"How many existentialists does it take to screw a lightbulb?" Spencer asked with a small laugh.
Once again the room was silent. You faintly heard Agent Rossi mutter, "Don't."
"2. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an...
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Spencer stood dumbstruck as you left him standing on the steps. He grinned slightly** and pulled out his phone.
"Garcia, I need a favor," he began, hearing her screech on the other end.
"Doctor Reid anything for you," she replied, smiling from ear to ear. "And I mean anything."
Spencer flushed, Garcia's flirting still confusing him after all these years. "I need a name for one of the students in the class Rossi and I just lectured in."
"One moment, I'm pulling up the roster at Georgetown. Alright, there's 104 students in that class. 47 are female," Garcia explained, keys clicking in the background.
"She's a philosophy major," Spencer added, hoping that would narrow it down.
"3 philosophy majors in that class. Any other hints?" Garcia asked.
"Philosophy and neuroscience, try a double major," Spencer suggested.
"Aha, miss Y/F/N, a criminal justice, philosophy, and neuroscience triple major with a minor in chemistry and psychology. Boy, she's one smart cookie. At this rate she's going to graduate summa cum laude in all 3 majors with 3 distinct honors. I'd say she's the female version of you, Mr. 187," Garcia exclaimed.
"Thank you Penelope," Spencer replied, smiling at the information he had just learned.
"Why the interest in a 21 year old in college?"
"I found her book and wanted to return it," Spencer fibbed.
"Mhm, what's the real reason boy genius?"
"She actually understood my lightbulb joke," Spencer responded truthfully.
"A special girl she is then," Garcia said with a hint of surprise in her voice. "Happy flirting Dr. Reid," she added as she hung up. Spencer laughed lightly and sat on a bench outside of the building, reading his novel as he waited for your class to end.
An hour and a half later you walked out of your neuroanatomy class, trying to figure out the hippocampus circuit in your brain and hoping it was working in saving whatever bits of that lecture you understood. "Y/N," you heard a voice call. You rolled your eyes and turned around, seeing none other than Dr. Reid standing by a bench, a book in hand.
"Dr. Reid, I know you find stalkers for a living, but it appears you are becoming one," you teased walking up to him.
"I figured out your name," he said softly as you reached him.
"Took you long enough. How did you do it?" you asked, trying to stop a grin from forming on your face. You couldn't help it, he was just so cute.
"I phoned a friend," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You had someone in the FBI look me up didn't you?" you asked, a mortified look on your face. He nodded sheepishly. You bit the inside of your cheek. "That's cheating," you added, watching his lips form a small smile.
"You never said I couldn't use my resources," he retorted. "Now, what does a guy have to do to get your number?" You smiled at the question, moving your weight between your feet.
"Well seeing as you cheated, you can profile me over a cup of coffee. If you're correct, you can have my number," you offered, hoping he would say yes. You didn't know why but you had an urge to spend more time with him.
"Deal," he replied.
"You don't want to know what happens if you're wrong?" you countered, enjoying the banter you had going. You inferred that he wasn't like this with many people, seeing how his presentation was received. But you enjoyed that he could keep up with you. Or that you were interesting enough to keep up with him.
"I'm never wrong," he said surely, gesturing for you to walk in front of him.
"There's that FBI ego," you muttered, smiling at him as you started towards your favorite coffee shop.
