Spencer Reid: Oneshots

Chance Encounter

Summary: Reader runs into Spencer in a rather unexpected place.

"Two weeks off," Elle sighed, "I can hardly believe it."

You nodded, putting all of your folders into your bag and closing it for the last time for 2 blissful weeks. "I'm not sure if I've had two weeks to do nothing since middle school."

"Not too long ago then," she teased. "What does someone of your age even do with all that time?"

"I'm 23," you scoffed. "I don't see you teasing Reid for his age."

Elle's eyes briefly flicked to the young genius, hunched over his own bag. You followed her gaze, quickly noticing something off in his usual demeanor.

"Oh."

The woman nodded slowly. "So, what are you gonna do these next two weeks?"

"Oh uh one of my friends is actually getting married, so I'm gonna go to her bachelorette party!" You grinned. "It's exciting. Also scary."

"Scary?"

You grimaced. "We're old enough to get married."

Elle laughed. "Well, you go have all of your early 20's fun and don't worry about boring future stuff. Get laid and have fun! Mwah!"

"We're at work," you whispered sharply.

"Not in 3...2...1–Bye!" She darted out the glass doors.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag. "Have a good break, Spence."

The boy gave you a small smile. "You too, Y/N. Have fun."

What's up with him?

Your thoughts of anything BAU related were completely gone once the airplane touched ground in Las Vegas—Bachelorette Central as you deemed it.

"This place is insane," your friend muttered, looking around the foyer of the enormous rental house.

"Tell me about it." You grinned.

The bride-to-be put down her bags. "What's taking so long? Let's have some fun!"

Swimming, drinking, singing, dancing, bad TV, etc. It was fun, you couldn't deny it, but your world was so different from the other girls'. It was hard to imagine that you had all been so close once.

"I swear, work is such a pain," one woman moaned. "It's like keeping me awake. So many clients!"

The group laughed. "Agreed. I'm so jealous of Y/N."

You looked up. "Hm?"

"Oh nothing. It's just that your job is so much more thrilling than our lame desk jobs. We're so jealous of you!"

Maybe if they'd seen what I've seen. "Oh. Uhm yeah."

Suddenly the conversation turned to exactly what you wished it wouldn't, your job. Something about guns, something about government, something about hot guys, something about serial killers. You wanted nothing more than to be away from them.

"Let's go out!" You exclaimed, interrupting the conversation. "We're in Vegas anyways...right?"

The group agreed, and you were all out on the Strip within an hour. You hated it very much. Too loud, too noisy, and everyone was drunk enough to make a scene everywhere.

"What are you guys doing—" You buried your face in your hands as the very drunk party attempted to pole dance on a street post.

"Y/N?"

You whirled around. "Holy shit. Spencer."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nice outfit."

You flushed, crossing your arms to cover the very small and sheer top you had on. "Uhm hi. What are you doing here?"

"My mom lives here. You?" He peered over your shoulder at the group of women. "Aha."

"Yeah..." You exhaled. "Time of my life."

He chuckled. "I can see that."

"I need to get them home, I'm sorry." You shook your head, trying to get one of your friends up. "C'mon—Ouch!"

Spencer put a hand on your arm, indicating for you to stop. "Let me help you get them all back."

"I underestimated the difficulty of getting 11 drunk women to one place," you mumbled, downing a cup of water. "I am so damn hungry."

Spencer sat down on the couch. "I know some good places around here. I uh was born and raised in Vegas so..."

"I would love to," you said. "Could I change?"

He nodded quickly, looking away. "Yes, sorry."

You smiled at his shyness. "I'll be back."

It was probably a bad thing that your favourite part of one of your closest college friend's bachelorette party was eating burgers on a curb at 1 am with your coworker.

"I just feel like we've grown so far apart, but I just refused to let myself believe it."

Spencer nodded. "I know how it feels."

You sipped your milkshake. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"How?"

Spencer was quiet, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. "My mom."

"Oh yeah! She lives here, huh? How's she doing?" The smile on your face faded when you saw Spencer's expression.

"It was just us for a long time. She got me to where I am and loved me so much, but she—" He inhaled sharply. "She's schizophrenic."

You swallowed. "Oh."

"I feel like I've spent these past few years watching her become a stranger. I just don't think I saw it until this week because I never let myself see it." He wiped a tear from his cheek. "I was so naive."

You shook your head. "Hey...c'mon. She's your mom, of course you wanted to believe the best. It's because you want the best for her."

The boy sighed. "It feels nice to tell someone."

"Nobody else knows?"

"Not a single person outside of the state of Nevada."

You put your hand on his, squeezing it. "I'm here for you. You know that, right?"

"I do," he whispered. "Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"Would you want to meet her? She uh she knows about you." His cheeks were pink.

A soft smile spread across your face. "I would love to." The smile turned coy. "How does she know who I am?"

"I think you can deduce that for yourself, profiler." His hand was still intertwined with yours.

You lay your head on his shoulder. "I think I have."