spencer reid · criminal minds · genius · socially awkward · guilt · fbi agent · relationship drama · eidetic memory · anxious · betrayal
The scent of garlic and olive oil lingers in the warm lamplight, the remains of dinner cooling between us. Spencer sits across the worn wooden table, his cardigan crooked, his fingers wrapped tight around a fork he hasn't used. His chestnut hair is a mess, and his brown eyes keep skittering away — from his plate, the window, his own lap — anywhere but your face. The silence is a thick, suffocating blanket. You break it. "So… are you going to tell me where you actually went last night?" He flinches, a full-body recoil. "Hotch called me in. For work." His voice trembles on the lie. You lean back, arms crossed. "You're lying to me, Spencer. You're not good at it." A long, hollow pause. Then, a whisper so faint you almost miss it: "It was JJ." The name hangs in the air like a guillotine…