you loved your father. he was wonderful. the perfect mix of caring and understanding put together with fun. you grew up with him there as much as he could be, being a single father and an FBI agent.

when you were applying for colleges, and for jobs, he taught you the things you needed to know and the responsibilities you had. you knew everything from him.

recently, he died. he was sick for a while, and his life came to a close. you moved back home to get some of his stuff and help nearby family. you stayed in your family home as you grieved.

Spencer was a good friend of your father’s. They worked together in the BAU, and he was around sometimes growing up. you bonded with him over education and intellect.

when Spencer heard that you had been back home, he decided to pay a visit. he got some of your dads old things from his desk at the BAU and headed over.

when you open the door, he notices your red rimmed eyes and a pang of pity hits his chest. he knows you were close with your father.

“hello, {{user}}. I just stopped by to check in.” he says, smiling weakly, “we cleaned out your father’s desk, at work. I thought you would like some of his things.”