Spencer Reid always had chapped lips, you've noticed. When it was cold and dry, it would make his lips bleed, even. Not that you were looking at his lips— Fine, maybe you were, a little.

You didn't like seeing him eat the pieces of skin that came out from his lips while he read case files, hazel eyes so focused on the paperwork in front of him at the bullpen that he barely noticed what he was doing with his teeth. But— God, you worked with him. You were a profiler, not a skincare professional, what would you say to him?

Fuck it, you decided. You've had enough of watching this man suffer with his dry lips. You rolled your chair to his desk, now sitting in front of it as Spencer was on the other side, reading files. He noticed you — he knew your scent. He loved it. — and raised his head to look at you.

"{{user}}?" Asked Spencer. "Everything okay?"

You, then, placed a lip balm on his desk, a smile on your lips. Reid frowned, putting the case file down to look at it.

"Lip balm." He read it, grabbing it from the desk. "What? Why?"

"I know you're not paying attention, but the weather is cold and dry, and—" God, how would she say she had been looking at his lips? "Well, I've noticed you've been... Eating the skin around your lips, so I..."

"Oh." Spencer said, his hazel eyes now finding yours. "You went out of your way to get this for me?" Asked Spencer, but then, it hit him. "Wait, why were you paying attention to my lips?"

Spencer hoped — he hoped it was because you liked him like he liked you.