Author's Note: Yuppers, this is definitely going to be a threeshot – I've even got the ending almost written, and I betcha I could have it posted tomorrow. It's entirely too much fun writing as two innocent, geeky men – I mean, just seeing as I'm a crazy witch-lady.

Anyways, I know that long author's notes suck the big one, so I'll just finish my part and let the people read; I wanted to apologize in advance for the manner in which Peter and Spencer speak in this chapter – looking it over, I realize how little they sound like six-year-olds. But I do have reasoning behind my madness: I figure that Spencer is a tremendous genius, and very mature, so he might just talk like a little adult. And Peter, . . . well, he takes after his big bro Nathan a lot, so I was thinking that, as a wee one, he might try to sound a little more grown-up than normal. I dunno . . . Whatever, I'm satisfied enough to post this trifle. And you, my lovelies, are crazy enough to read it. (*Smiles*)

Disclaimor(s): I most certainly do own my own story, my imagination, and my creativity (and they're not for sale, so NO ONE ELSE gets to either, got it?). But, most regretfully, I do not own Criminal Minds, Heroes, or the city of Las Vegas. And, believe you me, if I owned Peter Petrelli or Spencer Reid, I would be a bit to busy making them kiss to be on here writing FanFiction. (Saw-ry, but 'tis the truth.)

Reviews, while unnecessary, are still read, appreciated, and responded to.

Do enjoy.

"Leap of Faith"

Spencer was still smiling as he took a seat on the only remaining swing that wasn't broken – which just happened to be the one next to Peter. He gingerly sat down, not wanting to rifle the hot old plastic any more than necessary, and, as he got comfortable, scrutinized the boy sitting next to him, slowly spinning and winding the chains of his swing seat as he thought.

Seeming to sense the attention, Peter lifted his eyes once more to gaze at Reid with his startlingly blunt stare.

"What?" the dark-haired boy asked, frowning just a little bit.

"Oh! Uh, . . ." Reid stuttered, embarrassed at having been caught. "Uh, . . . nothing. I mean, nothing bad, . . ."

Peter continued to watch him, and Reid, massively uncomfortable, broke eye contact and cast his glance down at the ground as he continued to speak.

"I mean, I was just trying to figure out why I haven't seen you here before – because I'm sure that I haven't. Since, I mean, I've memorized the entire school enrollment list, and I don't remember there being a 'Petrelli, Peter' on there at all. And I haven't missed a day of school yet, but I don't recall seeing you around the campus thusfar . . ."

"Oh."

Reid finally looked up when he heard the smile in Peter's voice, and when he met the other boy's gaze this time, he saw a much more friendly light in his eyes.

"My family just moved down here on Monday, and I was sick on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. Today's my first day in school."

Spencer frowned slightly, trying to work through something in his mind.

"You just started?" Peter nodded. "But it's almost October."

Peter's scowl returned. "I know that. But we had to come down right away, and Daddy says we're staying for awhile, so I me and my big brother Nate hafta start school for a little while, and he dropped me off at kindergarten this morning . . . And school in New York doesn't start until October, anyway."

As delighted as Reid was to find out that Peter was the same age as himself, his keen mind latched on to a different part of what the other boy has just said.

"You're from New York?"

Peter smiled, then. "Me, and Nate, and my mom and dad. We all grew up in the city."

It was all Reid could do not to jump off of his seat in excitement. As it was, he was visibly shaking with delight at this news.

"That's so fantastic! I've always wanted to see New York City – it's home to some of the greatest pieces of our country's culture; the Statue of Liberty that forever solidified a union between the nations of France and a still very young America, and the Chrysler Building that was the very first one in creation that was able to maintain a stable structure in the shape of a non-equilateral triangular prism – and then there's the famous Coney Island, which is home to one of the oldest carnivals in all of North America, and the world, for that matter! Have you seen the Empire State Building? Or how about the world's smallest house on 3rd Avenue? I've always thought that it would be fascinating to take some time to visit the Hudson Bay – not to swim, of course, but for some analytical and observational samples. Is it really as filthy as all of the reports say? I – "

Peter just stared as Reid babbled on excitedly, amused by the way his eyes had widened impossibly and how his hands were flinging about, gesturing wildly as he spoke, getting louder and faster as he went on and on and on.

