Chapter Text
Dr. Spencer Reid sits in his car for a long time, staring up at the brick building in front of him.
Despite the fact that he hasn’t been in high school in fifteen years, he’s still filled with anxiety at the thought of stepping inside.
He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror, sliding a hand through his unruly hair. Blowing out a breath, he tells himself firmly, “You are not some helpless little kid anymore, Spencer. You’re an adult. You can do this.”
There are only a handful of other cars in the lot, all teachers. He’ll have this first week to get settled in his classroom, meet the other staff, and silently dread the day that students start pouring into the building.
Spencer likes kids, he does. They just don’t seem to like him.
He climbs out of his car just as a black Charger veers into the lot, swerving into a parking spot smoothly. One of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen climbs out of the car, dark aviator sunglasses covering his eyes. He smiles, all dazzling white teeth, and makes his way over to Spencer, backpack slung over one shoulder carelessly, “Morning, there, pretty boy. You must be the new AP teacher. I’m Derek Morgan, football coach and geography teacher.” He extends a chocolate colored hand.
Spencer is struck sort of dumb, but his brain catches up quickly enough for him to blurt out, “Pretty boy?”
Derek Morgan’s smile somehow stretches, and he’s still holding his hand out, “It’s not an insult.”
Spencer reluctantly shakes his hand, despite the fact that he doesn’t do handshakes, and clears his throat twice before he’s able to say, “My name’s Spencer. Uh, Dr. Spencer Reid.”
Derek’s eyebrows shoot up on his painfully perfect face, and his hand is warm and rough where it’s wrapped around Spencer’s own, “Doctor? How old are you?”
”I’m twenty-eight,” Spencer answers, feeling a blush start to burn across his face. He’s not used to being noticed, and definitely not by beautiful, muscley men who are so very obviously out of his league.
And, most likely, straight.
Derek lets go of his hand to clap him on the shoulder, steering him gently towards the school, “Well, Doctor Reid, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Let’s get in there before Strauss kicks our asses for being late.”
Spencer lets himself be led into the building, vaguely thinking that maybe high school won’t be so bad this time around.
—
By the time Spencer and Derek arrive in the gym, the rest of the staff seem to have already gathered. Principal Strauss is standing in front of the staff scattered across the bleachers, wearing a cream colored skirt suit and looking deeply stressed out already.
Derek offers her a sloppy salute before sliding onto the first row of bleachers, tapping knuckles with a few of his coworkers.
Strauss waves Spencer over before he can follow Derek, offering him a tired smile, “Good morning, Dr. Reid. It’s a pleasure to have you with us.”
Spencer finds himself smiling as he says, “I’m happy to be here, ma’am.”
Clearly not a woman of pleasantries, Strauss nods him over to his coworkers and turns to start tapping away at her phone.
For a moment, panic beings to seep back in. But then Derek is waving him over, that mega-watt smile back on his face, “Hey, Doc, come on over here.”
Spencer approaches, desperately fighting his own smile and the attraction brewing in his chest. He knows better than to fall for guys like Derek, but his heart is a little slow to get the message.
Derek gestures at the other teachers around him, “Everyone, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Pretty boy, these are your new coworkers. Penelope Garcia, technical genius and coding extraordinaire.” He points to the vibrantly dressed blonde directly behind him, her brightly painted lips curving into a friendly smile.
“Aaron Hotchner, a.k.a. Hotch, American History teacher and resident teddy bear despite the scowl on his face.” The man in question is, in fact, scowling, dressed in a full suit, bright red tie knotted expertly at his throat. He gives Spencer a terse nod.
Derek gestures to the man beside him, who looks almost as young as Spencer, “Will LaMontagne, guidance counselor and total badass.”
The rest of them laugh, and Will smiles softly, his voice surprisingly accented, “Welcome, Spencer. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
”Emily Prentiss, dodgeball queen and AP English teacher,” Derek moves on, pointing to the raven haired woman sitting on the other side of Hotch. She smirks at him.
Spencer swallows heavily, barely suppressing his stutter, “Dodgeball?”
“The teachers play against each other at the start of the school year. Emily’s been the winning captain three years in a row,” another blonde woman says, grinning ruefully at the dark haired woman.
“Soon to be four years in a row,” Emily gloats, looking entirely self assured.
