I've been dying to write a young!Reid one whoop freaking whoop lets go tiny college boy!! I accidentally made the plot super long oops this is part one

side note: this is platonic because friendship imagines are so under appreciated and I love them sm like not everyone has to fall in love you know? but anyways please don't let that scare you off it's still cute and fluffy I promise

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"The order of the torsion group of an abelian variety over a number field can be bounded in terms of the dimension of the variety and the number field," you heard someone say from the row behind you. You, along with the entire class - professor included - turned to look at the person who answered the question. Everyone was a little shocked to end up laying eyes on a guy who practically looked like a kid. He shifted uncomfortably, making you smile. He was definitely wildly awkward, wildly smart, and wildly cute. You liked him instantly.

"And your name is?" Professor Colby called, the whole class in a stunned silence still. You were glad to be sitting so close, because you could actually see his blush get deeper.

"I-I'm Spencer Reid," he mumbled, and you expected Professor Colby to ask him to speak up, but he didn't. You realized that even halfway back in the rows, just a murmur was audible in the quiet.

"Well, Mr. Reid, I'm not sure why you're here. I ask this bonus question on the first day of all my classes, and solving it by the end of the semester is the goal. The goal is not to show off in front of the entire class and spoil their bonus opportunity," he scolded, and the silence was soon dropped for the entire class either giggling or whispering. Spencer was visibly trying to compress himself into a smaller being, which was almost impressive considering how skinny he was to start. A wave of anger came over you, seeing the entire class team up against the guy. Part of you wanted to call out in his defense, but part of you knew two people going against Colby would mean two people kicked out. If he felt challenged on only one small front, it was more likely that he'd let Spencer live.

"So. For those of us who don't enter a mathematics course already knowing the material, we're going to get right to work. Don't groan at me now, open your books - which you were specifically required to order, remember! - page 117, class..." You're sure Professor Colby goes on, but you stop listening, throwing your book open to a random page. Instead, you turn to face Spencer, who is frantically searching for the page.

"Hey," you whisper, tapping on the table space nearest him. He doesn't look up, just runs his finger over the pages, mouth hanging open slightly. After another moment of tapping, you realize he's reading. His eyes are physically moving over the words at a speed you cannot fathom. Your own mouth starts to hang open, absolutely floored by this kid's ability.

"Holy shit," you whisper to yourself, and Spencer's finger stops moving.

"That was originally holy Mother or holy God, as in early Western society using the Lord's name in vain was a much larger sin. Now that our culture is less heavily influenced by religion and that commandment has little power, religious terms are swapped for vulgarities, like shit. Best way to get the same shock value that holy God would have gotten," he explains quietly, and once he's done, his finger starts moving over the pages again. You have to work hard to pick your jaw up off the floor. Spencer gets more and more impressive every second.

"You doing anything after this class?" You ask him, and now he stops, looking up at you this time. His brows are furrowed and he studies you like he's trying to decide who you are.

"It's Friday," he answers, and you bite back a smile.

"I know what day of the week it is, holy boy, that's not really an answer," you tease, but he just looks more confused.

"Holy boy?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Sounded better than torsion conjecture boy," you explain, and he finally cracks a smile. He shakes his head no, and you assume it means he's free. You smile broadly and extend your hand for him to shake.

"I'm (Y/N). After this, you're coming to my apartment, I'm making dinner, and we're going to become best freaking friends. Sound good?" You instruct more than ask, and he smiles nervously. He takes your hand and shakes it awkwardly, making your smile grow.

"Sounds good."

---

"That's all, class, please do the assigned reading and practice for next week's class! We will be using that material!" Colby calls over the sound of slamming notebooks and zipping bags. You glance over your shoulder at Spencer to see him struggling to shove his textbook into his already crammed backpack. You chuckle, reopening your messenger bag.

"Here. I've got room," you offer, reaching an open hand to grab his book from him. He blushes as if you're meeting for the first time again, but hands you the book. You slip it easily into the bag and clasp it shut.

"Nice bag," he states, and you smile up at him, starting to both walk towards the end of your respective rows in order to leave. You pat your bag protectively, pulling it in close to you.