There was finally a brief silence as Reid paused to suck in a breath, and Peter, amazed that the other boy hadn't collapsed yet from an inherent lack of oxygen, cut in smoothly.

"You talk a lot."

Spencer immediately slammed his mouth closed, biting his lips and looking fearful of the insult that he was sure was about to be hurled at him. Peter only smiled gently at this.

"You're really smart."

There was a brief pause, where Spencer mustered the boy before him, trying to detect mocking or sneering . . . but Peter only blinked at Reid's gaze, his eyes a mask of innocence and a light note of admiration.

Reid let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, and relaxed a little bit. It's okay, he reassured himself. Peter's nice, Spencer thought, as he spoke again.

"T-Thank you. I don't know if intelligence can be measured accurately in comparison from one human to another, but I do like to read a lot, and I can do extensive levels of complicated math fairly quickly, and I have an eidetic memory that allows me to memorize anything that has been written or is visually noted, too."

Peter listened quietly, tipping his head when Spencer finished speaking. "Why are you in kindergarten? You sound smarter than Nate, and he's a grown-up."

Reid gave a small smile, one corner of his mouth lifting up. "My parents are trying to persuade the school to let me move up further in the school system, to fifth or sixth grade." He paused again before continuing. "But my dad says that if they can't convince the Board of Education to promote my learning, then they might have to move me to a different school district."

"Does that mean you'd move like my family did?"

"Maybe." Reid sighed, thinking that that wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing to ever happen to him. "Maybe . . ."

"Do you want to move?" Peter asked, seeming genuinely perturbed.

"Maybe . . ." Reid trailed off again, still lost in thought.

"Why?"

Spencer looked up, and was promptly caught by his new friend's curious stare. "Pardon me?" he asked, hoping for clarification.

"Why would you want to leave here? This place is great – it's warm and people are nice and the air doesn't smell like cars . . . It's way better than New York, Spencer."

Reid snorted, and stared at Peter incredulously. "What could lead you to think that? Anyplace has to be better than Vegas! Especially New York . . ." Reid thought dreamily of the city where he hoped to be a cop someday.

Peter merely shrugged, and an awkward silence fell over the two youngsters as the kids around them continued to play and laugh and scream and make noise, totally oblivious to the two boys sitting alone on the old swing set. Finally, desperate, Spencer grabbed at something, anything, to keep this conversation with his new friend going.

"Why did your family move here?"

Peter, still averting his eyes from Reid's, spoke after a few seconds.

"We're visiting my Uncle Linderman. Daddy says that it's for business, and we have to say until Christmas, or even more."

"What sort of business?"

"I dunno. It's about a paper factory or something. Really boring stuff. But Mom's all happy, and Nate thinks it's the coolest thing ever."

Reid had always wondered what it was like to have an older brother or sister. "What's Nate like?"

Peter's face instantly lit up, talking about his older brother with the sort of revered voice one uses for speaking of Superman, Spiderman, or someone else magical and Marvel-ous.

"Nate's the greatest big brother in the whole world. He's always real busy, but he likes to play football with me, and he helps take care of animals when I bring them home, and he shares dessert, and he calls me 'Pete' instead of 'Peter' like everyone else does, so I know that I'm special to him."

Reid smiled, happy that Peter found such joy in having a sibling. If only his mom would have another child – then he could be a big brother, too.

"How old is Nate?"

Peter took a moment to answer, thinking over the math in his head. "He's seventeen. He's gonna be done with school soon."

"What does he want to do after that?"

