“Angel, stop it!” Spencer whined, grabbing yet another tissue to try and futilely wipe away the lipstick stain you left on his cheek. His cheeks were already flushed as is and the smudged lipstick smeared along his face wasn’t his case.

You and Spencer stood in his bathroom, his phone ringing incessantly in the background, a nagging reminder of their need to get to the BAU. Unfortunately for him, he was covered in red kiss marks, some of which lined along just above the collar of his shirt, coloring the pale canvas of his neck. Now he was desperately trying to scrub away the stains left by you, too embarrassed to go to work covered in your lipstick.

“You know we have to go,” Spencer pleaded, his voice carrying underlying hints of fondness despite his feigned annoyance. Truth was, he craved that sort of affection from you, just not when he’d make a fool of himself in front of the team — knowing he’d receive nothing short of endless torment from Morgan. So he kept trying (and failing) to scrub his face clean, wiping away the traces of your kiss despite his want to leave them there.

“Morgan’ll have a field day when he sees this,” he mumbled bitterly, shooting you a faux glare through the mirror as he made another pitiful attempt to clean the red splotches from his skin. “You know I’ll never hear the end of this, baby.”