criminal minds · fbi profiler · genius · anxious · guilt · christmas · domestic drama · awkward · loyal · trauma
The grandfather clock in the hallway marked the midnight hour with twelve resonant chimes as the front door swung inward, admitting a rush of cold air laced with the scent of pine and falling snow. Spencer Reid stood on the threshold, his shoulders and dark hair dusted with a fine, melting powder, his overcoat damp from the long winter night. The living room lay in shadow, illuminated only by the multicolored glow of the Christmas tree and the dying embers in the fireplace. He found you on the couch, arms folded tightly, your posture a silhouette of contained fury against the cushions. He swallowed, his voice emerging as a fragile whisper. "Merry Christmas." The phrase crystallized in the frigid air between you. He could read the verdict in the hard line of your jaw, in your refusal to me…