Spencer Reid: Oneshots

Nailed It

Summary: A soccer game gone wrong puts Reader and Spencer in a unique position together.

"Why exactly am I here?"

"It's one of those things where they say it's optional, but if you don't show up, you're screwed." Your coworker, Jonah, grinned at you.

You sighed. "I bet the high ups don't have to show."

"Apparently they do though. I believe I see a BAU unit chief and section chief, the IRT leader—"

"Point taken," you mumbled.

"You know, Y/N, some people don't think of social interaction as a chore but rather something enjoyable. Try it."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "I'm here to make sure my potential bosses don't hate me, so my damn internship will end."

"Pretty sure half of the bureau interns have the same idea as you."

You exhaled upon seeing the mass of workers and their families gathered on the grounds outside the Quantico office for a 'bonding picnic.' "Bullshit."

"Don't let the director hear you say that," he joked.

"As if he's here. The guy's probably in the Maldives with a 20 year old model."

"21." Jonah smirked. "And now I am seeing the absolute beefcake from the IRT walk by, so I will go to him instead."

"Jonah, Matt Simmons is married with multiple children."

"Hasn't stopped me before," he said, grinning.

"You're the worst, please don't leave me alone. I can only tolerate you."

Jonah pat your shoulder. "Go make a friend."

"You act like I'm 4."

"A 4 year old could interact with these people better than you."

You frowned. "Well—"

"Bye!"

You awkwardly swung your arms back and forth, standing on the side of the gathering. Part of you wanted to just send it to the food and run away, but then you realized that would involve small talk about the cute little sandwiches!

"I'd rather die," you whispered to yourself.

"Who are you talking to?"

You jumped back, clutching your chest. "OH MY GOD!"

A little blonde boy looked up at you.

You cleared your throat. "Are you uh lost?"

"No." He blinked at you.

"Uhm okay..." You awkwardly looked around. "Why are you here?"

"You're talking to a ghost."

You rubbed the back of your neck. "I am not."

"I don't see anyone."

"Because I was...singing. To myself. Because I like to sing." You smiled.

"Oh, oh! Sing to me!"

Your eyes widened. "My throat is sore, another time, perhaps. I'm sorry, where are your parents?"

"My mommy and daddy are with their agent friends."

"Uhuh..."

"I'm Henry." The young boy smiled brightly.

"Hello..." This is so weird.

"Where's your kid? I don't have any friends here."

"I uhm I don't have any." You pursed your lips.