5 Times Spencer Lets Reader Touch Him, and the 1 Time He Touches Her First
She notices it before anyone else does.
Spencer is standing beside the conference room table, reading through the case file while everyone else gathers around. His tie is slightly crooked, his collar folded underneath itself on one side.
She stares at it for a few seconds before deciding she can't leave it like that.
His hand automatically goes to his neck. "What about it?"
"It's—" She gestures vaguely. "Here."
He tries to fix it himself, but somehow only makes it worse.
It's such a small question, but she watches his expression change as he processes what she's asking.
Most people at the BAU have learned not to touch Spencer without warning. She has, too.
He looks at her hand, then back at her face.
Her fingers gently catch the edge of his collar and straighten it. She smooths the fabric beneath his tie, careful and quick, making sure not to linger.
Spencer goes completely still.
He can feel every tiny movement of her fingertips against his neck.
"There," she says softly. "Better."
His voice comes out quieter than he intended.
She smiles at him before turning back toward the table.
He spends the rest of the meeting trying very hard not to think about the warmth of her fingers against his skin.
2. She brushes something from his hair.
They're sitting in the jet.
Spencer has been reading for the past forty minutes, one leg tucked underneath him while the rest of the team talks quietly around him.
He doesn't notice her watching him.
There's a tiny piece of paper caught in his hair.
She reaches toward him instinctively before remembering.
He looks up from his book.
"You have something in your hair."
He feels around for it and completely misses.
She reaches over and carefully plucks the tiny piece of paper from his hair.
Her fingertips brush his temple in the process.
Spencer's breath catches.
She pulls her hand back immediately.
She holds up the little scrap of paper between two fingers.
Spencer looks back down at his book.
He reads the same sentence six times.
Not dangerous for them, exactly, but difficult.
Too many things that can't be fixed.
They're sitting in the back of the SUV while the others are inside the precinct.
Spencer's knee is bouncing.
She looks down at it before looking back at him.
He gives her a small smile.
"I've been told I'm not particularly good at appearing fine."
Her hand settles over his.
Spencer stops breathing for a second.
She doesn't say anything.
She simply leaves her hand there.
He looks down at their hands.
Instead, his fingers slowly relax beneath hers.
She gives his hand one gentle squeeze.
"I'm here," she whispers.
Something warm settles in his chest.
His thumb moves slightly beneath her palm.
It's not quite a squeeze back.
That's what makes it so startling.
They've just gotten back from a case.
Spencer is standing near the elevators, staring blankly at the numbers above the doors when she walks over.
He gives her a tired smile.
She looks at him for a moment.
Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around him.
Every thought disappears.
Her arms are around his shoulders, her cheek against his chest.
He doesn't know what he's supposed to do.
After a few seconds, she starts to pull away.
"Sorry. I should've asked—"
He hadn't meant to interrupt her so quickly.
"I mean..." He swallows. "You don't have to apologize."
A tiny smile appears on her face.
Spencer immediately misses the warmth of her.
The elevator doors begin to close.
He catches them with his hand.
She looks at him curiously.
He steps inside beside her.
His heart is still racing.
She finds him sitting at his desk, pale and glassy-eyed, staring at the same page for nearly five minutes.
"I'm aware that my appearance isn't always—"
She reaches out and places the back of her hand against his forehead.
He goes completely silent.
Her palm is cool against his skin.
She leaves her hand there for another second.
Spencer's eyes flutter shut.
It's such a simple thing.
Someone touching him without expecting anything in return.
When she finally pulls her hand away, his eyes open again.
Spencer doesn't know why he stopped her.
He just knows that he didn't want the moment to end yet.
"Could you..." He struggles to find the words.
"Could you do that again?"
Her palm settles against his forehead once more.
The 1 time Spencer touches her first.
Spencer has seen her cry before.
She had hidden it well enough that no one else noticed.
This time, she isn't hiding it.
She's sitting alone in the conference room after everyone else has gone home.
Spencer finds her by accident.
She immediately wipes her cheeks.
She lets out a tiny, broken laugh.
"Maybe it's a good line."
She looks down at her hands.
He doesn't ask what happened.
She clearly doesn't want to talk about it.
Instead, he stands there.
"You can go home, Spencer."
Her eyes fill with tears again.
And something inside him twists.
He remembers every time she touched him.
Her fingers straightening his collar.
Her palm against his forehead.
Every single time, she had given him the choice.
So now he makes a choice of his own.
Spencer slowly walks toward her.
He stops beside her chair.
His hand hovers in the air.
For once, he doesn't overthink it.
He gently places his hand over hers.
His fingers are trembling slightly.
He turns his hand beneath hers, carefully threading his fingers through her own.
She stares at their hands.
Spencer gives her the smallest smile.
"I don't know if this helps."
Her eyes fill with fresh tears.
She leans her head against his shoulder.
Spencer stiffens for half a second.
He tilts his head gently against hers.
Neither of them says anything.
For once, Spencer doesn't feel the need to fill the silence.
His thumb slowly brushes over the back of her hand.
And he realizes something.
He isn't afraid of touching her.
He's only ever been afraid of being touched because he didn't know what people wanted from him.
She just wants him there.
And, for the first time, he wants to be there too.
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