Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid

a gesture of sorry. in studying the case board she had started tapping her pencil on the table. turning attention away from the board, cassandra looks at spencer and studies him a moment. tense shoulders, a squint to his eyes, a fidget and twitch to his fingers. frustration, deep concentration, and worry. this case is getting to all of them.

moving to sit next to dr. reid, they glance at the paper he's studying. maybe she can help — she doubts it, knowing his brain works better on these things than she does. still worth a try though.

"okay?" spoken softly, a check in. she worries about the whole team but he's just the one in front of her now.

          Spencer regrets it the very moment he snaps at her; his shoulders slumping briefly in shame as he mumbles out a quiet sorry. The case was getting to him — it was getting to all of them, — frustration && annoyance coalescing into an irritating buzz just beneath his skin. It's no excuse to take it out on Cass, though, && snapping at her doesn't do a damn thing but make him feel even worse, shame joining the ball of emotions tangled up in his chest && adding to the unpleasant buzz. He should have a better handle on his emotions by now, should be able to handle the frustration that comes with the feeling that there is something just out of reach that he isn't seeing; if he could just grab a hold of that elusive clue that would allow all of the puzzle pieces to fit together, they could crack this case wide open && be back home by the morning.

          But he can't. He can't figure out what's missing && it's making him irritable, leg bouncing beneath the table as he purses his lips && scrubs a hand over the tight muscles in his jaw. He glances over when Cassandra sits beside him, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Maybe a break or a second pair of eyes would help.

        ❛❛ Yeah, I'm — I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. ❜❜ His voice is just as soft, apology genuine as he turns fully in his chair to face her. ❛❛ I know there's an answer in there — ❜❜ a gesture at the spread of papers across the table && the profiling board in the background of it all, ❛❛ — I just can't figure out what it is. ❜❜

          He uses his weight to bounce the back of the chair back && forth a few times, idly fiddling with his own fingers. After a moment, he sighs && pushes himself to his feet. ❛❛ I think I need more coffee. Do you want to come with?? ❜❜ a flimsy excuse for a break, but he just needs a second to clear his head, shake the sting of irritation from his skin && restore his focus.

fun spn quotes | @eidetic187

          This was supposed to be just another routine BAU case for Spencer. He was decidedly not expecting to witness a man spontaneously explode into tiny little pieces in a shower of blood && bone fragments, nor was he expecting to be shielded from said display by a complete stranger. He's half-convinced he'd been hit in the head at some point && this is all some kind of freaky dream, && he was going to wake up back in the normal world, where things actually make sense && people don't just suddenly explode && strangers don't shove rifles into his chest.

        ❛❛ You're going to what?! ❜❜ He's aware, in a detached sort of way, that he sounds like he's approaching hysterics; &&, honestly, he probably is. The brand of blood && gore he's grown desensitized to is a far-cry from what he's just witnessed, && frankly, it's insane that this other guy doesn't seem fazed in the slightest!! "No, I don't know how to shoot a rifle!!" It should probably embarrass him that he's panicking like this, but he's still stuck on the whole shower of blood && viscera thing.

          Every day for him. Okay. This situation just keeps getting more insane, && Spencer thinks he needs to just fully check-out, mentally, because it's the only way he'll be able to get his head to stop spinning. None of this makes sense && trying to force it to is only giving him a headache. So, he'll make sense of it after. For now, apparently he has stumbled upon something entirely not-human in the BAU's search for what they thought was their standard fare, && he should probably listen to the guy that seems to know what he's doing. ( Every day for him, seriously?? This is insane. )

        ❛❛ I can, um, prob — probably figure it out?? ❜❜ He's not confident, but he's going to have to do it anyway, because there's no way on this planet or any others ( because surely if monsters are real than aliens must be, too ) that he's going to be the distraction. He fiddles with the rifle in his hands, attempting to figure out the proper way to hold it. It's practically the exact opposite of the revolver holstered at his hip, && he's only growing even less confident that he can shoot this thing.