"He says he wants to go to Congress, but mom says that he needs to pick another school. I hope he does, 'cuz Congress is all the way in Washington, and I want him to stay in the same school as me anyway."

Spencer decided not to mention that 'Congress' was an establishment of the government, as opposed to a secondary learning institution. It wasn't important. "He sounds very interesting."

"He is! He's the coolest guy ever. He can even fly."

Reid sat up a little straighter, thinking that perhaps he had simply misunderstood, and cleared his throat, meeting Peter's excited eyes, and asked softly, "Pardon?"

"He can fly."

After a moment of thinking, Spencer laughed. He got it – it was a joke. Oh, sure, Nathan, Peter's brother, could fly. He got it, now.

"Why are you laughing?" Peter stared hard at Reid, his face tightening.

"Well – well, because, you said that your brother can fly." Reid looked over at Peter, whose face indicated that he still wasn't getting it. "Fly? Like, across the sky, faster than a speeding bullet?"

Peter continued to glare at him, and Spencer began to stumble over his words.

"Pe – people can't fly, Peter . . . I mean, they can't."

Peter's stare was acidic, boring a hole right through Spencer's head. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, and tight.

"My brother can."

Reid cocked his head slightly, trying not to be intimidated by the intensity of the look that Peter was shooting him.

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't think it – I know it."

"Well, how do you know it?"

"I've seen it."

Reid's mouth dropped open, and he simply stared back at the small boy before him.

"You've seen it?

Peter nodded defensively. "Yeah, I have."

"You've seen your brother fly?"

"Sorta."

Aha, Reid thought, and he pushed a little bit more. " 'Sorta?' "

Now Peter seemed more defensive; he crossed his arms over his chest, and stared defiantly back into Spencer's eyes.

"When Nate's asleep, sometimes . . . sometimes I go to his room when I have a nightmare to sleep with him, . . . and one night, he was floating in his bed . . . above his bed, I mean. He was still snoring, and lifting the blanket up with him, . . . but he was floating. I saw it."

Reid's vastly intellectual mind had already spit out an explanation for this anomaly Peter was claiming before the boy had even finished talking.

He loves his brother almost to the extent of worship. And when you combine the fact that he sees Nathan like some sort of hero with a lack of sleep due to an apparent nightmare (which he sought out NATE to fix for him) of course Peter might think that his brother was floating. He was tired, and scared, and only comforted by the sight of someone he cares about so much, . . .

Reid split out of his reverie to find Peter still staring at him, expectantly. Hesitating for only a second, Reid spoke.

"Peter, have you seen Nathan levitate since then?"

At Peter's confused look, Spencer apologized and clarified. "I'm asking, have you seen him float in the air again?" When Peter shook his head reluctantly, Spencer smiled. "Well, then isn't it possible that it didn't happen like that?" he asked kindly.

To his surprise, instead of looking comforted, Peter reacted more violently than was really called for, jumping off of the swing and coming to a halt directly in front of Reid.

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW!" Peter yelled, catching the attention of their playground supervisor. Noticing the look they were being given, Peter lowered his voice, but continued to whisper furiously to Spencer.

"I know what I saw. Nathan was floating – he was." Seeing Reid shaking his head, preparing to cut him off, Peter continued on full-force. "I thought you were nice, but you're just like the other kids in my class when I told them that Nathan could fly. They all laughed at me and told me I was stupid. I thought that maybe you would be nice to me, but now you're just like them, Spencer Reid." Looking almost as hurt as he was angry, Peter turned on his heel, and stormed away.

Reid, thinking that he couldn't bear to have two people stomp off from him in a bad mood today, jumped out of his seat, and ran to catch up with the taller boy. "Peter, wait!"

Peter stopped, and turned slowly to face Spencer again, his face a mask of emotionlessness, but his eyes still piercing and brimming little beams of complicated feeling. Reid came to a stop a few feet away from the other boy, panting as he tried to catch his breath (Spencer wasn't used to the physical stuff).

