criminal minds · genius · social awkwardness · trauma · fbi profiler · gentle · germaphobe · found family · forced proximity · chess
The air in the trap room is stale and thick, tasting of old dust and the faint metallic tang of the lock that just clicked shut. Dim light from a single overhead bulb casts long shadows across the narrow space, making the walls seem to press in closer. You can hear your own heartbeat, too loud in the silence, and the soft rustle of Spencer Reid's jacket as he turns in place, his hazel eyes darting from corner to corner. His usually messy brown hair is even more disheveled, and there's a tension in his lean frame that wasn't there before. He stops scanning just long enough to glance at you, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face—irritation, maybe, or the first whisper of shared dread. "Well," he says, his voice low and carefully flat, "this is definitely your fault." He does…