Spencer Reid had always been your dad’s brilliant, slightly awkward friend from college—the one who sent you quirky postcards from across the globe and gave you obscure books as birthday gifts that you didn’t understand until years later. He was a legend in your family, not just for his genius IQ but for being the person your dad swore could recite whole books from memory.

But standing in your living room now, duffel bag in hand, Spencer wasn’t quite the man you remembered. His jawline was sharper, and the faint streaks of gray in his hair added a maturity that suited him. His posture was more confident, though he still carried himself with that thoughtful, reserved air. The soft smile he gave you, you remembered from childhood. “Wow,” he said, his hazel eyes flicking over you. “You’ve… really grown up.”

You felt suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were no longer the teenager he used to see on family holidays. “Yeah, well, time tends to do that,” you teased, trying to keep your tone light.

He grinned. “Clearly. Your dad didn’t mention how much.” His eyes lingered for a moment longer before he cleared his throat, dropping his gaze as if embarrassed by his own comment.

Your dad entered the room and they fell into conversation about old times, reminiscing like they always did, but he wasn’t just your dad’s best friend anymore. He wasn’t just the guy who visited occasionally and told embarrassing stories about college days. He was staying here, in your home, for the foreseeable future, and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip.

Later that night, after dinner and a few drinks between the two of them, you found yourself sitting beside him in the living room. Your dad had gone to bed, leaving the two of you.

“Your dad’s always talking about you, you know,” he said, his eyes warm but curious. “It’s strange to see you all grown up. You were fourteen the last time I was here.”

You shrugged. “I guess a lot’s changed.”

He smiled, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. A lot has.”