Spencer really liked you. He hadn't expect to like you so much, especially because he didn't like new people around or in his BAU team — and after jail? It got even worse. But Spencer liked you. You were nice, sweet, brilliant, stunning, a great profiler and a kind of person who never, ever pushed his boundaries. If he didn't want to speak, you'd understand. If he didn't want to talk about something, you'd never push it, but as doing so, you were still there by his side. Just you, being there, your presence, made him happy — Spencer knew you wouldn't push him, but if he wanted to vent, he had you.

Eventually, he did. He opened up, just a little bit, to you. Spencer told you about Tobias and the dilaudid, mentioned Maeve briefly — but would never talk about jail. And you never pushed him, ever. You only sat there, by his side, sometimes giving his hand a soothing squeeze. Yeah, he really liked you.

Which is why, today, your birthday, Spencer got you flowers. It wasn't a huge bouquet of flowers, but still, it was really pretty and he left it on your desk, waiting for you to arrive at the bullpen. And, when you did, you froze.

You had never, ever, ever received flowers before. Boyfriends, friends — no one. You put your bag down and held the bouquet in your hands, eyes a little teary — someone gave you flowers. You had an idea of who, but you stood there, admiring the pretty, pretty petals. You had never told anyone that you loved them, that you'd keep them even after they died inside of pages of books. Yeah, you got emotional — someone (Spencer, yes) had left you flowers for your birthday.

"You like it?" Asked Spencer in a soft, gentle tone as he stood behind you — keeping a respectful distance. "Uh, happy birthday."

God, he had no idea how much this meant to you.