Spencer tries not to let his panic show on his face, but Derek notices the strangled look on his face and leans closer to say, “Don’t worry, you’ll be on my team.” He winks, then goes right back to the introductions. “The lovely lady right here is Jennifer Jareau, former guidance counselor, current P.E. and girls’ volleyball coach.”
”Call me JJ,” the blonde smiles warmly at him.
“The scoundrel to my right is David Rossi, personal tormentor of Principal Strauss and Home Ec teacher.” The man in question is graying at the temples, but looks no less capable of getting up to no good when he turns his devilish grin on Spencer.
He bows slightly, uttering a smooth greeting in Italian.
“And, finally, this is Luke Alvez. Algebra II teacher and newest member of the staff besides you.” Luke nods to Spencer, looking so cool and comfortable that Spencer is immediately jealous.
Gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly, Spencer does his best to appear normal as he says, “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m looking forward to working here.” He slides onto the bleachers next to Derek, who waggles his eyebrows and knocks his knee against Spencer’s as Strauss begins her speech.
“Good morning, all. I hope you had a restful summer vacation.” Strauss does not seem particularly invested in how their summers went, and she continues on, all business, “We have a new teacher joining us this year, Dr. Spencer Reid.” All eyes swivel to him, and he waves uncomfortably. “I expect you all to make him feel welcome.” Strauss pauses threateningly, then continues on after a beat. She goes over the basics of the holidays and fire alarm drills, the lunch duty rotations, and a collection of other things that Spencer doesn’t really need to pay attention to.
Derek Morgan is still bumping his knee, making it impossible to pay attention to anything else.
—
Spencer finds his classroom at the end of one of the halls on the second floor. He’s directly across from David’s room, who is blaring some Italian opera from his open doorway as he chops vegetables.
Apparently, most students take his class just to be able to eat his food.
Judging by the delicious smells wafting into the hall, Spencer can understand where they’re coming from. He can’t cook to save his life, and he finds himself gravitating towards the doorway instead of to his own classroom.
Dave looks up from the cutting board, shouting a greeting in Italian, “Come in, come in. You’re just in time to taste my Carbonara di Rossi.”
Spencer steps further into the room, and once the music has been reduced to background noise, he says, “I hope I’m not intruding.”
David waves a hand dismissively, scooping up a spoonful of sauce that’s been bubbling away on a burner. “Nonsense, I cook to share. Here, taste.” He offers the spoon expectantly, eyebrows raised.
Spencer blows on it for a moment before tasting, momentarily stunned at the flavors exploding in his mouth. “That’s amazing,” he admits, vaguely wishing he could take David’s class.
Dave grins, smug, “I’ll show you how to make it sometime. Now, what are you doing all the way over in this neck of the woods?”
”I, uh, requested a room with a blackboard,” Spencer says carefully, shifting uncomfortably.
Dave claps his hands together, returning to the cutting board to begin slicing mushrooms, “Old school. I like it. So, how early did you have to graduate to get a doctorate so young?”
Spencer hates this question, hates the awkward silence after he admits the truth. Mostly, though, he hates how much people seem to dislike him when they discover that he’s quite literally the smartest person in the room. So he deflects, though not very well, “Um, high school or college?”
”Either. Both.” Dave answers, setting his knife down to give Spencer his full attention.
Trying not to visibly wince, Spencer admits softly, “I graduated high school when I was twelve. I got my first doctorate when I was seventeen.”
David whistles, looking impressed, “Hot damn. First doctorate? You’re a regular boy genius.” He doesn’t seem put off in the slightest, which is such a welcome relief that a smile spreads over Spencer’s face.
Before he can say anything more, Derek Morgan appears in the doorway, smiling, “Hey, pretty boy. You lucked out being neighbors with Rossi here. You’ll never go hungry.”
”Derek, my young ward, I was just about to come and find you. Lunch will be served momentarily.” Dave turns back to his food, tasting and adjusting flavors, and pulling out three plates for the three of them.
Derek nods Spencer over to one of the lab tables, sliding onto a stool, “So, Spencer, it’s tradition that we have a staff poker game after the first day. You in?”
Spencer’s lips twitch into a smile as he considers playing poker with his new coworkers. Trying to appear casual, trying to ignore his ratcheting pulse, he nods, “Yeah, that sounds fun. I don’t know how much fun I’ll be at cards, but I’m down to give it a try.”
Derek winks, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
Spencer tries not to laugh, looking down as a blush burns his cheeks.
