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Spencer had always believed he understood patterns. That was, in fact, the foundation of his entire life. People behaved in predictable ways, even when they thought they didn’t. Love, statistically speaking, followed certain trends too. There were attachment styles, behavioral shifts, measurable changes in language and proximity. He knew all of that.
What he hadn’t accounted for was Aaron laughing into his shoulder over something completely ridiculous Jack had said about dinosaurs wearing hats.
It startled him the first time it happened. Not just the sound, though that alone was enough to make Spencer blink in confusion, but the way Aaron’s entire body seemed to give in to it. His shoulders loosened. His posture softened. His hand, warm and steady, had tightened just slightly where it rested at the back of Spencer’s neck, like he was grounding himself there.
Spencer had frozen for a moment, caught somewhere between awe and recalibration.
Because this wasn’t the man he worked with.
Or maybe it was. Maybe this was the man, and the one at the BAU was just... a version.
He was still trying to decide.
"Spencer," Aaron said, still smiling, voice softer than Spencer had ever heard it in the bullpen. "You’re staring."
"I am recalibrating expectations," Spencer said automatically.
Aaron’s smile widened, which Spencer had already learned was something that happened more often than anyone at the BAU would believe.
"That sounds serious."
"It is," Spencer said, because it was. "Your laughter frequency has increased by approximately—"
"Don’t quantify it," Aaron interrupted gently, his thumb brushing absentmindedly along the side of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer stopped.
Because that was another thing.
The touching.
He hadn’t expected that either.
Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief, stoic, controlled, composed—apparently could not keep his hands to himself when it came to Spencer Reid. It wasn’t anything inappropriate, not even remotely, just... constant. Small touches, grounding ones. A hand at Spencer’s back guiding him through a doorway. Fingers brushing his wrist when they sat side by side. That habit of pulling him closer without thinking, like proximity was something he needed.
Right now, Spencer was half tucked against him on the couch, one of Aaron’s arms draped around him with an ease that suggested this was the most natural thing in the world.
It was disorienting.
It was also... nice.
More than nice.
Jack flopped dramatically onto the floor in front of them, still holding his toy dinosaur. "Dad, you didn’t answer my question."
"I did," Aaron said.
"No, you laughed."
"That was my answer."
Jack narrowed his eyes in a way that was so unmistakably Aaron that Spencer felt a strange little warmth bloom in his chest. "That’s not a real answer."
"It is in this house," Aaron replied, completely serious.
Spencer huffed a quiet laugh before he could stop himself.
Aaron glanced at him immediately, like the sound had pulled his attention without effort. His expression softened again, and there it was—that look Spencer still hadn’t found a way to categorize.
It wasn’t just affection.
It was... abundance.
That was the only word that came close. There was so much of it. It didn’t feel measured or restrained or cautious. It felt like something that simply existed, large and steady and impossible to ignore.
Spencer had not been prepared for that.
"Spencer agrees with me," Aaron said.
"I did not explicitly state agreement," Spencer said, because accuracy mattered.
"You laughed."
"That is not legally binding."
Jack grinned. "It counts."
Spencer hesitated, then nodded solemnly. "It counts."
Jack cheered like he’d won something significant, even though he'd just lost the 'argument', then immediately launched into another story about dinosaurs, this one involving time travel and an improbable amount of glitter.
Spencer tried to follow it. He really did. But his attention kept drifting.
Back to the warmth at his side.
Back to the steady rise and fall of Aaron’s breathing.
Back to the way that hand at his shoulder shifted slightly, fingers pressing just a little more firmly, like a quiet check-in.
You okay?
It was absurd, really, how easily Spencer could read that now. How easily he could respond without words, leaning just a fraction closer, letting his head tilt until it rested lightly against Aaron’s shoulder.
Yes.
Aaron’s hand stilled for a second, then resumed its slow, absent movement.
Spencer’s chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety.
He hadn’t expected this either.
The ease of it.
Not that everything was effortless. They were both... complicated people. Their schedules alone were enough to make any kind of relationship statistically unlikely to succeed. But when they were together, it felt—
Simple wasn’t the right word.
Right, maybe.
Or inevitable.
Like something that had been waiting for them to notice it.
"Spence," Aaron murmured quietly, low enough that Jack wouldn’t hear.
Spencer turned his head slightly. "Yes?"
Aaron didn’t answer right away. He just looked at him, that same soft, steady gaze that still made Spencer feel like he was being seen in a way he wasn’t entirely used to.
Then, very gently, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Spencer’s temple.
It was brief. Almost casual.
It still made Spencer’s thoughts scatter like startled birds.
"You look like you’re thinking too much," Aaron said.
"I am always thinking too much."
"I know." There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it was warm, not teasing. "Try not to. Just for a minute."
Spencer considered that.
It was, objectively, a difficult request.
But then Aaron’s hand slid up slightly, fingers brushing through his hair in a slow, careful motion, and—
Oh.
That helped.
More than it should have, probably.
Spencer let out a quiet breath, some of the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding easing out of him.
"There you go," Aaron murmured.
Spencer closed his eyes briefly, just for a second.
This was new.
Not the physical closeness, though even that was something he was still adjusting to. It was the... safety of it. The way he didn’t feel like he had to anticipate anything, didn’t have to analyze every variable.
Aaron was just... there.
Steady.
Warm.
Uncomplicated in a way that was almost paradoxical, given everything Spencer knew about him.
"Dad," Jack said suddenly, breaking the quiet moment. "Can Spencer stay for dinner?"
Spencer opened his eyes.
Aaron didn’t hesitate. "He’s already staying."
Jack beamed. "Yay!."
Spencer blinked. "I am?"
Aaron’s hand stilled in his hair, then shifted to cup the side of his head, guiding him just slightly so he could meet his gaze again.
"If you want to," Aaron said.
There it was again.
That choice.
That openness.
No pressure. No expectation. Just... an offer.
Spencer swallowed, acutely aware of the way his heartbeat had picked up.
"I would like to," he said.
Aaron smiled.
Not the small, controlled one Spencer had grown used to seeing across conference tables.
Something softer.
Something brighter.
"Good," he said.
And then, because apparently this was his life now, he tugged Spencer just a little closer, pressing another quick kiss against his hair before releasing him.
Spencer sat there for a second, trying to process.
He failed.
Completely.
But he didn’t mind.
Not really.
Because Jack was launching into another story, and Aaron’s arm was still around him, and the warmth in his chest had settled into something steady and real.
He hadn’t known what to expect.
But this—
This was better than anything he could have predicted.
And if Aaron Hotchner continued to surprise him like this, with laughter and soft touches and a kind of love that felt bigger than anything Spencer had ever studied—
Well.
He thought he could get used to that.