Isn't this what all the cool kids are doing? Skateboarding? It's the hobby of the summer, and even though Spencer told me this was a bad idea, I still dragged him to the skate park before it got dark and we had to run all the way back, like we've been doing most of this summer before he heads back to Nevada.

I'd been doing okay. Sort of. Pushing forward on one foot, balancing, even managing a little turn near the bottom of the bowl. Spencer had stopped watching with his arms crossed and was actually sitting on the lip of it, like maybe he believed me when I said I had this.

I did not have it.

The ramp looked smaller from the top. I'd seen another kid drop in earlier and figured that if he could do it, so could I. I tipped the nose of the board over the edge, shifted my weight forward... and the board went one way, while my feet went the other.

My back hits the concrete, a full-body slap that knocks all the air out of my lungs at once, and the back of my head bounces off the ramp on the way down. Everything goes bright and weird for a second, and I can tell Spencer's running by the panicked edge in his voice. He kneels over me and says something too fast, then holds up his fingers.

"Uh--five?"

Whoops. Probably not the right answer.

"I'm fine, Spence, really--"

Still, it hurts to sit up. Perhaps I'm not cut out for this.

          This is an absolutely terrible idea, no questions about it, && Spencer cannot believe he'd let Oliver drag him down to the skate park. He should have told him no, shut this idea down immediately with a quick recitation of skateboarding-related injury statistics; it was more likely that Oliver would get hurt than that this would go well in any way shape or form. The problem is, Spencer's been weak to Oliver practically since they'd met && would fold instantly to anything Oliver wanted, all he had to do was ask with that sweet face of his && Spencer would be gone, && he's pretty sure Oliver knows it.

          So he watches Oliver skate, at first with his arms crossed && a look that was a barely disguised mix of anxiety && disapproval. He's so certain that Oliver is going to slip && crack his skull open && then where would Spencer be?? Having to explain to Mrs. Wolf that, against his better judgment, he'd let Oliver do something dangerous && now he's in the ER getting his skull fused back together, that's where.

          To Oliver's credit, though, he seems to be doing okay. Enough for Spencer to stop drumming his fingers anxiously against his bicep && uncross his arms altogether. After a moment, he sits on the lip of the bowl to watch Oliver instead; though he's still anxious, he's less convinced Oliver is going to slip && crack his head against the concrete.

          && then Oliver slips && cracks his head against the concrete.

          Okay, maybe he doesn't exactly crack his head open, judging by the lack of any immediate blood splatter. But the sound his body makes when it hits the concrete && the way his head bounces against the ramp as gravity pulls him down is enough to make Spencer cry out. He's on his feet in an instant, scrambling down the inside of the ramp to kneel beside Oliver. This was a horrible idea, he knew it, this was a horrible idea && Oliver's hurt && he's a terrible boyfriend, he should have stood firm on this being a stupid idea && insisted they stay home && watch Doctor Who for the hundredth time instead.

        ❛❛ Oliver?! ❜❜ His panic is clear in his tone as he surveys the other boy; no obvious injuries that he can see, though he's sure the other boy will be covered in bruises by the morning. The lack of blood is a good sign, at least, but he can see that Oliver's eyes are unfocused && he's certain the boy has at least a mild concussion. So he raises his left hand over Oliver's face && holds up 3 fingers, asks Oliver to tell him how many that is.

          He does not get the answer he hopes for. ❛❛ You are not fine, Oliver, you almost certainly have a concussion — don't try to sit up yet!! ❜❜ His voice goes embarrassingly high at the end, almost sounding hysterical, as he pushes at Oliver's shoulders to keep him laid out on the concrete. He does show the boy a little mercy, though, maneuvering Oliver so his head && shoulders are leaned back against Spencer's lap instead of the hard concrete of the bowl.

        ❛❛ Just — Just lay there, for a second. ❜❜ Spencer runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly; Oliver is ( relatively ) fine, there's no need to panic. Treating a concussion is easy && he'll likely be just fine in a couple of days. It could have been a lot worse.

        ❛❛ We should get you to the emergency room, ❜❜ he says finally after a few moments of thought. ❛❛ Do you think you can stand?? I can drive you there. ❜❜