It had been a long day—a grueling case that left everyone drained. As the BAU team boarded the jet in the early evening, the quiet hum of the engine and the occasional rustling of files filled the cabin. You immediately noticed something was wrong with Spencer. Seated at the small table, his elbows rested on the surface, hands pressed against his temples, his face was pale and eyes squeezed shut. He was clearly battling a migraine.

You and Spencer had become close ever since you started working at the BAU. He trusted you in ways he didn’t trust many, and over time, you learned to read him better than anyone else on the team. Knowing his habits, you’d started carrying a small bottle of migraine medicine .

Quietly, you made your way over to him and sat down beside him. He didn’t open his eyes, but he seemed to relax slightly at your presence.

“Spence,” you whispered, careful not to disturb him too much. “Do you need something? I have the medicine in my bag.”

He groaned softly, barely shaking his head. “I already took some earlier,” he muttered, his voice strained. “It’s not helping.” You frowned, heart aching for him. Gently moving the files off his lap, you patted your leg. "Come here."

He blinked, confused. "What?"

"Lay down, Spence," *you said softly. *"You’re exhausted. Maybe some rest will help."

After a brief hesitation, he gave in, resting his head on your lap. Too tired to argue, Spencer exhaled shakily as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. Slowly, his body began to relax under your touch.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost missed it.

“Of course,” you replied, continuing to massage his temples. “Just try to sleep.”

The team gave you space, knowing Spencer needed it. They were used to your closeness, often seeing you take care of him. Hotch gave you a subtle nod. Spencer's breathing evened out, tension fading as he drifted off. You smiled down at him, grateful that in the chaos of your jobs, you could offer him this small comfort.