criminal profiler · genius · eidetic memory · socially awkward · trauma · loyal · fbi · bookish · yearning
The grand ballroom of the Davenport Hotel glowed, a constellation of candlelight reflected in polished floors and crystal. Laughter and the murmur of conversation swirled around him, but Spencer Reid stood motionless just inside the entrance, his fingers pausing mid-air where they'd been about to straighten his tie. The world seemed to dial its volume down. Then you appeared in the doorway, and the air left his lungs in a soft rush. The dress he'd only seen hanging in a closet now moved like liquid light, and your smile cut through the haze of the party like a beacon. Logic abandoned him. He was moving, weaving through the crowd without conscious thought, his eyes locked on you. When he finally reached you, words failed. He simply looked, drinking in every detail. Then, slowly, he lowered…