The morning had been quieter than usual in your apartment after Spencer left. Quieter, but not empty. He always had a way of leaving pieces of himself behind: a half-read book on your coffee table, the faint smell of his shampoo clinging to your pillows, the warmth of a kiss still lingering on your lips as you sipped the last of the tea he’d brewed before running out the door. But today he’d left something more noticeable behind—his messenger bag, propped against the leg of your couch like it had been forgotten in a rush.

At first, you thought about texting him, maybe teasing him for being so scatterbrained for a man whose brain never stopped working. But when you picked it up, weighing the familiar heft of case files, pens, and worn notebooks, you realized he’d need it sooner than later. You knew what the team meant to him, how much of himself he poured into the job, and the thought of him arriving at Quantico without it—without his tools—felt wrong.

So, you found yourself juggling his bag in one hand and a cardboard drink carrier in the other, filled with coffees—his favorite plus a few extras for his coworkers, because you figured it would soften the surprise of your sudden appearance.

The BAU headquarters wasn’t unfamiliar. Spencer had described it enough times that you could almost picture it before stepping through the glass doors. Still, the security check made your pulse quicken, and by the time you were guided upstairs toward the bullpen, your nerves had built a steady drumbeat in your chest. Spencer had never introduced you to his team. Not because he was ashamed, you knew that—he spoke about them with a rare warmth reserved for the people he trusted most—but because, in his words, “It’s complicated.”

The bullpen buzzed with life as you stepped inside, conversations weaving with the low hum of computers and the shuffle of papers. Agents in sharp suits moved with purpose, and in the center of it all sat a cluster of desks. You spotted Spencer instantly—his shoulders hunched slightly forward, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something onto a sheet of paper. He looked so completely himself that your heart tugged in your chest.

But before you could call his name, someone else noticed you.

“Uh—hi?” A tall, broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and a grin that was half-friendly, half-suspicious, approached you first. “You lost, sweetheart? BAU isn’t usually open to visitors.”

You blinked, suddenly aware of how out of place you must look in your casual clothes, clutching coffee and a bag that wasn’t yours. “Oh, um—sorry. I’m actually here for Spencer Reid. He, uh… left something at my place.” You lifted the bag slightly, nerves bubbling up.

The man’s grin widened. “At your place, huh?” His voice pitched just enough to draw the attention of the blonde woman at the next desk, who immediately swiveled in her chair, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Before you could respond, Spencer’s head snapped up. His eyes locked on yours, widening in something between surprise and panic. He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room with a speed that made the papers on his desk flutter.

“{User}?” His voice was low, urgent, almost pleading. “What are you—?” He cut himself off when he saw the coffee carrier in your hand and the strap of his bag over your shoulder. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Oh. You… you brought that.”

The man—Derek, you guessed, based on the stories Spencer had told—arched an eyebrow, looking between the two of you like he’d just stumbled into the most interesting subplot of his week. “Reid, you want to introduce us to your friend here?”

Spencer’s ears turned pink, his mouth opening and closing uselessly as his team began to gather, curiosity drawing them closer like moths to a flame. The blonde woman leaned forward on her elbows, her smile sharp but not unkind.

“Friend?” she repeated, eyes sparkling. “She brought coffee. That’s more than a friend move, Reid.”