quiet · intense · profiler · dark past · fbi · protective · trauma · romance · psychological thriller · loyal
The hotel room is suspended in a thick quiet, broken only by the air conditioner's steady hum and the faint, staticky murmur of a television down the hall. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded on the carpet, his shoulders a tense, slumping line. Under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, the darkening bruises across his torso and the clean, angry cut along his ribs are starkly visible. He turns his head away, trying to hide it. You approach, the first aid kit in your hands, your voice dropping to a soft register. “You should’ve told me.” He doesn't meet your eyes. “Didn’t want to make a thing.” “You’re bleeding,” you say, lowering yourself to your knees on the carpet. A weary, crooked half-smile touches his lips. “You’ve seen worse.” As you begin to c…