Two months later

"I'm surprised you picked Georgetown."

Anthea looked up from the book she was scrutinising and raised an eyebrow at him. "You are?"

Spencer shrugged. "You've been to three out of the top five best colleges for your subject and you pick Georgetown to do your final PhD at? Its barely in the top fifty."

"They offered me the position as a lecturer, don't forget," reminded Anthea absently, replacing the battered copy of A Tale of Two Cities and picking up a worn Jane Austen collection instead. They were at a used book-store close to the place they often met up at for breakfast. Anthea was looking for early editions of classics, and Spencer had tagged along because it was Sunday and he enjoyed spending every free moment in her company.

"So did Chicago, and that's closer to home," pointed out Spencer. Anthea rolled her eyes and made to sidestep him, but he automatically blocked her path. He knew he shouldn't have said that, clearly her choices in life were a touchy subject for her. He realized this because she hardly ever referred to her family when discussing her inspirations to follow through with critical theory, it was always a vague realization during a play or while reading a book that seemed to have led her to this point, but it was so easy to talk to her. She had never batted an eyelid at any of his comments. He offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

Anthea sighed. "Nothing to be sorry about," she tried to smile and touched his arm. His sleeves were rolled up and the tops of her fingers just brushed against his forearm. Even that light touch sent a shot of fire through his body, and Spencer froze. He knew she hadn't done it on purpose. It was probably a reflex, something she did when she had upset someone and she wanted to convey her apologies. She knew his issues with touching without him having to voice them, and clearly she had realized what she was doing a little too late. She snatched her hand back and grimaced. "Guess I should be sorry now."

Spencer shook his head, coming out of his state of shock. He raised a hand, wanting to touch her but unable to do it. It fell to his side uselessly. "Anthea, I'm sorry I –"

"Hey, it's okay!" she shook her head and picked up a random book, keeping her gaze fixed on it. "We all have our quirks, Spencer. I honestly don't mind."

But she did. He could see it in her eyes. Anthea was a naturally affectionate person with anyone she cared about, and despite two months of basically seeing her whenever he wasn't devoting time to a case, Spencer still couldn't make himself do it. He wanted to hug her when she came to stand beside him in the line to get coffee or outside a bookstore, he wanted to rest his hand against the small of her back when he was trying to lead her towards a diner where they could grab breakfast before they both had to work, he wanted to grab her hand and stop her from leaving when she would dash out of her chair because she was about to miss her train, but he couldn't.

"What about this one?" her voice jerked him out of his reflections, and he glanced at her. Her face was clear once again, and her eyes were glittering as she held up a copy of The Divine Comedy.

"You have an early edition of that one," said Spencer, still hesitant but willing to go along with her good mood. It was best not to cross her when situations became awkward, she had a way of dispelling the tension just by speaking or distracting him and it was quite effective.

"Yeah, but this one's in Italian," she spoke like it was obvious.

"You speak Italian?" asked Spencer in confusion.

"No, but you do," her eyes were glinting again. Spencer groaned and made to turn away, but Anthea side-stepped him this time and blocked his path, grinning cheekily. "What?" she laughed at his grimace. "You just read the French version of Mythologies to me last week!"

"That's because your version wasn't a correct translation," argued Spencer, but he knew it was useless. He couldn't say to no Anthea.

Sighing, he plucked the book from her hands, making his way towards the counter and resisting the urge to smile at Anthea's excited look. As much as he hated reading out loud, she seemed to enjoy it when he did. Over breakfast last week they had debated Barthes yet again, and Anthe had willingly pulled up the original French version on her tablet when Spencer had insisted that she didn't know the correct translation. He had been right, but after reading it and explaining why he was right, he had noted that she was smiling giddily. When he had asked her why, she had merely shrugged and said she liked it when he read to her. Spencer had blushed and agreed to her request of reading her another few pages.

"Ugh, it's raining," complained Anthea as they exited the book-store. Spencer removed the foldable umbrella from his messenger bag and held it up over both of them willingly. It was only when they began walking, huddled close together to avoid the downpour, did he realize that they were very close together. Surprisingly, he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Was it only skin on skin contact that bothered him, then? That was odd. He had always hated it when anyone invaded his personal space, though he supposed in Anthea's case he had practically invited her in since he had only one umbrella. "And it doesn't look like it'll stop soon," she scowled up at the sky.

"I could read to you another time," suggested Spencer hopefully. Anthea gave him a look, and he sighed. "Fine, today is fine."

"Today is Sunday and its already passed three P.M., if any serial killers needed to be caught you'd have gotten a call by now," reminded Anthea. "No call means I can annoy you as much as I want until you need to sleep."

"You're not annoying," Spencer shook his head and, following this newfound feeling of comfort, bumped his shoulder with hers. She threw him a bright, if somewhat bemused, smile. "I'll read to you if you want."

"Good. Oh, we're actually pretty close to my apartment," she squinted through the rain and made out the sign a few feet from the ground. "It's about ten minutes. We can hang out there. I have coffee, and it's free."