"I love this thing. Two things I never leave the house without: my messenger bag and my converse," you say, and he giggles, looking down. You two are nearly at the set of steps that lead out of the classroom.

"One out two isn't bad, right?" He asks as he steps where you can see his shoes - black converse. You nearly gasp, getting excited instantly. Your own converse are your favorite color, and you tap his toe with yours jokingly.

"Would you look at that! I knew I liked you. Good taste, holy boy," you praise as you two start your decent. He laughs, and you make casual banter the whole way down. Just when you're about to reach the door, though, the professor gets up from his desk as you walk past.

"Reid. Do you think you're better than this class?" Colby asks quietly, grabbing onto Spencer's arm and pulling him aside. You follow, ready to step in and tell Professor Colby to get his hands off Spencer. Spencer takes his free hand behind his back in a fist, and when it's out of Colby's view, he unclenches his hand so his palm is open towards you. You look at your own hands, finding them balled up and releasing like Spencer did. You assume he's saying calm down, so you stay where you are between the stream of students filing out and Spencer.

"No, sir," Spencer answers meekly, and you're close to ignoring his warning and taking out Professor Colby.

"Good. Stop acting like it. You may be young and you may think you're special, but you aren't," he threatens, pushing Spencer away now. He stumbles into you, and you manage to get your arms around his shoulders enough so that you can help him stand up again. You change from furious to gentle in a split second, making sure he gets his balance and brushing off his sweater.

"Sorry about that," he says, looking down in shame. You freeze with your hands on his shoulders, feeling like you just got punched in the gut.

"Spencer, you shouldn't be apologizing. You haven't done anything wrong. Being intelligent isn't a crime, even if it hurts the professor's precious ego, okay?" You reassure him, holding eye contact as much as you can with him glancing away. Your heart sinks to your knees, thinking about how used to this he seems and how apologetic he is over someone else's shitty actions. Part of you starts to wonder what Colby meant by young, and how badly it's affected Spencer. Of course, even you can tell he's younger than you, being the scrawny thing he is, but lots of people are scrawny.

"H-how old are you?" You ask, linking your arm through his and guiding him out of class. He's much more reserved now than the boy you were laughing with a minute ago, and you hate it.

"Seventeen," he mumbles, and you nearly fall over your own feet. Now it's Spencer holding you up as you sputter and cough in utter surprise. Once you catch your breath, you look him up and down.

"Seventeen? Shit, man, I'm like four years older than you, and I'm not even supposed to be in that class, it's extra advanced!" You exclaim, and he just sighs, not nearly as excited as you about his genius-ness. He slips his arm out of yours and quickly maneuvers his way down the hall. You run after him, bumping into people but not really caring. You only manage to catch up to him when he's outside at the bike rack unchaining what you assume to be his bike.

"What the hell, man?" You question, unable to stop the anger that comes out. You were mid conversation and he just ran away. Not cool.

"It's okay, you don't have to pretend you still want to hang out with me," he says, backing up his bike. You move to stand in his way, trapping him between you and the bike rack.

"You're right, I don't have to pretend. I'm not pretending, though, Spencer. You're funny and clearly crazy smart. Unlike Colby, I think having cool, intelligent people in my life is actually rather fun. You haven't scared me off, Spencer, not that easily," you counter, and he just looks at you with sad eyes.

"Not that easily," he repeats dully, climbing onto his bike. He swerves around you, leaving you to watch him bike away slowly, feeling hurt and confused. You look down from your converse and then back up to his pedaling away, unsure of what to do. Then a realization hits you.

You still have Spencer's math book. He may be smart enough to have read half the book already, but you get the feeling it's not something he's going to live without. You feel triumphant, having a surefire way to get him to come back to you. Then the feeling fades, because you realize you have no idea where he lives and vise versa. You can't meet again if you can't find each other, and there's no way you're waiting until next class.

"Shit, shit, shit," you say, stuck for a moment. Yet suddenly, you're back to feeling hopeful. You tear open your bag and yank out his book, frantically opening the front cover. You let out a sigh of relief, thanking god for making Spencer so damn cautious. He's written his name and number inside under the bolded words "Please Return If Found."

You do a quick happy dance, shove the book back into your bag, and hurry home to your apartment. You finally have something to look forward to.