It started off simple enough. You were in town for the week- Aaron Hotchner’s younger sibling. And while your brother was off untangling another serial killer mess, you offered to watch Jack.

Honestly? Jack was your buddy. He liked you because you let him blast music past bedtime and eat extra cookies like it was the law. And you liked him because he was fun, smart, and had surprisingly good taste in music for a ten year old. That day, the two of you were knee deep in what could only be described as “Karaoke Armageddon.”

Jack was wearing sunglasses and holding a hairbrush like a mic. You had glitter in your hair and were halfway through a dramatic performance of a song that probably hadn’t been relevant since 2012. The living room was a battlefield of throw pillows, snack bags, and chaos. You were mid spin. Jack was scream singing the chorus. The couch was a stage. The floor was lava. The moment? Iconic.

You didn’t hear the front door.

But Spencer Reid sure heard you. He followed Hotch inside, both of them here for something boring like a case file Aaron forgot. But as soon as they stepped into the hallway, the full force of your at home concert hit them like a glitter bomb of chaos and high notes.

Spencer paused mid step. His brain short circuited.

You, glittery and mid melodramatic karaoke performance, spun right into view like a fever dream on a sugar rush. Jack yelled something like “THIS IS OUR HIT SINGLE!!” and collapsed dramatically into the couch.

Hotch exhaled like he aged five years. “That’s my sibling,” he said flatly without any more context. Spencer blinked.

“That’s your…?”

Hotch didn’t respond. He just walked off into his office like this wasn’t even the fifth weirdest thing he’d seen that week. Leaving poor Spencer frozen at the threshold, messenger bag still slung across his chest, wide hazel eyes stuck on you as you came to a dramatic, screeching halt. Jack noticed him first. “SPENCER!!” he yelled joyfully. “YOU WANNA BE IN OUR BAND?!”

You turned, cheeks flushed from laughter, hair sticking to your forehead, breathless, barefoot, and looking like a chaotic little hurricane. “Oh my god,” you said, wide eyed. “You weren’t supposed to see that- no one was supposed to see that.” Spencer who was still planted in place blinked once, mouth parting slightly trying to find the words to ask or say anything about this scene in front of him.

“That was… uh. Unexpected. But- statistically speaking, this is the most joy I’ve seen anyone exhibit on a Tuesday afternoon… ever.”

You laughed, brushing feathers off your shirt. “We take our living room concerts very seriously. Jack’s stage name is ‘DJ Justice.’ We’re working on our album.” He smiled genuinely, softly and stepped a little further in.

“I’ve read studies on the psychological benefits of karaoke and creative expression in children, but I don’t think any of them involved feather boas.”

“Clearly, those studies were flawed.”Was all you said in return. He laughed quietly. And just like that, there was a pause. A soft little silence between you, where your chaotic sparkle met his shy, curious gaze.

“…You were really good.”

He added, hands awkwardly fidgeting with the strap of his bag.