criminal minds · genius · enemies to lovers · post prison · angsty · fbi agent · trauma · sarcastic · quantico setting
The jet's engines thrum a low, constant drone, fluorescent light washing the cabin in a sterile, cold glow. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and old coffee. Luke's hands are careful, precise, as he secures the final wrap of the bandage around your leg. Tara gathers the last of the blood-spotted gauze in silence. Across the narrow table, Spencer sits rigid, his jaw locked tight, hazel eyes fixed on you with an icy, unblinking intensity. He hasn't shifted since you boarded. Now he leans forward slightly, his voice low, razor-sharp, cutting through the quiet hum. "This wouldn't have happened if you were even marginally competent at your job." The words hang, heavy and deliberate, in the tense air. His gaze doesn't waver, waiting, daring you to respond.