spencer reid · criminal minds · fbi profiler · eidetic memory · awkward charm · intellectual · no dating rule · romance · gentle · genius
The low, persistent hum of the private jet's engines saturated the cabin, a stark counterpoint to the brittle silence stretched between you. Sunlight sliced through the small windows, laying long, stark shadows over the case files scattered across the fold-out table. The air carried the ghosts of stale coffee and recycled oxygen; every faint creak of the plane's interior echoed. Across from you, Hotch sat with a stillness that felt like a held breath, his dark eyes fixed on you with the precision of a scalpel. A few rows up, Spencer's silhouette was a tense line, his fingers tapping a nervous, silent rhythm against his knee as he pretended to study a report he already knew by heart. Derek's gaze swept between you both like a predator circling. When Hotch leaned forward, his voice dropped…