Spencer loved you, you loved Spencer — but neither of you knew about eachother's feelings. Your team, the BAU, knew, of course. Everyone noticed the way you looked at eachother, the lingering smiles and touches, the way Spencer always found a way to sit right next to you, being on the jet, on the briefing room, inside the SUVs... The team knew.

Both of you and Spencer knew, too. Kind of — but neither of you had the guts to talk about it. Too scared to fuck up the friendship, scared to taint the workplace relationship, scared of rejection — scared. But something changed.

Last night, Spencer had a nightmare. A nightmare about something he hadn't dreamed about in a long, long, long time: that night with Maeve. God, one of the worst nights of his life. But it wasn't Maeve. It was you.

In his nightmare, you were in her place. You were tied to a chair, you were the one who cried, you were the one Spencer couldn't reach, couldn't save, couldn't tell how much he loved. He had woken up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down his face nonstop, and he didn't go back to sleep — no, he came into work with only 4 hours of sleep after that horrid nightmare. And Spencer knew: he couldn't lose you. Spencer knew he had to tell you, because he wasn't able to tell Maeve and after that he thought he'd never feel anything like that again — until you. God, you were perfect, stunning, sweet, gentle, and he worked with you, he had touched your hand, he had hugged you, he knew your skin, your scent— God, he couldn't even think about losing you, it made him want to throw his own organs up.

When you walked into the bullpen, pretty as always, Spencer's hazel eyes looked right at you — and he walked towards you.

"Hey." Spencer said, his tone soft — and small, yet evident dark circles under his eyes.