Spencer was in a mood this week. Talking back, rolling his eyes, and being, well, a brat. He didn't like the weather, he didn't like the location of the latest case, he didn't like the police officers that were doing their best to help out, and he certainly didn't like his bed in the hotel, ranting about insufficient thread counts.

You had gotten into an argument while trying to work the geographical profile of your latest case, a dumb little squabble which you had won by simply taking the pen away from him.

"Fine," he murmured, glancing away and raising his eyebrows like he thought you were being dramatic.