Disclaimer: see my profile
A/n My beta sent me a couple of pictures of MGG with his new haircut. Adele went nuts and this is the dubious result. It'll be at least two, maybe three chapters.
The sun-filled, Sunday morning beckoned to Reid as he passed the kitchen window. The blue sky outside that window looked like summertime instead of spring. So far, spring had been pretty mild and beautiful with all the lovely cherry blossoms everywhere. He yawned, turned away from the sunny golden light, and shuffled to the coffee maker on the kitchen counter. He didn't have time that morning to stand there dreaming at the window. He had company coming.
An hour later, he'd had his first cup of coffee, a shower and a bowl of Co-Co Puffs cereal. He washed up the dishes and put them away. He headed back to his room and made the bed. The house still seemed new to him he thought. He'd lived there for six months but the novelty had yet to wear off.
He tugged up the chocolate brown sheets and tucked them in. The matching comforter lay at the foot of the bed where he'd kicked it off in the night. He picked it up off coffee colored carpet trying not to think about the dreams that had caused him to sleep so restlessly. He added the comforter to the bed and fluffed up his pillows. It took him another half an hour to tidy the small house to his satisfaction.
His visitor would be arriving any minute so he took a minute to make a nervous trip to the bathroom. He looked around as he washed his hands at the white porcelain sink with bronze fixtures. He'd cleaned it until it sparkled the night before just in case she asked to use the bathroom. He blushed at the thought. Maybe he shouldn't have asked her over for a rematch.
He shook his head and left, leaving the door to the room shut in case she walked by but didn't need to go inside. He went back to the living room, which had black leather couches and love seat, with a matching recliner. He had a huge bookcase, taking up the far wall, filled with books of all types and genres. He also had a huge flat screen television on the north wall with a modern steel entertainment center holding a DVD player, his DVR and the sound system. It all looked just right against the steel blue paint on the walls and the matching carpet.
He picked a book off the shelf at random and sat down. Only a few minutes had passed when his bell rand and he jumped as though someone had pinched him. He dropped the copy of "Dante's inferno," - in its original Italian - he had been reading. He looked around the small living area of his house. Everything looked okay to him. Would it look okay to her? He jumped when she knocked on the door.
He hurried over to answer the door, "Hi Emily!"
"Hello…" She walked in smiling at him.
"How are you?"
She pulled off the dark blue sweater she wore over a dark red tee shirt. "It's cold! I thought spring was here. The winds blowing in another storm I think." She fluffed out her hair with her hands.
"I can turn on the h-heat if you're c-cold."
She eyed him up and down and grinned. He wore a light purple dress shirt and a pair of faded blue slacks. He had left off the sweater vest and tie though. She let her eyes go back up to notice his hair and her eyes went wide. What the hell?"
She'd been thinking he was doing a great job of turning on the heat all on his own, till she looked directly at his hair. "What did you do?" She demanded.
"Your hair," She pointed at his head.
"What?" He said again, looking utterly clueless
She pulled him over to the window facing the south side of his house where sunlight streamed in though the raised blinds. "You cut your own hair."
"Oh…" He said, as if she were making a big deal out of nothing. "I got tired of how long it was getting. I made an appointment to get it cut on Tuesday, but I decided I couldn't wait so I just took a pair of kitchen shears to it."
"Spencer Reid… Have you lost your mind?"
"Have you looked in the mirror?"
He went a little pink in the cheeks. "No, I don't like looking at myself in the mirror."
"That's evident!" Emily huffed out in disgust. "Where's your bathroom?"
"It's down the hallway." He gulped letting her drag him past his favorite black leather recliner where lay his book.
He shouldn't have let her in the house. She was supposed to be there for a rematch of their poker game and yet here she was dragging him into the bathroom because he'd chopped at his hair.
She flipped on the light in the bathroom and positioned him in front of his mirror. "Look at that mess." She gestured to his head.
"It doesn't look that bad." He squeaked.
"I know you're not blind Reid! Even you can see that this is a problem. You can't go to work looking like this." She grabbed his head, tilting it this way and that. "I can fix this." She said, almost as though she were alone.
"You can't cut hair!" He squeaked again, pulling out of her grasp and covering his head with his hands.
"How do you know?" She pulled her purse off her shoulder and set in on the white counter top.
