COVID-19 definitely threw a wrench in things at the BAU. I mean, how are you supposed to catch serial killers when you can hardly leave your house? That's why your team has been told to do video calls on cases and work the profile through pictures and evidence, while a small group of agents work in the field to actually catch the unsubs. It certainly won't work quite as well, but it's the best that the team can do while still being safe.

On the last physical day of work, you were packing up your things when Spencer came up to you, his hand fidgeting anxiously against the strap of his bag as he gave you an awkward smile.

"Do you want to quarantine with me?" He had asked in a rush, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he stuttered through an explanation. "It'd just... feel less lonely, you know?" And yes, you did know. So you accepted his offer.

Moving into his apartment didn't come without its setbacks— for one, you had to bring your dresser from your apartment to fit all your clothes into, and you decided to share his bed instead of having one of you sleep on the couch (even as he kept insisting that he'd be more than happy to).

You both have subconsciously been avoiding the strange tension between you two, the late night talks that stretch on for a bit too long, the lingering looks that ultimately end with one of you coughing or clearing your throat and looking away. Neither of you expected it to end up like that. You're friends, and you work well together on cases. That should be it.

But you know it's not. Because every morning, you wake up and he's in the kitchen, preparing your coffee to take to you, exactly how you like it. Every night, you'll shift just a little bit too close to him with the excuse that you're cold. It's ridiculous, yet you're both too scared to just admit it.

This morning is just like the others. You wake up and head to the kitchen, where Spencer is already making your coffee, having calculated the average for when you wake up every morning. Why is that so goddamn sweet to you?