Work Text:
POV: Aiden
If you hang around long enough, someone’s gonna ask Dr. Magic Man a question.
That’s just how it works.
There’s no schedule. No sign. No official moment where it starts. It’s not like he stands up and announces, “Ask me anything,” even though that would actually be kind of funny. It just... happens. Someone walks by, sees him sitting there—usually cross-legged with a half-filled notebook resting on one knee, fingers tapping a rhythm on the cover—and they think of something.
Something weird. Or small. Or big and confusing. Or honestly kind of gross.
And Spencer?
He always answers.
Not in a way that makes you feel dumb. Not like some teachers do, where they make it sound like the question was obvious and you should’ve already known. He answers like the question matters. Like he’s glad you asked. Like it gave him something to think about, even if he already knows the answer.
Aiden had seen it happen a bunch of times. And today was no different.
It started with Riley. She sat nearby, peeling the label off her water bottle and pretending she wasn’t watching Spencer while also clearly watching him. Aiden was stretched out on his back, staring up at the sky, bored out of his mind, until she said, “Why do leaves fall?”
Spencer didn’t look surprised. He just paused in whatever he was writing, capped his pen, and turned toward her.
“Because trees need to rest,” he said, tone even and calm, as if this question were perfectly expected.
Riley blinked. “Trees rest?”
He nodded. “During colder months, trees don’t get as much sunlight. They slow down their food production—photosynthesis—and conserve energy. Part of that process means letting go of their leaves. It’s like…” He paused. “A self-care routine. For plants.”
Riley’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh.”
Jay snorted softly behind his hand. Zee elbowed him.
Maya frowned thoughtfully. “But why do they change color first?”
“The green in leaves comes from chlorophyll,” Spencer explained, now gesturing absently with his pen. “It’s what lets plants absorb sunlight. But other pigments are in the leaf the whole time—carotenoids and anthocyanins. Yellows, oranges, reds. The green just covers them up. When chlorophyll breaks down in autumn, those hidden colors become visible.”
“So they were always like that?” Mya asked.
“In a way, yes,” Spencer said. “We just couldn’t see it.”
More kids started listening.
Emma wanted to know why clouds float. Spencer talked about warm air, tiny water droplets, condensation, and surface tension. Then Sasha asked why cats meow at humans but not other cats, which led Spencer into a whole thing about domestication, vocal frequency, and how cats may view humans as weird, oversized kittens.
Jay, sitting stiffly at first, asked why the moon had holes. Spencer lit up. “They’re craters,” he said, already halfway into a breakdown of meteoroids, atmospheric differences, and why the moon’s scars never fade. “Some of them are billions of years old,” he added, “because there’s no wind or rain to erase them. It just stays marked.”
That got a quiet “whoa” from Lila, who’d been lying flat on her back until then.
Sometimes Spencer added stuff no one asked for. Like, way more than what the question called for. But somehow it didn’t get annoying. It was kind of cool. Like getting bonus footage on a DVD.
Eventually, Aiden sat up. Not because he was super invested, but because this was getting interesting. Spencer didn’t act like any other grown-up Aiden knew.
Either way, Aiden figured it was time to test the limits.
“Why do farts make noise?”
A few kids burst into giggles. Maya groaned and dropped her face into her hands. Sasha mouthed, really? at Aiden, but her mouth was twitching.
But Spencer didn’t even blink.
“Because of vibration,” he said instantly.
Aiden blinked back.
“When gas exits the body, it moves through the anal sphincter,” Spencer continued, totally straight-faced. “The speed and pressure cause the tissue around it to vibrate. That creates the sound. The pitch depends on muscle tension and angle.”
Zee wheezed. Jay actually fell sideways laughing. Aiden was staring now. Not because it was funny—okay, it was funny—but mostly because Spencer was completely serious.
“There are even studies on this,” Spencer added. “One of them categorized different types of sounds and compared them to different digestive patterns. Some doctors think analyzing gas sounds could be used as a diagnostic tool, though it’s not commonly practiced yet.”
He stopped. Looked up like maybe that had been too much. Then just blinked and went back to sitting.
“So,” Aiden said slowly, “you’re saying there’s actual research on fart sounds.”
Spencer nodded. “Yes. Several papers.”
Aiden burst out laughing. Not mean laughter. More like—what the hell is this guy? Who does this?
But Spencer just looked pleased.
After that, the questions didn’t stop. If anything, they started coming faster.
“Why do we yawn when other people do?”
“Why can’t you tickle yourself?”
“Why do adults say ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’?”
Spencer answered each one. Sometimes his explanations were short. Sometimes they spiraled into tangents about mirror neurons or predictive motor feedback or the history of social behavior in mammals. But no one interrupted. No one told him to stop.
Even the kids who were pretending not to care were listening.
Spencer didn’t notice when someone asked a question as a joke. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. He just answered. Aiden realized that was part of what made it feel okay to ask anything. You didn’t have to be smart. You didn’t have to sound deep.You could ask anything and get a real explanation about static electricity and why your clothes zap you in winter.
At some point, it stopped feeling like a bunch of kids sitting in the same patch of grass and started feeling like… something else.
There was no name for it, really. It wasn’t class. Wasn’t a game. It definitely wasn’t quiet. But it had a rhythm. One kid asked a question. Spencer answered. Then someone else asked something. And he answered that, too. And the next one. And the next.
It just kept going.
No one told them to stop. No one told them they had to raise their hand. It was like Spencer’s brain had been designed for this exact thing: kids yelling random questions at him, and him catching every single one like he was built for it.
