Spencer Reid had officially decided: early morning case briefings were the worst. Especially when it was raining.

The steady tap of water against the BAU's windows made it nearly impossible to stay awake. He cradled a lukewarm cup of coffee in his hands, willing it to work its magic, but so far it was a losing battle. The gloomy, wet landscape outside didn't help either—gray skies blending into gray streets, the whole world looking washed out and half-asleep.

The team buzzed through the morning briefing faster than usual, the details of the case rolling out in quick succession. Before Spencer had fully processed it, they were boarding the jet, files tucked under their arms and exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.

Spencer sighed softly as he settled into a seat across from you, setting his file down and trying to shake off the fog in his brain. His fingers flipped absently through pages as he scanned the basics—blonde women were disappearing across D.C., their bodies found later... without their heads.

Looking up from his file, he caught a glimpse of you on the other side of the table, your expression calm as you studied the graphic crime scene photos. In your hand, casually, was an apple—and you took a cheerful bite out of it without so much as flinching at the blood and horror staring back at you from the images.

Spencer blinked. Then huffed out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.

"I'm truly astounded every time I see you eating while going through crime scene photos," he said, his voice low and a little scratchy from lack of sleep.

He leaned across the table, reaching for his to-go coffee cup. His fingers brushed yours briefly as he pulled it closer, and he felt an unexpected jolt of warmth that had nothing to do with the caffeine.

"Your compartmentalization skills," he added with a small smile, "are honestly off the charts."