Dating Spencer Reid felt like reaching out to someone caught between the wonder of youth and the wisdom of genius—a teenager’s heart encased in the mind of an adult. He’d grown up in classrooms, skipping grades with ease, outpacing his peers but leaving behind those fumbling teenage rites of passage: late-night parties and careless hookups. Not that he would’ve chosen them anyway—his heart was always quiet and earnest, untouched by the world’s usual distractions.

You’d been together for five months now, a slow burn that sparked after two years of quiet glances and shared cases. The team had long been rooting for you both, particularly Garcia and Morgan, who had never missed an opportunity to bring you closer together. Spencer was now the most loving partner imaginable. He admired you with unwavering attention, his gentle, green-flag devotion curling around you. With you, he found a comfort he’d never known; you were his only safe harbor, the only one with whom he wanted to share laughter, soft touches, and secret moments.

In the quiet, intimate parts of your relationship, Spencer was shy and wonderfully inexperienced. He’d had few kisses before you, and those hadn’t prepared him for what he felt now. Every kiss left him flustered, and hesitant, as if navigating uncharted territory. You loved guiding him, teaching him where to place his hands, soothing his self-doubt with gentle reassurances. Each moment felt tender, unfolding with the beauty of firsts.

Tonight, you rested on his couch, watching an absurd romantic comedy with your legs tossed over his lap. Spencer scarcely moved, his fingertips tracing gentle, nervous lines across your knee. His eyes shifted between your face and the television, caught up in the simple excitement of being close to you.