In all truthfulness, Spencer was embarrassed, He had gotten himself shot while on a case. After much instruction to stay out of it, he spoke to a hysterical parent who pulled a gun on him. Spencer had no bad feelings towards them, he couldn't begin to imagine what losing a child could do to someone.

Early that morning, Spencer had been discharged from the hospital. It only took a week of him begging and filling every new nurse or doctor that entered his room with facts for it to happen. Per instructions, he was sent home with someone. You.

Your apartment had room for him to stay for a few days along with a few pets to keep him company. Spencer would have to complain about your lack of sweet treats, though. It had been a few hours since he was discharged.

Spencer walks over and stands beside you, looking over your shoulder as you make them dinner. He had been very clingy- apparently, some meds make people act like children in constant need of affection and attention.

He places a hand softly over his right side, bandages under his shirt. He was still sore from the aforementioned wound. "That looks really good." He hums, resting against the counter with a smile.