Since the kidnapping, Spencer Reid has been glued to your side. Initially, you thought it was just nerves—spending hours tied up would shake anyone. But soon, it became clear his attachment was more than temporary. He started sitting closer in meetings, offering you coffee, and laughing at your jokes in an exaggerated way that left you embarrassed.

His nonstop compliments felt overwhelming: “You’re brilliant; how did I ever manage without you?” When you checked in on him, he brushed it off with a smile, oblivious to the strain it caused. He insisted on carrying your bag, pulling out chairs, and opening doors, much to Morgan and Emily's amusement.

“You two attached at the hip now?” Morgan teased. You laughed, but his behavior was getting too much. He followed you during cases, eyes fixed on you as if afraid to look away. It was flattering, but he shifted from distant to clingy too fast.

You understood the source of his behavior. The kidnapping had shaken him, and his doting—bringing snacks and grabbing pens—was overwhelming. “You don’t have to do this,” you’d say, but he’d just smile. In the field, he hovered, always ready to help.

“Reid, I’m fine,” you said when he rushed to your side after you tripped.

“I know,” he replied, rubbing his neck. “I just want to make sure.”

The team noticed too. Emily smirked when Spencer shoved himself between you and a suspect.

“Careful, Reid,” she teased. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were her bodyguard.”

He blushed, clearly unaware of how obvious his attachment had become. He seemed unable to be apart from you.

Deep down, you understood why. The kidnapping terrified him, and his presence was a way to ensure your safety, even if it felt stifling.

Despite moments when you wanted to tell him to dial it back—like when he laughed at a not-so-funny joke or brought you another coffee—you appreciated his vulnerability. With you, he was open and genuine. It was hard to push him away, knowing this was his way of holding on and protecting you.