Criminal Minds Imagines

california winter - spencer reid

another little fic about young geniuses reader and Spencer Reid who live together post bachelor's degrees from cal tech. I love writing these throwback fics, they always make me so soft and emosh🥺

Spencer Reid, your fellow young prodigy, doubled as both your best friend and extremely annoying roommate. You were both only eighteen, exceptionally young for being college graduates. Spencer was working towards his doctorate in psychology while you were doing stem cell research in a lab near CalTech. You had a routine, and it was good.

Most of the time.

"Spencer, go to bed," you groaned, slumping through the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He was sat at the small dining room table, hunched over a stack of flash cards. "Studying," he mumbled, barely acknowledging your presence.

"Can you study without blasting Mozart?" You huffed, one hand on your hip as you sipped at your water. "I'm trying to get some beauty sleep before I have to stare at a microscope for twelve hours straight."

"Studies show that classical music increases productivity and enhances brain activity," he rattled off nonchalantly, always speaking as though he was Google incarnate.

"And studies show that a lack of sleep does the complete opposite." You pressed stop on his speaker.

He looked up at you finally, leaning over to turn it back on. "Classical music should help you fall asleep faster."

"Yeah, well, it's doing the opposite," you snipped, punching the stop button again. "Haven't you ever heard of headphones?"

Always stubborn, the soon-to-be young doctor pressed play again without missing a beat. "And damage my perfectly fine hearing? No, thank you."

You groaned, stomping away to put your empty glass in the sink. "You can be an absolute prick sometimes."

When you turned to glare at him, he had the audacity to look amused. "Did you just call me a British slang term for a penis?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, I did. Prick, dick, twisted up ballsack. Take your pick, I've got plenty of options."

"You can be so childish," he scoffed, returning his gaze back down to the card in his hands.

Now that, that turned your blood hot. No one ever, ever called you childish. In fact, you spent your whole life proving to people you weren't childish, especially in college when you were at least four years younger than everyone else. It struck a nerve that you knew Spencer knew about.

You turned on your heel and strode over to the door, heaving on your jacket and slip on shoes.

"Where are you going? It's nearly one in the morning," he questioned, though he didn't bother to look at you.

You almost didn't dignify him with an answer, but decided it was ultimately safest to at least give him an idea of where you would be. "Taking a walk around the block. Hopefully by then you'll finish jacking off to Mozart and I can get some sleep."

He spun around to face you then, and you almost reconsidered the Mozart masturbation joke until he spoke, suddenly very serious. "Taking a walk? This late? In Pasadena?"

"That's what I said." You crossed your arms. "Keep up. I thought you were a genius."

He stood, lightning quick, shaking his head. "Uh-uh. You're not going out this late by yourself, especially not dressed like that."

That was it. Your vision turned nearly blurry with the force of annoyance and anger flooding through your veins.

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're not my dad. You can't tell me where I can't go and especially not what I can and can't wear."