Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Drunk Dial ❤️‍🩹 (PG)

Summary: It's been years since Reader talked to Spencer, but after a bunch of drinks it seems like a really good idea.

Rating: PG (13+)

Content Warning: Drinking, confessions

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I've always hated the phrase, 'the one that got away.'

It  always sounded cruel to me, like it was placing blame on him for  leaving. But I didn't blame him for leaving. Spencer wasn't the one that  got away; he was the one who was taken away by fate itself.

If I  had to blame someone, I would blame myself. I hadn't been the smartest  or the luckiest. More often than not, I only brought problems. The kind  that Spencer Reid never had to deal with.

I was the kid that  didn't understand things quickly, and when I did, I still didn't do  well. I was a low-tier academic if there ever was one.

Spencer never seemed to mind. He was kind and patient. Even when I was neither of those things.

The  day the teacher told me that he wouldn't be coming to our class anymore  was the last day I ever enjoyed school. He wasn't the biggest kid, but  he was one of the bravest. When kids were mean, he would always find a  reason to make me smile. He was a good person who would do great things.  The life he would lead would mean something. I just wouldn't be a part  of it.

For a long time, that was enough for me. Picturing him  leading a life of purpose and doing something with that incredible mind  of his gave me a purpose. Maybe one day, I would see him again, I thought.

One  day, nearly ten years later, I received a letter in the mail from him.  It was a simple letter telling me about all the wonderful things he had  accomplished, and how his life was going. It had his number on it, but I  never called. I never gave him mine back. I just figured that I was a  problem that Spencer Reid didn't need to be burdened with.

Another  ten years passed and I found out that he'd left the area, via a news  broadcast where it identified him as an FBI Agent working in Virginia. I  guess I did see him again, in that way. I thought about writing to him,  but I didn't see why it would matter. He probably didn't even remember  me.

At least, that's what I'd thought until one day I was going  about my normal life, working the normal 9-5 and hanging out with those  weird acquaintances that don't feel entirely like 'friends.' They were all talking about one of their recent break ups, comparing the man to all the previous bachelors that 'got away.'

I  was about 5 drinks in and we'd only been here for a couple hours, which  was not the best decision I'd made in my life. But it was so depressing  to hear these girls complaining about guys that literally live down the  street.

They could call them right now and they would definitely come over.

Meanwhile,  I was stuck with a number that was probably disconnected. I'd never  even checked. I chased the thought down with another drink.

It was then the conversation shifted, as one of my friends posed a different kind of question.

"Do you guys remember your very first crush?" she asked.

Of course I did. It'd been twenty years, and I still couldn't shake the thought of that goofy smile and brilliant mind.

God, I need a breath of fresh air.

Stumbling  out into the darkness, I sat down on a bench by the road, staring out  into the busy streets of Las Vegas. I can almost see him there, walking  with me as we went about our lives. It wasn't fair to idealize him. I  didn't know anything about who he was now. But I wanted to. Was that a bad thing?