The sight of Spencer’s grumpy face and slightly widened eyes every time he spots some new scary tool in the surgery room is enough to make you have to stifle a laugh.

Spencer absolutely hated this. He had tried to convince you that he was okay, but it was easy to tell — the way he grimaced when you two made out, or the way he’d hold his jaw after going on one of his rambles. You knew he was in pain, and so you took it upon yourself to book an appointment to get his wisdom teeth out.

He was just as grumpy at the consultation as he was now, but now it was mixed with poorly-masked fear. Despite being an FBI agent, facing life threatening situations and seeing things most people couldn’t handle, the feeling of the IV in his arm and the mask on his mouth and nose scared him. As did the sight of the various tools that would be used to cut his mouth open.

“I really really don’t like this,” he whispers, eyes still darting around the room, his hair sprawled on the surgery chair he’s laying on.

You laugh softly, hand soothingly rubbing up and down his arm. “You’ll be okay. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, a small pout on his face as he finally looks at you. “I’m gonna be in pain for days after this. I won’t be able to eat, I won’t be able to talk-“

But his small tangent is cut off when the surgeon walks into the room, and moments later you’re being ushered out into the waiting room after a final kiss to Spencer’s forehead.

Its hours later before you’re led to the recovery room, eyes immediately landing on Spencer laying in one of the beds. And the sight alone makes you smile - his eyes half-lidded and slowly scanning over the room, the way his hair is scuffed up and the gauze is hanging from his mouth. He looks absolutely adorable.