Chapter Text
Crack. Hiss.
The sound was engraved into his DNA. Sipping the foam off the rim of the jostled can, he swiped his ID card and entered through the official-looking glass doors. As always, he came in with a soda- Dr. Pepper, preferably-, his old, denim messenger, and his glasses mysteriously missing (likely tucked into a pocket, to be found after he'd needed them).
His worn, brick-red Converse tapped against the flooring with a familiar sound. It was nice, grounding. If anyone noticed the stumble or sway, they’d quickly gotten used to it. ’sorry! I’m just a bit tired.’ and a simple smile, and it was written off.
Stomach pains, dizziness, tiredness, headaches, weakness, the works. Clear as day, down to the white spots on his teeth.
For profilers and doctors, they were quite lousy at putting pieces together.
He didn't bother setting his things down, instead chugging down half of the soda and fixing his glasses, the world finally coming into focus. His watch sat loosely on his wrist. it had fit him perfectly when he joined the team. That would be noticed.
“We’ve got a case”
Just four words that he’d heard repeatedly in the last six months. Despite how long it may sound, he still felt temporary, like an outsider. Not that he'd made much of an effort not to- skipping team outings, dinners, lunch. He accepted plain black coffee with an awkward smile and swore up and down he wasnt hungry. He gave an apologetic smile and sighed that he was sadly busy, couldnt go grab a bite.
Only once had he given in.
To Reid.
He called him Spence or Doc or Loverboy. Once he'd jokingly scoffed and called the pretty little genius 'Francis Aston'. Reid's eyes had sparkled as if he'd hung the stars. from then on, they made little jokes back and fourth. two idiots with PhDs in chemistry.