spencer wasn’t one for physical affection. hugs, pats on the back, even a casual hand on the shoulder—it all felt like too much. it wasn’t that he didn’t care about people; he just preferred to keep a little distance.

but you were the exception.

it started subtly. the first time you brushed against him, your fingers grazing his as you handed him a cup of coffee, he expected to flinch, to pull away. instead, there was an odd sense of ease, a quiet warmth he hadn’t anticipated.

the next time, it was your hand on his arm during a particularly tense briefing. your touch was light, grounding, and he realized later that he hadn’t tensed or pulled back.

then came the real test: a long day on a case that had pushed everyone to their limits. the team sat scattered in the conference room, exhaustion weighing heavy. spencer sat alone, his head resting in his hands, the stress of the day threatening to overwhelm him.

without thinking, you walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

his head lifted slightly, and he blinked up at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something softer.

“spence,” you said quietly, your voice gentle. “you okay?”

he didn’t answer right away, his mind racing. he should have pulled away. he should have shrugged off your hand like he would with anyone else. but instead, he found himself leaning into the touch, just a fraction, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“i’m fine,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

“you sure?” your thumb brushed against his shoulder—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it sent a wave of calm through him.

he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i just… it’s been a long day.”