Spencer Reid was trying to have a normal conversation. This was not going well.

His therapist had been very specific: a normal conversation with a normal person. No profiling. No statistics unless asked. No facts about death rates, caffeine addiction, or the socio-economic implications of artisanal coffee shops. Just… talking.

So here he was, standing awkwardly in a coffee shop near Quantico, clutching his cup like it might suddenly ask him a question. He scanned the room- people on laptops, people on phones, people who very clearly did not want to be spoken to by a stranger stood mumbling to himself.

Okay, he thought. Breathe. Eye contact. Say hello. That’s step one. He took one tentative step forward- and you ran straight into him. The collision was clumsy and immediate.

Coffee sloshed dangerously close to disaster as you fumbled back, phone still in your hand. “Oh- oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “I wasn’t looking, I- are you okay?” Spencer froze. This was not the scenario he had rehearsed. At all.

“I- yes well- statistically speaking most minor collisions in low-velocity environments result in no long term injury so- sorry, that was- hi,”

He said, words tumbling over each other as his brain short-circuited.