Derek rolled over in his bed, trying to find respite from the damn sunlight pushing through the window. It seemed intent on destroying his eyes. But... he shouldn't be able to roll around. He distinctly remembered falling asleep with someone else in the bed... tangled together with him, warm, even breath on his arm.....
The door squeaked, and Derek sat bolt upright.
There, in the doorway to his room, was Spencer Reid.
Wearing only a towel.
With a wig, a halter top, and a pair of jeans under his arm.
The pair of them froze, eyes locked on one another. Derek tried to remember what had happened last night.
Club. Lights flashing, music throbbing, people dancing. Making his way through the crowd, dancing with one gorgeous girl after another. One girl in the center of the room, dancing alone, catching everyone's eye. She looked up from her dancing daze, spotted him. Moved to him, extended a hand, which he took.
Beautiful. Short, shining red hair. Pale skin, perfectly clear. Honey-colored eyes surrounded by shimmering dark makeup, making them bigger than they seemed. Lush, light pink lips...
He looked at the wig in Reid's hand. Short, red, shining.
Black halter top covering perfect curves, black jeans concealing mile-long legs. Dancing with him, moves to rival all of his, playful, sexy, fun. In time with the music, they took over the floor, him grinning every time the joy of moving made her laugh, her cocky smile challenging him. Dancing faster, stepping together, feeling the eyes on them.
He took a closer look at the man in the doorway, seeing some dark smudges around his eyes. He'd bet it was mascara.
Outside the club, lips on his, hands on his arms, girly giggles as he kissed her neck. A whisper in his ear: "You should take me home with you." He grinned in response, took her hand and pulled her to the motorcycle, passed her the helmet. They climbed on, he felt her legs behind his, warm, soft.
Making out against the door to his place as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys, finding them, opening the door and stumbling into the bedroom...
Pulling up the black shirt inch by inch, smooth pale skin in the dim light, black lace, and... some sort of padding inside?
A quick detour to the button of the jeans, a peek underneath, suspicions confirmed: the most beautiful girl in the place was, in fact, not a girl. And he didn't really care; why not quench his curiosity with someone nameless, someone he could send away if it was too much?
And quench his curiosity he had, falling to the mattress powerfully exhausted, entwined with the girl from the club, watching her as she fell asleep, waiting until she was deeply unconscious to whisper: "thank you."
Derek found his voice. "Hey, pretty boy."
He watched Reid gulp. "Um, hello, Morgan. How are you?"
Derek almost smiled when he saw his friend mentally slap himself. "Pretty good, actually. You wanna tell me how you ended up in my shower?"
"Um, well, it's a rather fascinating story, actually. What happened was... that.... there was..... and.... Dammit, Morgan, I know you know."
"You're right, I do. I just wanna know why you were dressed like a girl in the first place." He patted the spot on the bed next to him.
Reid walked heavily towards him, collapsed on the indicated spot. "It started a long time ago. There was this kid, back home, who dared me to pretend to be a girl and walk through the Bellagio lobby. So I did, and I went tho the casino too- I was quite adept at making fake IDs- and I got hit on more than most of the dealers. I made a very convincing woman, people liked me, they wanted me. And, just as all basic psychology classes tell us, no one can resist being wanted. For the first time, everyone liked me. So after that, I just kept doing it. Last night, I had no idea you'd be there. But when you were, and you were so focused on me, I figured what the hell, why not? Because if you took me home and were repulsed by me being a guy, I'd have had my shot and you wouldn't have even known it was me. I wouldn't have to be embarrassed." He paused. "I think that's the most I've spoken at once without any statistics since I was in middle school."
Morgan mulled over what he'd been told in his mind. It made sense, for the most part (he couldn't imagine Reid having taken the dare). "You were right, Reid. You had your shot, and you won."
Reid snorted. "Yeah, because months of awkwardness with the closest person I have to a friend is really winning. You're going to let me get my stuff together, you won't kick me out, but I'll leave, we'll both pretend it never happened and life will suck." He got off the bed, turned around and put on the jeans. "As per usual."
That was a really, really bleak future. Outside of work, Morgan didn't really have friends either. People looked down on him because of his race, or his "womanizing ways" as one neighbor spat at him while he escorted his conquest to a cab one morning. Plus, he really liked Reid. He was strange, he was pretty, and damn, could he dance. So he really had no choice.
The kid didn't turn around. He was putting on the wig and grabbing his purse. Morgan grabbed his wrist. "Look, this doesn't have to be like this. Let's go get breakfast."
Reid didn't turn around.
"And if that goes well, next week we can get dinner. Maybe see a movie."
The genius smile, turned slowly around. "Then can I borrow some clothes? These jeans are really tight."