he fit all your expectations, from the day you met and he showed you around the headquarters to just last night at the bar.

It wasn't possible to say anything else. "I love you too."