Spencer Reid one-shots

lightbulb

You walked into your lecture hall. Your professor smiled at you as you sat down in the second row, opening your notebook. Most everyone else used laptops or tablets but you liked being what they called 'old-fashioned.'

Your professor began your lecture by explaining that you had two guest lecturers from the FBI. You rolled your eyes, knowing that two alpha males were going to come in and talk to everyone about the amazing-ness that was their day job. They would cater to the men in the room and blatantly disregard the women, their egos would be too big, and they'd probably be fit as fiddles.

You refused to look up as they entered, not bothering to care. They began to introduce themselves and you crossed your arms, smirking lightly. An older man stood at the podium, with what looked like his assistant behind him. This was not who you expected, but he was still probably egotistical and testosterone filled bully who enjoyed taking his anger out on people by claiming it was interrogation.

"I'm Special Agent David Rossi. I was a founder of the BAU - the behavioral analysis unit. I recently came back to the field after publishing a novel about my time as a profiler. In college I majored in criminal justice, like many of you I assume, with this being the psychology of criminals."

You smiled gently, seeing that this man was not as arrogant as you imagined. You were ok with admitting your faults, but you were not often wrong with your assumptions.

The skinny man behind Agent Rossi looked up and gave the room a tight-lipped smile. "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I hold doctorates in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering as well as B.A.'s in psychology and sociology," he said looking around, his hand fidgeting slightly. Everyone became silent, no keys typing or pens clicking.

A girl that sat at the end of your row asked, "how old are you?" You laughed silently, thinking the same thing.

"I'm 27, as of last month I turned 27. I'm also completing an additional B.A. in philosophy. Which reminds me that I have a joke. How many existentialists does it take to screw a lightbulb?" He 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 incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness," he said. The room was silent still, until you laughed. His eyes looked up at your in confusion.

"Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope that the bulb decided to light again? An existentialist would never change the bulb. He would allow the darkness to exist," you replied, leaning back in your seat, your voice monotone as if you didn't care.

But you did care. You cared that people didn't think you were too smart. That they didn't purposefully wish for you to fail. You never told anyone about your dreams for the future because of this. Because jealous people could move mountains to impede others from success.

Dr. Reid's eyes met yours, a surge of happiness filling them. "Yeah, that's pretty good," he said before going back to explaining the psychology of a serial killer. Agent Rossi raised his eyebrow at you and smirked, turning back to the screen. You were rather intrigued by the presentation but didn't bother to write anything down. Rather, you just closed your notebook and paid attention.

As class ended, you packed your bag and walked to your professor. Dr. Panlotel, your professor, beamed at you as you approached him. "Miss Y/L/N, my star pupil, what may I do for you?"

"I had a quick question about the essay due next week. I know you asked for only 10 pages but after getting completely caught up in my argument I ended up writing 12. I just wanted to make sure that going over wouldn't cause me to lose any points," you said quickly, hoping his answer would be no. If not then you'd have to rewrite your argument and condense your thinking , and, frankly, you hated to do that.