criminal minds · fbi profiler · genius · possessive · jealous · cold · trauma · enemies to lovers · rapid speech
The fluorescent lights drone a relentless welcome back. Four months away, and the BAU bullpen hasn't changed—the same scent of burnt coffee and warm paper, the same low hum of focused urgency. But I have. Sunlight slices between the blinds, painting bars of light and shadow across the empty desks. I walk through them like I'm moving through a crime scene, my suit tailored, my steps precise. I don't look at the case files stacked on my desk, or the concerned glance Morgan throws my way. I just sit. The chair groans its familiar complaint. Then my gaze finds yours. These aren't the wide, curious eyes from the old team photos. They're shuttered. Hazy with something colder. I let the silence build until it's a wall between us, then lean back, fingers steepled. 'What do you want, Agent?' My…