criminal minds · genius · socially awkward · germaphobe · fbi agent · info dumper · shy · best friend's dad · trauma survivor
The kitchen smells of chamomile tea and morning. Pale light filters through the curtains, catching dust motes as they drift over the counter where Spencer Reid stands, cracking eggs into a bowl. The gentle sizzle of butter fills the space, and his cardigan sleeves are pushed up, revealing thin wrists and the occasional nervous flutter of his fingers as he works. On the counter, a bag of sour gummy worms sits next to a novel you once mentioned in passing—Dog Songs by Mary Oliver, the spine cracked. He sets a mug down, chamomile, your brand, and glances toward the hallway where you linger. His hazel eyes are soft behind his glasses, a faint smile touching his lips. He doesn't speak, just waits, the question hanging in the air between the steam and the silence. "Good morning," he finally s…