She opened the middle compartment and took out a pair of shears. She opened and closed them, swishing them as if they were part of her hand.
"You carry scissors around with you." He gulped.
"Yes… You never know when they'll come in handy."
"But when did you learn to cut hair?"
"My mother taught me. We lived in places were you couldn't always count on a hair stylist."
He just stared at her.
"Morgan was right there's a whole other side to you."
Emily actually blushed. "Where are your chairs?" She changed the subject.
She tossed the scissors on the counter next to her purse, "I'm not cutting your hair with you standing up."
He went to the kitchen for one of the chairs around his table and hauled it back to the bathroom. She backed it up to the counter in front of the sink. "Sit!" She ordered him.
He sat without complaint. His backside had barely hit the seat when she said. "No… That won't work. Do you have a stepping stool?"
He didn't bother to ask because she had that look on her face she got when they were deep in a difficult case that had her complete concentration.
"There's one leaning up against the wall in the closet."
He showed her the closet just inside the front door. "Yeah… that will work." She said going back to the bathroom with small steeping stool equipped with three risers. She set it up and he sat down on the top riser before she could order him there.
"Yeah… That's perfect. Where's your shampoo and towels?"
He gaped at her, his forehead and cheeks going scarlet. "W-why do you want towels?"
"If I'm going to fix that mess…" She began in an impatient tone. "I have to wash your hair."
"Relax Reid… I'm not proposing a shower. That's why I needed the stool. I'll wash it in the sink. No nudity involved for either of us."
"Oh…" He'd gone from scarlet to purple.
She patted his head. "It's okay. Where's the stuff?"
"The s-shampoo is in the shower and the t-towels are in the c-cabinet over there." He wouldn't look at her as she moved around the bathroom.
"What's this?" She said, laughter tinting her voice. She held his bottle of shampoo in her hand. "You use baby shampoo."
"What's wrong with that? It's gentle and healthy."
"You sound like a commercial."
"I like it. In fact, I already washed my hair this morning."
"Too bad," She smirked down at him. "It's easier to cut hair when it's wet."
He watched her eyes as she looked down at him. The dark depths left him breathless as they always did when she looked at him. Was that why he'd lost their last poker game?
"Are you awake?" She touched his shoulder and he repressed a shudder of pleasure at the contact.
"Right," She went to the cabinet, pulled a folded towel out, and let it drop open. "You have bath sheets." She asked giving him a look.
"I like to be comfortable." He shot back. "Geez… you don't like my shampoo and now you're making fun of my bath towels. I didn't ask you fix my hair." He shook his head around indignantly.
She laughed which had him narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm just teasing you."
She threw the towel around him, letting it drape him like a blanket. She reached back into her purse and found something to secure it around his neck. He watched her move around the small room. It was a good thing he'd taken the time to clean it as well as he had that morning. She found two smaller bath towels. One of them she folded up and placed at the edge of the counter, the other, she left sitting at his left side with her scissors. "Your sink isn't set up for washing hair." She looked around then back at him. "I need a drinking glass."
"There's some in the cabinet in the kitchen." He started to get up.
"Stay there and don't move. I'll find it." She ordered.
He relaxed a little when she left the room. Here he was with a bath towel thrown over him and secured around his collar with a butterfly clip Emily just happened to have in her purse. He wondered what else she had in there. It appeared to contain all kinds of wonders.
Why don't you look inside?
He felt his face go red. He couldn't just open her purse and rummage through it like a teenage kid looking for cash in his mother's wallet. That would be wrong!
His eyes strayed back to the purse. One hand reached out from under the towel…
"I found it!" She said coming back into the room.
He snatched his hand back as though burned by a stove. Stupid! He decided to look at the white tile floor so she wouldn't see his crimson cheeks.
"Lay back," She said.
Oh God, if only she'd say that in my bedroom instead.
His face flamed hotter. Why was he thinking that? She didn't want him that way! He'd lost his mind in a moment of weakness that was all.
"I can't do this if you don't put your head back over the sink!"
He put his head back on the soft towels and looked up to see her face looking down over his. The light over her head made her face and dark hair glow like an angel as she smiled down at him. "You're blushing Spencer Reid. Don't worry… I know what I'm doing. This won't hurt a bit."