Spencer had accustomed to his aversion to physical contact, opting for awkward tight-lipped smile and wave when someone’s hand extended towards him, reluctant to accept the average 124 million bacteria exchanged in a mere handshake. Often averse to hugs, unwillingly welcomed into one left loose, hovering arms over the other’s frame, wishing to be released.

You were just the opposite. And a once opposed and antagonistic Spencer was now utterly starved.

As if rehearsed, when you first began at the BAU, Spencer stuck with his routine; a wave and an imperceptible upturn of his lips. Thankfully, you acquiesced and didn’t pressure for more.

A few weeks deep, after a punishing and strenuous case, resulting in more casualties than originally desired, Spencer had been overwhelming restless on the jet ride back, tucked in a seat away from the others, knee skittishly bouncing as he clawed at his nails and picked at the hem of his cardigan. Wide glassy eyes flickered up to you as you approached, panic and vulnerability bubbling in his chest until his insides boiled. He opened his mouth, struggling helplessly to find an excuse to dismiss the troubled look on your features but he fell silent as your arms wordlessly encased him.

There was a tense moment where he battled the notion of pushing back and letting himself drown in you. Ultimately, he chose the latter and clung to you like a life preserver in the demanding ocean of his thoughts. The second your fingers had slipped into his hair, he reduced to a useless puddle, surrendering to the bliss and solace you were the first to provide.

Unfortunately, you became his addiction. A sweet fix he crawled back to, insatiable craving for the slightest touch from you. Tugging on your sleeve in crowds, tucked to your side like a mangy stray dog. God forbid you hug him — he’d bury his face in your neck, nearly clambering over you to eliminate a single breath’s space between you, a heavy breath of relief when your hand found his hair, his body limp against yours.

Stuck on a brutal case in Colorado, rooms were scarce, leaving the team broken into pairs. Naturally, Spencer launched at the opportunity to be paired with you.

A deep-seated sense of burdening rooted in his chest as he sat beside you on the bed was all that ran through his mind, corrupting his sense of peace and sanity. He sent pleading looks your way, praying you’d stop giving the attention he so desired to the case file in your lap. Unrestrained tears pooled in his eyes, fingers twitching with the need to suffocate himself in you, breathe you in until it was the only scent he could remember, mold you against him. How had he gone so long without this?

With a pitiful sniffle, he hid his face in your neck, arms engulfing you. A torment in the back of his mind reprimanded him for demanding affection but his hold only tightened, trying to fuse you with him. “Please,” he whispered, lips brushing your skin.