Spencer Reid was a disaster around you.

Not in the charming, boy-genius way he usually fumbled through conversations — no, this was pathetic. The way he hovered just a little too close when you talked. The way his hands trembled slightly when you brushed against him. The way he lit up when you said his name, like it was some rare privilege. You were older. You carried yourself like someone who’d seen everything twice and had no time for bullshit. And that only made it worse. He adored you. Revered you. Fantasized about being someone you’d actually choose.

Once, you caught him staring — again — and raised a brow. “You good, Reid?”

He nodded too fast. “Yes. No. I mean — I just… I like your—uh—your insight. On cases. Professionally. Not that you’re not personally insightful, I just—”

You set your coffee down slowly. “Spence.”

He froze.

“You’ve been looking at me like a kicked puppy for weeks. Just spit it out.”

“I like you,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “Way too much.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just walked over, tilted his chin up with maddening gentleness, and looked into those frantic, desperate eyes. And God help him — he almost whimpered.