Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid

"What? I can't call you my boy--"

I stop myself before I finish that sentence, looking around as I stand next to his desk and set the lunch bag I'd brought between his stacked files, knowing he'd have forgotten to eat otherwise. At the next desk over, one of his colleagues looks up from a file with the kind of smirk that tells me he might’ve heard every word. Whoops.

I haven't had the chance to visit him at the office often, so maybe I don't know how to behave around all these gun-slinging, suit-and-tie agents of the law. Maybe I should keep our association under wraps, even if a cheeky part of me, who's known Spencer longer than anyone else here, wants to say it loud and proud.

"Wow. I didn't think the Bureau would be so close-minded."

          It's not that Spencer feels in any way ashamed of his relationship with Oliver; he's never struggled with his sexuality, never felt as if it was something that had to be hidden away. It's more that the Bureau is a federal organization && he's already on thin ice considering the special exceptions that had to be made for him to even graduate from the academy. The team wouldn't care, he knew that much ( Garcia, Hotch, && Gideon had all told him as much many times over, ) but all it would take was someone outside of the team, passing by, overhearing, && deciding they didn't agree with it, && his career would be over && done with before it had even gotten off the ground. It's just not an image the bureau wants for itself, you understand, right?? ( This is also something Hotch had also assured him is an irrational worry, that any such decision would be fought tooth && nail by their unit chief, but he's always been a bit of a coward. )

          He doesn't take any great joy in shushing Oliver when he gets just a little too loud about the real reason he's visiting Spencer in the office, especially when Oliver only looks confused && then affronted. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Derek glance over && smirk, && he releases a deep sigh; he's never going to hear the end of it, now. He can already hear Derek's teasing voice in his head; oh, is that why you didn't want anything to do with Lila, lover boy?? He can already feel the impending headache.

        ❛❛ Yeah, well, it is a federal agency, ❜❜ is his reply. He fiddles nervously with a pen, rolling it between his fingers && chewing lightly on his bottom lip; he doesn't want this to sour their little meeting. It's nice, that Oliver thought to stop by && bring him lunch, && despite his fears, he's always happy to see his partner.

          So he shifts gears, giving Oliver a soft smile as he reaches out to take one of Oliver's hands in his own, weaving their fingers together && giving a soft squeeze. ❛❛ In any case, thank you for bringing me lunch, Ol. ❜❜ He speaks quietly, but it doesn't detract from the pure affection dripping from his tone, eyes soft as he gazes up at his partner. ❛❛ I love you. ❜❜ It's said in Korean, mostly because the phrase in Latin is practically the same as it is in Spanish && it's much more likely that someone around the office would be able to translate it ( Elle would, he knows that for sure, but she's not exactly who he's worried about. )

"I--ah, yes!"

I fidget in front of the boy who just walked up to me, a whole lot of shy, looking at my shoes instead of his face. Mom told me to walk down the street, visit the house on the corner, and ask for another boy my age. He went by the name of… Sebastian? Shawn? Spencer!

That's it. Spencer.

Mom thought we could get along. Two small, smart kids. Lonely kids. She didn't say that part out loud, but I knew that's what she meant. So she sent me with a Tupperware of chocolate cookies, still a little warm from the oven, the ultimate offering for a nine-year-old. I'm holding it with both hands so I don't drop it.

The boy in front of me is taller than I am. Skinnier, too, with a book tucked under his arm like he was on his way somewhere when he stopped to talk to me. I can't really look at his face, but I can see his sneakers, scuffed at the toes.

I smile at the sneakers, then make myself look up to about his chin.

"I'm looking for the Reid house. Do you know where it is?"

          He's on his way to the park just down the street, a library book tucked under his arm, when he comes across a boy who looks to be around his age looking a little lost. At first, Spencer hesitates to approach him; he's never got along well with kids his age, most of them finding his intelligence && tendency to ramble off-putting at best && downright strange at worst. He is a good samaritan at heart, though, so it is his inherent need to help people that propels him forward, gets him to ask the boy in question if he needs any help.

          The other boy is shy, he notes instantly; he won't look at Spencer, staring at his shoes instead of his face. Spencer doesn't push him; he gets it, truthfully, being so withdrawn himself that it worries his mother && made his father push him into —

          He tries not to think too long about his father, tries not to think about the letter from him that sits in a box under his bed, the very last thing he'd been given before William had disappeared from his life seemingly forever.

          Spencer focuses back in on the boy in front of him, pushing any && all thoughts of his absent father from his mind. The boy is looking at his chin now, && Spencer can't help but smile a little; it's not eye contact, but it's progress already, && it's nice to know that something about him has made it easier for the boy to at least try to look up at him. Maybe they could get along, maybe he'd finally make a friend so his mother would stop worrying —

          I'm looking for the Reid house.

          Spencer stares at him in confusion for a moment, only for it to clear as he remembers his mother had mentioned there being a new boy on his street && how she'd talked to the boy's mom && thought they could get along. Spencer didn't like it when his mom tried to make friends for him, but he never told her so because he knows she does it because she loves him && doesn't want his only friends to be fictional, existing only within the pages of books like the one he carries now. This must be Oliver, he thinks. The thought of making friends with a boy just because his mom wanted him to was not a pleasant one, but this boy didn't seem too bad. His mom had said Oliver was smart, so maybe he wouldn't be so weird about Spencer's own intelligence.

          It's a good thing they'd run into each other && Oliver hadn't ended up at his house only to be told Spencer wasn't even home.

        ❛❛ That's my house, actually. Are you Oliver?? My mom said a new family just moved in down the street && they had a son my age, Oliver, and that she wanted me to introduce myself. My name is Spencer. ❜❜ He gives the boy a friendly smile.

          Then his eyes catch the Tupperware held in the other boy's hands; he can see the cookies inside, just past the steam fogging up the clear plastic — freshly baked cookies. His smile widens at just the sight, eyes brightening. ❛❛ Are those cookies for us?? I love cookies!! ❜❜ For a brief moment, his hand twitches && he almost reaches forward to take the container — but his mom's voice rings in his head, saying now, Spencer, that isn't very polite, && he shoves his hand in his pocket instead to curb the temptation.

        ❛❛ Hey, do you know how to play chess?? ❜❜ Distantly, he realizes he's talking too much, asking too many questions, but it's in his nature && even as he realizes it, he can't exactly get himself to stop. ❛❛ I was actually heading down to a park that's just a few blocks down the street, and they have community chess tables. I could teach you, if you don't know how!! ❜❜