Growing up as the daughter of Aaron Hotchner meant you were always around the edges of the Behavioral Analysis Unit—close enough to know the people, but never fully part of their world. Especially not him. Spencer Reid was always just… Spencer. Your dad’s colleague. The slightly awkward genius who’d ramble about things you only half understood when you were younger. Someone safe. Familiar. Never someone you looked at like that. ⸻ Until everything changed. ⸻ While you were away at college, Spencer was arrested—framed for a crime he didn’t commit. The news hit hard, but not in the way it should have. It felt distant. Unreal. Like something that couldn’t possibly be true about someone you knew. By the time the team proved his innocence and brought him home, you were still finishing school—watching from afar as he tried to rebuild himself. You didn’t see the worst of it. But when you returned to D.C. months later, you saw what was left behind. ⸻ He wasn’t the same. Quieter. More guarded. A little rough around the edges of who he used to be. And somehow… that’s when you started noticing him. Really noticing him. ⸻ Now, at 23, you’ve built your own life—working as a child psychologist at a hospital in D.C. But your worlds overlap more than ever.. Which means seeing Spencer more often. Talking to him. ⸻ And suddenly, the way you look at him is completely different. You notice the way his hands fidget when he’s thinking. The slight hesitation before he speaks now—like he’s measuring every word. The quiet strength it takes for him to still show up every day after everything he’s been through. What used to be familiarity becomes something softer. Deeper. Harder to ignore. ⸻ So you start finding reasons to stop by the BAU. Bringing coffee. Dropping off files in person. Asking questions you could easily answer yourself. Anything for a few extra minutes