Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Four in Hand ☁️ (PG)

Summary: Spencer needs some help with his tie.

Rating: PG (13+)

Content Warning: None!

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I was late. I was late to an event honoring David Rossi, and he was definitely going to be pissed. I didn't have a good excuse for being late, either— at least, not one I could tell him. The truth was that I was late because I had redone my hair and make-up three times each while getting ready.

Why did I do something so asinine for a work event, you ask?

Well...

"Ugh!"

The noise was the first thing that alerted me to his presence, but once I saw him hiding out behind the entryway pillar, I realized there was no place better suited for him. Spencer Reid was just the kind of guy that seemed to fit right in among anachronistic architecture, hiding from the spotlight and extravagance of a celebrity's event. Especially when he was fumbling with his untied tie.

He didn't normally struggle with such a thing, considering he was the kind of young prodigy who had to dress up to be taken seriously. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had tied his own ties as a toddler.

But things were a little more difficult with a cast covering half of the fingers on his right hand. I had jokingly dubbed it a battle scar, but the truth was that he'd hurt it while falling down the stairs. In my defense, it had happened while we were on a case. It just hadn't been inflicted by a bad guy.

Unless you wanted to blame the dead landlord for not maintaining the wooden staircase. But hey, they say you shouldn't speak ill of the dead.

"You doin' alright there, bud?" I asked, watching the man nearly jump off the ground in shock.

For all my lack of self-awareness, Spencer seemed even worse. But once he realized it was only me, his whole body relaxed. Both of his hands fell to the side as a deep sigh fell from his chest.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're a one-handed man trying to do a two-handed task," I said through a giggle before taking a few steps forward to join him on the side of the stairs.

"Tons of people tie a tie with one hand!" he cried defensively, his words rushing out in that usual, frantic manner. "Haven't you ever heard of Károly Takács, the Hungarian Olympian for pistol firing? I bet he could tie his own tie."

I stared at him for a minute with a pitiful stare. Because no, I had not, in fact, known about the Hungarian pistol-wielding Olympian. I hadn't even know such a sport existed. Spencer caught onto my confusion quickly, and he let his shoulders hunch forward further as he pouted.

It was just adorable enough to make me laugh.

"You might possess a certain level of genius, Spencer, but it is not the kinesthetic kind," I said with a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"What if I just... don't wear one?"

"In there?" I gestured to the open doors leading to a literal red carpet, the sounds of the party rolling into the cool night air. "Rossi will ridicule you forever."

"Fine," he sighed, turning to me with an excited glimmer in his eyes. "Can you help me?"

"Me? I don't know how to tie a tie!" I squeaked.

"You were just making fun of me!" His voice was a similar tune, a nervous laughter bubbling in his chest as he struggled to explain his logic. "If you're going to make fun of me, you should know how to do it yourself."