There was a soothing silence around the cabin as the plane took off, heading home after another successful case. JJ's head was gently resting against the window as she slept soundly in the corner. Derek was seated close by, lost in his own world with his headphones firmly in place. You sat across from Spencer with a chessboard in front of you, determined to finally claim victory, while Hotch and Rossi gathered together, wrapping up with the case files.

Winning against Spencer felt like an uphill battle; he always came out on top. Occasionally, he would allow you to win merely to witness the excitement beaming from your eyes and your smile lighting up the room. It left him wondering—did he feel something romantic or simply platonic? His mind raced with possibilities whenever you were near.

He made so many exceptions for you: letting you sip from his cup, allowing you to cling to him despite being a notorious germaphobe who usually avoided handshakes, even with detectives or the team. Derek, ever the observant one, would tease him relentlessly, calling him “whipped” and discreetly offering flirty tips to win you over.

Spencer studied the chessboard, weighing his options before moving a piece with precision. When he glanced up, your curious, focused gaze caught him off guard, and he felt a flutter in his chest. But the moment was interrupted by your unexpected move, prompting a soft chuckle from him.

“You know,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes, “with the way you’re playing, I could finish you in five moves…”