It was Labor Day weekend when Spencer felt himself slip down into a slump. Truth be told, he was only sulking about having to hand in his summer work the upcoming Friday. He loved dragging out his misery and dwelling on all the things he couldn't do anymore because of school.
He even told his friends that he didn't feel good so he could stay in his cocoon of a bed and sulk about how awful IXL, the website that has the math summer work, truly is. It was stupid to have math on the computer. Math's supposed to be done out on paper!
Spencer knew if he let what was really on his mind slip Corrine would either sit him down to do the IXL or would call him a baby for stressing about it.
Honestly, he could handle literally any class if he didn't procrastinate so much, but his friends never liked honors classes, let alone the kids who took honors classes or the teachers who ran those classes, so he didn't bother trying to go into any.
Although it took him a whole day of sulking, he did finish the IXL.
Then the next day he hung out with his friends for his "last summer night." It was a blur but it was a fun night.
The first day of school came and no one was ready for it.
Homeroom was in the morning on the first day, like the other three years, and Spencer found himself the only one sitting in the lab room. The sweltering heat did not help his anxiety throughout the ten minutes it took for the bell to ring and the students to start filing in the room. He was positive he'd had a mini-panic attack.
It was a really long and annoying blur, but it went fine. It was strange how friendly people are when you don't see them for a while. Then the day was prolonged by the fact Spencer had work that night. He enjoyed his work place but it was a Wednesday. Which meant standing around until someone drops their unnecessarily large bucket of popcorn.
Spencer got an ushering job at movie theater. He always loved the movies. He escaped his own world for a while. Although cleaning every theater and bathroom gets pretty dull after an hour. He desperately wanted to slam his forehead into the front desk. His trainer, or once was, came by before he could make an attempt.
"We should be all set after 12 so then you can go home." Spencer's head perked up at her words.
"Really? Damn."
She smiled, "Quick shift?"
"Not quick enough," he mumbled, but kind of felt bad about complaining. She laughed though, and he relaxed visibly.
He took a shower when he got home then practically passed out, not bothering checking his messages.
The only conscious thought in his mind was to brush his teeth. One of the things he hated the most was leaving the house before brushing his teeth. The tic-tacs in his car were a poor substitute.
Another thing he hated was the radio. He had his favorite Green Day album blasting as he drove through the eerie fog to school. He parked in his usual spot, grabbed his backpack and gym bag, and marched up the grassy, wet hill, twirling his keys all the while. It was quiet. Weirdly quiet.
The door was wide open but the usual bustle of buses and people was non-existent. He was either really early or really late. It wasn't really a concern since he had gym class first.
He scuffled his damp vans across the carpet and trudged up the stairs to where his locker was. There were people in the school after all, mostly adults in black jackets. Also Officer Bill and a couple other cops. Spencer was too tired to really care though.
Spencer put his gym bag down next to his locker then grabbed his French binder. A middle-aged man approached him at his locker.
"Hey, kid, didn't ya hear the news? Go home," and just as soon as the nearly-bald man had walked over he walked back across the hallway. Spencer was dumbfounded, his countenance pure confusion. He saw the man walk into Mr. Vorro's room. Mr. Vorro was an old family friend and Spencer had him last year for Anatomy.
He gingerly stepped into the room and saw cops, forensic people, Mr. Vorro, and... Mr. Cooper.
Raymond Cooper, or more commonly known as Coach Ray, was a chemistry teacher at Spencer's high school and the coach of both the girls' and boys' Volleyball teams. He wasn't exactly fit but he was average for the middle aged man he was. Spencer was only an inch taller than him.
Mr. Cooper was face down on the light blue tiles in the front of the class, laying in a pool of his own blood. His hands were beside his head, as a feeble attempt to break his fall. The right hand was tinted with blood. Small yellow signs with black numbers on them surrounded him and were scattered across the room.
"Oh, my God," his voice came out louder than he wanted, cracking slightly. Spencer became the center of attention.
"Ay, who the hell let the kid in?," a stout, grey-haired man demanded through his jowls. Judging by his pantsuit, he was the one running things. A chorus of "get outta here"s assailed Spencer and he was promptly dragged out of the classroom. He wrestled himself out of the strong grasp and starting passing up and down the hallway. The door slammed shut. Spencer raked his long fingers through his faded black hair, breathing labordly.
"It's alright," a woman's voice cooed, standing in front of the door. Spencer jumped out of his skin.
"When did you get there?!," he stopped passing, at least, staring at her. She looked familiar, but Spencer dismissed it as seeing her in the room just then.
"My name is Emily. What's yours?" She was distracting him, or trying to. Spencer knew this technique. He had to diffuse Nick's quick temper countless times. Nick still ended up breaking something and getting thrown out of the house sometimes, but he never hurt anyone. Corrine was the magic one. She could fix anything... where was Corrine...
