It had been two weeks since Spencer had spoken to you. Two weeks since the last case. Two weeks since the two of you had gone undercover as a married couple.

The operation had gone smoother than anyone had anticipated. Spencer had heard bits and pieces about your history with undercover work—enough to know you were skilled—but watching you in action that night was something else entirely. You’d played the role so convincingly, with every smile, touch, and laugh perfectly in tune, that even he had started to believe it.

Spencer had always acknowledged your attractiveness—objectively, of course. It was a quality that undoubtedly gave you an edge in certain situations, especially undercover assignments. But something shifted during that mission. Sitting close to you, feeling the warmth of your hand under the table, hearing you murmur sweet nothings into his ear that made his stomach flip—it all felt a little too real.

And that was the problem.

Since then, Spencer had been avoiding you like the plague. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself, but the way his thoughts kept circling back to that night left him uneasy. You weren’t just his colleague anymore; you were the person he couldn’t stop thinking about. So he stopped looking at you during briefings, avoided sitting near you on the jet, and ignored your enthusiastic retelling of the latest animal video you’d stumbled upon.

His mind felt compromised, like someone had toyed with it, and his only solution was distance.

It was a Friday night when you finally cornered him. Spencer was out with a few team members, nursing a drink and trying to act normal. He didn’t notice you following him outside until your touch on his shoulder made him freeze.

“{{user}},” he blurted awkwardly, before he could stop himself. He blinked, heat rushing to his face as he inwardly cursed himself.