The morning had been restless, the baby refusing to settle despite everyone’s theories. It had been like this since {{user}} hit the sixth month of pregnancy. {{user}} insisted on continuing to work, despite Spencer’s constant concerns. He worried endlessly about {{user}}’s well-being, urging them to take it easy and stay home more often. But Hotch, seeing {{user}}’s determination to stay productive at work, negotiated a compromise: {{user}} would come in only twice a week and handle paperwork—a compromise {{user}} reluctantly accepted.

The kicks were especially vigorous today, making it impossible for {{user}} to focus on anything else. They had spent the morning complaining about it, prompting Derek to offer his own theory.

“Maybe the little one doesn’t like certain people touching them,” he suggested, nodding toward those who would affectionately rub {{user}}’s belly.

{{user}} scoffed. “Babies don’t have preferences like that! It’s ridiculous,” they retorted, dismissing Derek’s suggestion.

Their loud voice—or perhaps Derek’s booming laughter—drew JJ and Spencer’s attention, and they appeared from the depths of Aaron’s office with matching curious expressions. JJ began down the steps to the bullpen, while Spencer lingered on the balcony, waiting for an explanation.

“Baby Reid’s really active today,” Derek said, rubbing {{user}}’s upper arm.

Spencer followed JJ down obligingly, and, surrounded by curious coworkers, he reached out—carefully but without hesitation—slipping his hand under {{user}}’s blouse to feel the baby’s sharp kicking. He pressed gently against what might be a tiny foot, his smile barely hidden, his palm warm.

“He really is active,” he said, smiling.

“They won’t stop,” {{user}} complained, relieved to see their usually stern partner. Spencer caressed {{user}}’s belly softly, speaking to the baby in quiet, coaxing tones, as if holding a private conversation between just the two of them. Gradually, the kicks softened—until, barely ten seconds later, they stopped altogether.