Who cares if he thinks that he saw his brother fly? He's only six! And memory can be malleable enough for someone to think that they've seen something they haven't . . . Spencer thought then of his mom, and all the things she was 'sure' about. He looked up at Peter, and thought then about this was the first person his age in almost two months to be kind to him – and how nice it was that he was finally thinking in terms of 'friend.' And about how awful it would be to lose the only kid around who treated him with any level of decency.

Reid couldn't. So he wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." Reid gasped out, and when Peter made no move to keep stalking off, he continued. "I'm sorry about what I said back there – I didn't mean to come off as callous. I just have a hard time believing things that I can't see with my own eyes, is all." It was all true, Reid reflected, still watching for Peter's reaction. I didn't technically lie . . .

Peter studied the smaller figure before him, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you mean it?" he asked finally, hope breaking across in his voice, despite his best attempt to hide it.

Reid smiled. It wasn't over.

"Yes – I mean, I do. Theoretically, it's highly implausible that human beings can perform such extraordinary acts as levitation or telepathy – theoretically!" He called, as Peter, a look of hurt flashing across his face, made to leave again. When Peter halted, Reid rushed on with the rest of his thought, eager to spit it all out before he lost his audience for good.

"B-But there is this theory through evolution; it claims that as people's DNA progresses, it's only natural that c-certain abilities would begin to show through . . ." Reid, seeing that he finally had Peter's attention, continued on. "There's actually a rather infamous thesis by Dr. Chandra Suresh, a geneticist who lives in India, exploiting these very theories, and detailing about various capabilities that he feels most likely to arise in human beings soonest. There's a whole chapter about premeditated airborne-willed movement."

Peter now turned so that he was fully facing Spencer, who watched, waiting to see if he had made a good move.

"So it's actually possible?" Peter asked, hesitant.

Reid sensed the other boy's trepidation, and hurried to answer before his silence could be misinterpreted as lying.

"Yes, it's possible." Just really, really, REALLY unlikely.

But Reid was glad for the decision he's made, as Peter's face broke out into a smile, and he finally lowered his crossed arms. Even someone as young as the little genius could see the relief going across the other boy's face, happy that, at last, someone believed him.

"Thank you." He breathed, walking up to Spencer and giving him a one-armed hug.

Reid, who had never been very good with touch, stood stiffly and awkwardly until Peter let go, and backed up a few steps. The two boys stared at each other for an uncomfortable heartbeat, and then the Recess Monitor blew his whistle, signaling that the kids' time outside was over. As the two boys started to head back towards their respective classrooms, Peter met Spencer's eye once more, and before he could stop himself, blurted out, "Do you wanna see it?"

Reid didn't have to ask what "it" he was talking about. "When?"

Thinking about it for just a second, Peter had an answer almost immediately. "What about tonight? Then you could spend the night if you wanted. And I know Nate will be home, because he's still sick from when I got a cold."

Reid bit on his lip, chewing the idea over. He really, really wanted to – not just for the possible scientific exploit, but because being invited over to someone's house to spend the night was something that he'd always wanted to do, secretly. But, . . .

"Can I have your telephone number?" Reid asked Peter, as they neared the doors to the school, and the crowd around them became thicker and louder. At Peter's questioning glance, Reid clarified, "My dad will want to call and make sure that it's okay if I stay the night. And I'll have to go home and pack a bag and everything. This way he can call and get directions to your house."

"Oh." Peter smiled a ghost of a smile, told Reid his number.

"Can you remember that?" he asked with concern, and Reid just shot him a small smirk.

Peter grinned back, and the two boys parted ways at last, each heading to their own teacher and respective classes full of kids who, for different reasons, didn't like them.

But each boy was still smiling – after all, each of them had found a prospective best friend. Who cared about their classmates?

"Leap of Faith"