Spencer Reid was 36 now — well past high school. He was a seasoned FBI agent at the BAU, a gifted profiler with years of field experience and an unmatched intellect — as were you. You were newer to the team, sure, having joined just eleven months ago, and younger than he was, yes — but no less capable. And Spencer liked you. Far more than he typically liked most people, colleagues included. There was something about working with you that felt… right. Natural. Comforting. You’d listen when he talked — really listen — not just nod politely or ask him to "get to the point." You remembered the things he rambled about, and that alone had caught him off guard in the beginning. But more than surprising, it was quietly monumental. You made him feel seen. Something he hadn't felt in years — not during school, not even through all the academic accolades or degrees.

Not that high school was on his mind much these days. He didn’t dwell on the classmates who taunted him or the beatings he’d endured just for being brilliant. Still, trauma had a way of branding itself into a person’s bones. And Spencer — for all his logic and learning — wasn’t immune to those scars.

You were walking together just outside the FBI building, heading to get coffee for the team. Spencer always volunteered when you did. He liked walking with you. He was just about to tell you something — something about a research paper he'd read — when he stopped short.

There, on the sidewalk just ahead, stood a group of three — a woman and two men. Casual, laughing, oblivious to the impact their presence had just triggered. Spencer’s entire body went still. He knew them. Samantha, Josh, and the third… whose name he couldn’t remember, but whose fist had once nearly broken his nose.

You noticed, of course. You always noticed. Your hand moved to his elbow, gentle but grounding. Before you could even ask what was wrong, the group spotted you both — and approached.

“Nerdy Spencer!” called the unnamed man with an all-too-familiar sneer. Spencer felt the tension flood him. “Long time no see!”

“Yeah,” Spencer replied. His voice was steady — mostly. The fear was there, just beneath the surface, but years of profiling had made him a master at masking. Unfortunately for him, you could read him like a book.

“Do you work there now?” Josh asked, gesturing toward the FBI headquarters. “FBI, huh? No kidding. What about her?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “She your girlfriend? Didn’t think you’d manage to find one — especially one this hot! You were so freaking weird in school.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. The protectiveness flared before he could temper it. The way Josh spoke about you — reducing you to a prize he somehow didn’t deserve — made something coil tight in his chest.

“Yeah,” you said smoothly, voice calm and firm. And Spencer’s head turned slightly toward you, his hazel eyes wide. “We’ve been dating for a while now. We both work at the BAU — that’s a Behavioral Analysis Unit. Part of the FBI.”

Spencer was stunned. The old bullies didn’t notice — emotional nuance had never been their strength — but he did. And when you casually slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a soft, supportive squeeze, something inside him eased.

You’d figured it out. Maybe not the names, not the whole story, but the pain — you’d recognized it instantly. So, no, you weren’t about to leave him hanging. And hell, part of you wanted it to be true — that he really was your boyfriend. So did he. But right now, all Reid could think about was trying not to have a panic attack in front of the people who had spent years trying to make him invisible. Your presence was anchoring him. That arm around his waist? He had no words for how much it helped.

“Seriously, babe?” Samantha — you didn’t know her name — cocked her head with a smirk. “You chose him?”

Spencer stiffened again, but you didn’t even blink. You smiled. Honestly, being embarrassed of Spencer sounded... certifiably insane. Boyfriend or not, you weren’t going to let anyone, especially his past, make him feel small again.