Spencer chuckled and nodded, allowing Anthea to lead him down the street. They walked quietly, and in no time they were in front of a red brick building. Anthea ushered him into the shade of the porch and threw her hair up into a messy ponytail as she gestured for him to follow her. They ascended the few steps to the lobby, nodded to the doorman, who nodded back, and Anthea continued to lead him to the elevator. She was on the top floor.

"I should probably warn you," her voice drifted into his ears after a long silence, in which she was comfortably checking her phone and Spencer had done likewise, though he had stared at her more often that his phone.

"About what?" he asked. The elevator stopped and they exited. There were only two doors, one on each side of the corridor. Anthea headed towards the one on the right, fishing in her bag for her keys.

"I have a dog," she informed him as she began to unlock the door. "I don't know your take on animals."

Spencer winced. "They don't like me very much."

"Zeus is a softie, he won't say anything. Just stay close," she offered him a comforting smile and opened the door, slipping inside and gesturing for Spencer to follow. He entered hesitantly, but before he could take in anything, a giant blur of brown and black flew from across the room and launched itself at Anthea, barking furiously.

"There's my big boy," cooed Anthea, wrapping her arms around the body of an overly large German shepherd dog. Zeus settled his front paws onto her shoulders, almost in the form of a hug, and barked again, nuzzling the side of her neck. Almost immediately, his gaze snapped towards Spencer. He growled.

"Bad boy," scolded Anthea. She smacked him on the head, and he turned to look at her with a look that could only be described at puzzled. Spencer held his breath and stood still, a respectable distance away. German shepherds were known for their protectiveness over family members, and clearly the dog considered Anthea family. He dropped back onto all fours and stalked towards Spencer and growled again, but didn't advance. He merely sniffed his shoes and then, almost reluctantly, turned away and returned to the corner of the room he had sprung from. Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Anthea giggled.

"He was probably looking for my scent on you," she explained. Spencer shrugged out of his jacket and Anthea took it, hanging it up on the rack next to the door and taking the wet umbrella from his hands as well. "I guess walking in the rain together helped. He'll warm up to you eventually. Coffee?" she was already heading towards another room.

"Yes, please," answered Spencer, following her carefully. The apartment was decent sized. The entrance was just wide enough for two people to stand side-by-side, and the kitchen was at the end of the short hall. To the right was an open door that clearly led to a sitting-room, and to the left was another door which he assumed was probably her bedroom.

The kitchen was large, with marble countertops, an island with four bar-stools, and cabinets that were painted a sunny yellow, matching the leatherette of the stools. His umbrella was open and resting against the refrigerator in one corner, drying. Anthea was fiddling with a coffee machine near the sink, and she gestured for Spencer to have a seat while she rummaged in a cupboard over her head. When she turned around, Spencer chuckled when he saw the sugar-bowl in her hand.

"I'm no barista, but I think I can get your order right," she rolled her eyes and sat opposite him, pushing a plate to the centre of the table. "Cheesecake?"

Spencer was about to decline, but at the last minute he thought better of it. It looked quite good, and Anthea was already breaking a piece off with her spoon and eating it straight from the plate. He took the spoon she offered and had a bite, resisting the urge to moan once he had it in his mouth.

"This is good," he managed to say, after about four more bites.

Anthea laughed. "Thanks. I made it last night, I'm glad I'm not eating it alone."

"If you make this often, I'm sleeping on your coach," said Spencer mock-seriously, taking another bite.

Anthea laughed again and gave him a warm smile, turning to the coffee machine to pour them two mugs. Spencer grabbed the cake, she picked up the mugs and led him through an arch-way to the sitting-room. It was just as cosy as the kitchen, with two plush armchairs, a squishy sofa in the centre with a coffee-table in front of it, an average sized TV with a DVD played lying on the floor in front of it, two towering book-cases on either side of the TV and finally a large wicker basket with blankets and pillows spilling out of it, where Zeus was laying and watching Spencer critically.

"Don't mind him," said Anthea, rolling her eyes at her dog. "He's ridiculously protective, so he's the only reason my parents were okay with me moving so far away and living on my own. He also reminds me of my brother."

Spencer chuckled and sat down on the armchair. It was ridiculously comfortable. Anthea sat on the sofa, on the side closest to him, and tucked her feet under her. She had taken off her jacket and shoes at some point as well, and he was struck by how small she looked, in her grey sweater-dress with her head resting on her folded arms. She smiled. "Ready when you are, Dr. Reid."

Spencer sighed, but didn't argue. The book was lying on the table in front of him. She had obviously guessed where he would sit. He picked it up willingly enough and flipped it open, noting that it was an early edition, and probably a rare one as well. A quick glance sideways showed that Anthea was blowing the steam from her mug, so Spencer quickly took a sip from his own, the temperature not bothering him, and began to read.

Three hours later, they were both curled up in the middle of the couch, and Zeus' head was in Anthea's lap as she peered over Spencer's shoulder at the text. There was no break in his reading. They weren't close enough to touch, but they were close enough for him to decide that her body heat was a comforting temperature, and one he wouldn't mind having so close more often.