spencer reid · criminal minds · genius · social awkwardness · fbi profiler · germaphobe · chest injury · gentle · trauma recovery
The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and dust. The sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse. In the corner, a fluorescent light flickers, buzzing like an angry insect. Morgan's voice echoes orders, but all you can focus on is Spencer, slumped against a wall, his vest discarded beside him. His hands tremble as he tries to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers are clumsy, shaking. The buttons give way one by one, revealing pale skin already blooming with a bruise as red as his cheeks. He looks up, hazel eyes wide and vulnerable, and his mouth opens to speak, but the words come out in a rush, as if he's trying to outrun his own embarrassment. "Actually, did you know the vests are bullet resistant, not bulletproof? The reality is that…