—
Staring up at the mansion in front of him, Spencer beings to wonder if this was the best idea.
Taking a deep breath, he adjusts his tie and wipes his damp palms on his pants. He knocks on the door, halfway expecting it to be a stranger and for this to be some elaborate prank.
But the door is thrown open only moments later, Penelope standing on the threshold wearing a dark purple sheath dress and black stilettos that look positively terrifying. “Spencer!” She greets warmly, reeling him in to kiss both of his cheeks.
Spencer flushes under her affection, certain there are bright red lip marks on his face. “Hello, Penelope.”
”I was hoping you were Luke, so I could slam the door in his stupid face,” Penelope confides, looking vaguely disappointed that the opportunity hadn’t presented itself.
“You don’t like him?” Spencer asks as she shoves a glass of red wine into his hands. He doesn’t have the heart to admit that he doesn’t drink, so he just holds it and waits for the right opportunity to set it down.
Penelope shakes her head and laughs, not unlike a super villain, “Oh, no, I despise him. He is, in fact, my arch nemesis.”
Spencer chuckles, taken aback, “Oh, um, that’s…your nemesis?”
Penelope nods very seriously, “Yes, most definitely. It is my sole purpose in life to destroy him.”
”Good luck?” Spencer offers, unsure.
Derek appears around the corner, a bottle of beer in one hand. He throws an arm over Penelope’s shoulders, and Spencer’s heart shrivels in his chest, “Baby girl, you keeping Dr. Reid all to yourself in here?”
Penelope leans into the embrace, flirting back, “Not at all, my chocolate thunder. You know you’re all the man I need.”
”Ooh,” Derek looks up at Spencer and drops a wink, “watch out for my girl here, pretty boy. She’s a feisty one.”
”You’re a couple?” Spencer finds himself asking, immediately regretting the question.
Penelope elbows Derek in the ribs, laughing, “Ha! He wishes!” A knock on the door has her rushing back into the entryway, moving unnervingly fast for how tall her shoes are.
Derek rubs at his side, gaze soft as he looks at Spencer, “I’m actually not into women.”
Spencer blushes all the way to the roots of his hair, and he finds it exceedingly difficult to meet Derek’s gaze. “O-oh,” he stutters out, hating himself for the flutters of hope stirring in his chest, “that’s—I’m, uh—m-me too.”
The front door slams loudly from the foyer, followed by Penelope shouting, “Suck it, newb!”
Luke’s reply is muffled from the other side of the door, “I’m not even the new guy anymore! Come on, Penelope!”
Derek gives Spencer a look he can’t decipher and nods towards the foyer, “I better go handle that before things get out of hand. Dave and Hotch are in the kitchen if you want to go ahead in.”
Spencer watches him disappear back the way they came, hears him smoothly coerce Penelope into letting their coworker inside. Smiling to himself, he turns in the direction Derek had indicated and goes in search of the kitchen.
Dave is, unsurprisingly, at the stove cooking something that smells divine when Spencer stumbles in. He grins, looking genuinely happy to see Spencer, “Dr. Reid, welcome to my not-so-humble abode! Make yourself comfortable. What’s mine is yours, except for the scotch on the top shelf of the liquor cabinet. That’s mine and only mine.”
Spencer finds himself chuckling, setting his wine glass down carefully, “That’s fine with me. I, ah, I don’t drink.”
“More for me, then,” Hotch grumbles stiffly, commandeering the wine glass and draining it quickly. He slumps down on the bar stool he’s seated at, pouring himself another glass from one of the several bottles on the counter.
Dave frowns at the other man, rolling his eyes at Spencer, “Don’t let him bother you. He’s sulking over his ex-wife. Aaron, I have already told you, if you’re going to drink yourself to death, do it with the cheap wine.”
Hotch grumbles some more into his glass, effectively retreating from any and all conversation.
Dave rolls his eyes again, turning back to the stove. “Spencer,” he calls over his shoulder, a wooden spoon in his hand, “will you grab the carton of cream out of the fridge for me?”
”Sure,” he goes over to the monstrous chrome fridge, pulling out the cream and passing it over.
As he fetches a few more ingredients around the spacious kitchen, he gets this odd feeling in his chest. A few more of their coworkers trickle in, all offering him warm hellos and smiles.
For the first time in his entire life, Spencer is starting to feel like he belongs somewhere.