Tada! So, here is the other idea I had on Monday. Since I was in the printmaking studio for 5 hours yesterday, and then had homework and a St. Niklaus party to go to last night, I was unable to type it up. I just used it as a way to stay awake in Art History today. The movie about the Gothic Cathedral Chartres (you should google it, it's quite beautiful) that we watched was interesting, but her lecture was boring as ever.

Anyway, yes, I pretty much just stole the title of this from 500 Days of Summer. Sorry, I couldn't come up with anything better. And I've taken a bit of liberty with their ages. I know it says Spencer graduated highschool at age 12, but we really don't know what ages he was in other grades. So I made him 9. And Derek is about 14/15, just like your average 9th grader. And this way, they can graduate together. XD

Enjoy. :)

"Please give them back!"

"Make us, freak!"

Spencer's lower lip trembled as one of the boys pulled a thick textbook from his ratty backpack, dropping it to the soggy ground of the local park. As Spencer took a step towards him, he grinned, tossing the bag to another boy.

"Please give me my books," pleaded Spencer. The nine year old fought back tears as five of his fellow ninth graders stood around him.

"Aww, is little bitty Spency gonna cry?" grinned the boy currently holding his backpack. He reached in and pulled out a library book, Le Morte d'Arthur, and dropped it. Spencer cringed as the book landed in a mud puddle with a splat.

He had checked out that book to read to his mother.

With a cry of frustration, Spencer charged at him, pounding the boy's chest with his small fists.

"Give. Them. Back," he cried, accenting each word with a strike.

The boy simply laughed at his efforts, turning and pushing Spencer. He only had time to gasp in surprise before he found himself sprawled in the puddle, the library book lying next to his face.

Spencer struggled into a sitting position, squinting through the water droplets on his glasses. Tears streamed down his face to splatter onto his soaked sweater. The boys simply stood around him and laughed, still tossing the backpack and discarding the books and his homework. Spencer drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his thin arms around his legs.

"Hey!" called a voice behind him. "Leave him alone!"

Spencer spun around to find a dark-skinned boy running towards them, shoving a football into his bag.

The bullies stopped, dropping the backpack to the ground. The new boy reached them, hovering near Spencer.

"Hey man, we were just kidding around. Just having a little fun, right Spency?"

"Shut up, Roger," spat the dark-skinned boy. "Five guys picking on one is not 'having a little fun.'"

"Please, you can't honestly be defending him," snorted Roger. "He's a freak."

The boy stepped forward, placing himself in front of Spencer. "I said, leave him alone." His fists clenched by his sides.

Roger stared him down for a minute before shrugging. "Whatever," he said with a smirk. "Let's go." He motioned to the four others and they stalked away.

The boy sighed, his hands uncurling, and he turned and crouched in front of Spencer. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

Spencer reached out a shaking hand and picked up the soaked Le Morte d'Arthur. He jumped slightly as the boy gently pulled his glasses off and began to dry them on his sleeve. Spencer stared down at the cover. "The library is going to be furious with me," he whispered, tears still running down his face.

The boy returned the glasses to his face, just as gently. "No, don't worry, kid. I'll make sure the librarian knows who really did this."

Spencer looked up at him, his honey brown eyes wide. "W-Why?"

The boy looked confused. "'Cause you didn't ruin it, so you shouldn't have to pay for it."

Spencer shook his head. "Why are you helping me?" he asked, his voice a bit wary.

"'Cause those guys are assholes and I don't like to see someone being hurt," he said honestly. "My dad always taught me to help others," he added quietly.

Spencer was shocked by the amount of sadness that suddenly flooded those dark brown eyes. He worried his lip, unsure what to say.

The boy smiled a little, shaking his head. "I'll help you pick up your stuff." He straightened up and moved away, bending to collect the discarded text books, folders, and papers. He paused as he reached for one book. "Hey, this is a ninth grade science book," he called.

"That would be because I'm in the ninth grade," replied Spencer quietly.

The boy looked back at him, his face confused. "Really?"

Spencer nodded, staring at the ground.

"That's awesome."

His head shot up to see the boy grinning at him. "We're in the same grade then," the boy continued. "I just moved here," he explained.

Clutching the library book to his chest, Spencer slowly stood. He shuddered as the water in his clothing began to cool, the soaked fabric clinging to his skin.

The boy returned, placing the last of his stuff back in the backpack. "Here," he said, holding out his hand.

Spencer handed over the book and wrapped his arms around himself, trembling with cold.

The boy zipped up the bag before shrugging out of his jacket. Spencer eyed him as he leaned forward and draped it around Spencer's shoulders. "W-What are you doing?"

"You're shivering," he said, slinging the backpack over his shoulder where it rested against his own.

"I-I can carry that," stammered Spencer. "I need to g-go home."

"I'll walk you."

"N-No, really, it's o-okay."

"Sorry, kid. You're stuck with me," he said, flashing a winning grin. "Besides, doesn't look like I'll be getting my jacket back anytime soon," he added with a chuckle.

Spencer glanced down and realized he had instinctively drawn the jacket tighter around himself. As the boy was almost a foot taller than him, the jacket hung down around Spencer's knees. He hugged the fabric closer, reveling in the residual heat leftover from the boy's body.

"What d'ya say, kid?"

Spencer gave a small smile, turning around. "My house is this way."

The boy flashed that dazzling smile again, falling in step beside Spencer. "I'm Derek, by the way," he said. "Derek Morgan."

Spencer glanced up at him. "Spencer Reid,"

Derek wrapped a loose arm around his shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Spencer."

Awwww! Wittle Spency and Der fluffiness! XD (Yeah, I know, I need professional help. *laugh*)

And no, I have not read Le Morte d'Arthur. I was going to last summer, but when I went back to the library to check it out, someone had beaten me to it. So maybe this summer.

Anyway, I might write more little stories with highschool Morgan and Reid, if an idea strikes me.

Reviews are love! And I love love! (And I love all of you, too.)

Now I have to go work on another rewrite of my creative nonfiction assignment. :/