Criminal Minds One Shots

*Your Support System (GuysxReader)

Warning: mentions of self-harm/cutting | Requested by awesomepanda373

"Thank you all for coming in so early," Hotch says, walking into the briefing room. "We've been called in on a—" Hotch looks around the room, "where's y/n?"

The team looks around and shrugs.

Hotch sighs. "Can someone please call—"

"I'm on it," Morgan interrupts. He gets up and leaves the room, going into his office from some quiet.

Your phone vibrates on the counter next to you. You look over and see Morgan calling.

"What up, Superman?"

"You tell me, shorty." If you're not short then take it as an ironic nickname.

"What?"

"Where are you?"

You look up at the bathroom clock. "Damnit! Sorry, I- I'll be there in like 20."

"We'll be waiting."

You hang up and toss your phone back on the counter. Hastily, you rinse off the X-acto and grab some gauze, wrapping it carefully around your wrist and forearm.

You run into your room and throw on the first shirt and slacks you see, bolting out the door.

"Sorry! Sorry I'm late!" you yell, running into the briefing.

"It's alright," Hotch assures. "Uh, Reid, will you fill y/n in on the jet?"

"Sure."

"Good. Wheels up in 10."

Everyone gets up and goes to their desks to grab their go-bags. Everyone except Reid.

"What happened?"

"Hmm? Oh, I overslept and misread the clock... it's just been a rough morning."

"No, no. I meant to your arm," he corrects, pointing you the gauze.

Following his gaze, you realize that the first shirt you saw was not the wisest choice. "Nothing. Cooking mishap. I'll live," you assure.

"I know I'm not that kind of doctor, but can I look at it?"

"No!" you respond, too quickly to be casual. "Uh, no, no. It's okay," you cover up.

"Hey! Pretty boy, Shorty! Come on!"

"Coming!" you reply, dashing off toward Morgan.

Reid shakes his head before following.

On the plane, Reid explains to you the details of the case with intermittent questions about your arm. You dismiss each question smoothly. Frustrated, Reid seeks some help.

"Hey, Morgan? Can- can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Uh, can we talk over coffee?"

Morgan nods. "So what's up?" he asks once the two are at the back of the jet.

"Y/n's hurt but won't talk about it."

"Hurt? Hurt how?"

"You didn't see the gauze?"

Morgan thinks about it. "I did, actually. But you can't get anything on it?"

"Nothing! Y/n keeps trying to obfuscate me."

"Let me try." Morgan walks over to you and motions to the seat across you.

You nod.

"So," he begins. "Rough morning?"

"Yeah," you chuckle. "I gotta get a digital clock. I completely misread the time."