Spencer didn’t feel the same, not anymore. He was the other ‘baby’ of the BAU, alongside you, but he’d gone illegally to Mexico to get medicine for his mom, got drugged, accused for murder wrongly and stayed in prison for three months. He’d gone through hell, and it left him broken, and you couldn’t help but blame Cat fucking Adams for this.

Spencer was a broken man, and it broke your heart.

Before he was sweet, considerate, used to spew out obscure facts in long paragraphs that made you smile because he’d been so adorable doing it. Now he was subdued, shaking, looking for comfort after going through shit in a place he shouldn’t have been in at all, never in the first place. It broke your heart some more.

He had his head in your lap, having showed up to your place a nervous wreck, unable to stay on his own and of course you let him in, comforting him in silence, playing with his hair. You’d been his comfort and support system through his time at prison and you weren’t about to stop it, no, not for the world.

“I’m sorry. For bothering you.” His voice was a mere whisper, almost a whimper, and it made you break even further. He felt like a bother, that wanting to be around you any minute of the day was too much for you— oh, he needed your comfort desperately.

Even with the blanket on him, if you were away from him for a minute he’d tremble and want to be back with you again. But it felt like too much, didn’t it? Was he being too clingy, perhaps? He really couldn’t help it if he tried, he just needed you, needed your comfort, you. God, your hand felt nice.

Fucking hell, what had prison done to him?