"Hey," a man slipped out of the room and walked towards Spencer, blocking his path with his arms crossed. "What did you see?," his voice was deep but sounded so young. He was bald with perfect, black eyebrows creased in concentration.
"I... the, the blood o-on his h-hand," Spencer swallowed thickly. "The blood on his fingers could indicate a head wound considering his hands were next to his head, but the puddle of blood was under his abdominal area and not under his head, therefore the bloody wound was not from his head. Why is there blood on his fingers? He must have touched his bloody abdomen before ultimately collapsing from-"
"Breath, Pretty Boy, breathe," the burly bald man held Spencer's shoulders firmly, forcing his gaze to move from the floor to the deep brown eyes in front of him. He did as ordered, his chest expanding, contracting, expanding, contracting... "You alright?"
"Yeah... yeah, I'm good," Spencer answered with a pinecone in his throat. He never freaked out like that. Maybe he was watching way too many crime shows.
"I guess you didn't get the memo that school was cancelled, huh?," the man asked gently.
"I... yeah, no. I should've checked snapchat this morning," Spencer mumbled to himself. He turned back to the man in front of him, briefly registering the gun holster on his hip. "I should, um, go," Spencer said as he picked up his gym bag. Just as he turned around to walk back to the stairs, a deep voice rang throughout the hallway.
"What's your name, kid?," the man asked, seemingly amused.
"Reid. Uh, Spencer Reid, sorry," Spencer turned back to the man again.
"Derek Morgan," the man held out his hand. Spencer shifted his things to the other hand, holding the binder close to his chest. He took the hand firmly and shook it once. "Nice to meet you, Reid." The teenager laughed awkwardly.
"You too, Mor-...," Spencer's eyes became saucers. "You're not... no-not THE Agent Derek Morgan of the BAU, are you?," his voice rose an octave as the words rushed past his lips. Derek chuckled.
"That would be me," he gave a dazzling smile. Spencer took a step back as if physically moved by the words. He looked to Emily.
"And you're Agent Prentiss. Wow. What the hell," he could barely hear himself through the heartbeat in his ears. Emily smiled sweetly.
"You watch our show?," she asked.
"It's...," my favorite!, he wanted to say, but thought it over. "Interesting," he finished calmy. He was not going to freak out because his fucking idols were investigating a murder in his school. Oh my God, was it a murder?
"Was Mr. Cooper murdered?," he couldn't help but ask. The logical side of him already told him the answer, but the small optimist inside his head begged for a different answer. Derek and Emily shared a brief look then turned back to Spencer. Emily opened her mouth to answer him, but Derek took to spotlight.
"C'mon, Pretty Boy, you know what happened, judging by your deduction." Emily not-so-subtly smacked Derek on the forearm and mouthed something to him. "He's a smart kid; I can tell." Emily retained her death glare.
"It's okay, it's not the first dead body I've seen," Spencer added nonchalantly. Emily's eyes widened at the comment.
"Well, it's still not protocol to talk about case details to civilians, no matter how many shows said civilian has watched."
"I wasn't talking about shows, but alright," Spencer started back down the hallway with feigned disinterest. Of course he only meant TV shows... but some of them were really graphic!
"Reid," Derek called again. Spencer stopped and threw his head back.
"What?," he yelled in the hallway, annoyed.
"Wanna learn something today?," he asked. Spencer twirled around to see Derek's smirk.
"You... no," he said softly. "You don't actually mean..."
"Yeah, why not?," Derek shrugged. Emily sighed and opened the door to the crowded room. Derek caught the door and used it as a barrier between the two of them and the room of cops. "Tell me something, Reid. Who's your favorite?"
"My- Oh," Spencer hummed in thought, well more like said "ah" to pretend he was thinking it over. "I don't really have one." Derek dropped the smile.
"You have one it's just not me," the burly man grumbled.
"That's not true," Spencer defended automatically. He mentally slapped himself. Derek's smile returned.
"Oh yeah?," he asked softly. Spencer felt the heat invade his cheeks and looked away.
"Can we profile the unsub already?," Spencer mumbled. Derek laughed and opened the door to reveal the scene.
Spencer felt like he was watching himself from a distance. He'd gotten invited to a crime scene. By The Derek Morgan. And Corrine said all the shows would rot his head. Look who's rotting now! ... oh... oh, God... that's not... oh no.
An: Imma be honest with Y'all but this was literally gonna be a vent fic about everything that was happening in my life at the moment but I was like "i'll try ACTUAL PLOT"
probably not turning out as well as everyone hoped. OH WELL. practice makes perfect, right?
Spencer is more based on the show now instead of my pent up teenage angst. Sorry. Personally I don't think I'm goth but more pUNK ALTERNATIVE. not really. I like Green Day tho.
P.S. the flirty vibes between Morgan and Reid were completely accidental. I tried to sound canon, but I guess Morgan flirts with him in canon? idk take it as you will