Emma asked, “Why do we have to brush our teeth if baby teeth fall out anyway?”
Spencer didn’t even hesitate. “Because they still get cavities, and if those cavities reach the root, it can damage the adult tooth underneath. Also, infected baby teeth can be painful and impact speech development.”
Jay asked, “Why don’t spiders get stuck in their own webs?”
“They avoid walking on the sticky threads. Plus, their legs are covered in oily hair-like structures that reduce adhesion.”
Sasha raised a hand and asked seriously, “Why do people have belly buttons?”
“Because that’s where your umbilical cord was attached when you were in the womb,” Spencer said. “It connected you to the placenta, which gave you oxygen and nutrients. After birth, the cord is cut, and the scar becomes your navel. All placental mammals have them. Even dolphins.”
That last part wasn’t necessary. No one had asked about dolphins. But Spencer added it anyway, like his brain had an overflow valve that couldn’t help itself.
Aiden was sitting cross-legged now, resting his elbows on his knees. Spencer’s answers were weirdly satisfying. Like peeling a scab off your curiosity and realizing there was more underneath.
Zee blurted out, “Why do you get dizzy when you spin around?”
Spencer gestured slightly with his pen. “There’s fluid in your inner ear canals that helps you stay balanced. When you spin, the fluid moves, and even after you stop, it keeps sloshing. Your brain thinks you're still turning, so you feel dizzy. It’s called the vestibular system.”
Riley raised her hand halfway. “Why do some adults say they’re fine when they’re clearly not?”
That one made the group go quiet for a second.
Spencer took a little longer to answer. He didn’t change expression, but his voice got a bit lower.
“Because sometimes it’s easier than explaining the truth. Or they don’t think anyone wants to hear the real answer. Or maybe they’re trying to protect someone else by pretending they’re okay.”
He didn’t say more, and no one pushed it.
“Okay, my turn,” Lila said. She was lying on her stomach now, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. “Why do people stop being friends even if nothing really happened?”
Aiden’s stomach clenched a little, though he wasn’t sure why.
Spencer looked over. “Because people grow. And sometimes they grow in different directions. It doesn’t always mean something bad happened. But it can still hurt when someone who used to fit doesn’t anymore.”
That got another pause. A long one.
Then, like a reset button had been hit, Sasha said, “Why does poop stink?”
A few kids burst into laughter. Spencer stayed calm.
“Because of the bacteria in your intestines. As they help break down food, they produce gases like hydrogen sulfide and methane, which have a strong odor.”
He wasn’t even flustered.
“You’re just… not fazed by anything, are you?” Aiden asked.
Spencer blinked. “Not usually.”
Aiden shook his head, amazed. “Okay, fine. Another one. Why does glitter stick to your skin forever, even after like five showers?”
Spencer immediately perked up.
“Glitter is made of tiny pieces of plastic or metal, often cut into hexagons or rectangles. Because they’re so light and flat, they build up static charge easily. That static makes them cling to surfaces—especially skin, hair, and fabric. Plus, their shape helps them wedge into pores and tiny textures. It’s not actually forever, but it can feel like it.”
“I knew it was evil,” Zee muttered.
Spencer nodded solemnly. “There’s a reason forensic scientists hate it.”
Of course he knew that. Of course he did.
Nico scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, but—why do you hiccup after drinking soda?”
Spencer turned toward him. “Soda contains carbon dioxide, which creates bubbles. Drinking it too fast can cause you to swallow air or irritate the diaphragm, which leads to hiccups. It’s a spasm of that muscle.”
“And why do hiccups sound funny?”
“The sudden closure of the vocal cords during the spasm creates the ‘hic’ sound.”
He said it so plainly that it made Aiden grin. “You know you’re basically a walking encyclopedia, right?”
Spencer didn’t answer that. But his mouth twitched slightly, like he wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.
Aiden leaned back on his hands, watching Spencer carefully. He didn’t laugh with them. He didn’t always look people in the eye when he answered. But he didn’t talk down to anyone either. Even when the question was ridiculous, he treated it like it mattered.
That was probably the weirdest part. That it worked.
And the kids kept going, like they couldn’t help themselves.
“Why does your foot fall asleep?”
“Why do people talk in their sleep?”
“Why do boys’ voices go all weird when they get older?”
“Why does crying make your nose run?”
Spencer just kept answering. And Aiden kept listening.
Not just because it was fun.
But because—somehow—it felt good knowing there was someone who’d never roll his eyes at a question, no matter how dumb it sounded.
Eventually, someone did ask him why he always answered their questions.
Spencer looked up, eyes flicking over the group like he was checking to make sure everyone was still listening.
“When I was your age,” he said, “I had a lot of questions. But not many people answered them.”
He said it flat. Not in a sad way. Just like a fact.
“And I don’t always know when people are joking,” he added. “But I like learning. And I like when people are curious. So if someone asks me something—even if it’s a little ridiculous—I want them to know I’m listening. That it counts.”
No one really said anything after that. But the group shifted in again, soft and quiet. Someone tossed a small leaf at Nico. Riley rested her chin on her knees. Sasha leaned on Lila’s shoulder.
Aiden laid back down, arms crossed behind his head.
He didn’t have a new question. Not yet.
But he knew one would come.
And when it did, Spencer would answer it.
Spencer knows so much it’s kinda freaky but also cool.
I think he likes questions more than most people like snacks.
I wanna ask something weirder next time.— Aiden
