This story is just a fun little Reid story I thought I'd write, since Reid is my favorite character and I haven't really written anything about him yet. I hope you guys like it :)

Now I know why I dislike bars so much. The bar reeks of cigarette smoke, cheap alcohol and strong perfumes waving from every direction. There were bar stools placed everywhere and people were surrounding each area of the place, making it impossible to move. Ninety-nine percent of people there were drunk. There were drunk guys who were picking fights (I avoided them) and drunk guys who clung to the women. There were also drunk girls who socialized with their girlfriends only and drunk girls who were falling for the drunk men's mind games. Why was it such a mystery to people that I hate bars? I'm not anything like these people. But once again, like on several occasions, I got dragged into joining my teammates, namely, Morgan. I wasn't exactly fun company that night anyway, I was dragging my feet and rolling my eyes each time someone bumped into me and spilled a drink on my shirt. The guy's who done it to me were about three times my size, so I didn't say anything, but my face expression screamed the words I wanted to say.

"I'm having one drink and then I'm leaving." I cautioned to Morgan, trailing behind him to the bar. I'll admit, I was clinging to Morgan. I'm not exactly the type of guy who picks fights, and if some guy wanted to start something with me, there's a good chance Morgan would end it.

"Alright, kid, calm down," he said, gripping my shoulder with his hand. We'd only been there about ten minutes but I could tell from his scent that he had already drank enough to be tipsy. Oh great, I think, there goes my body guard. A couple more drinks and he'll be unable to stand.

Morgan scanned the menu and slapped my arm when he ordered my drink. "I'll have a beer and this guy here," he slapped my arm again. What am I, a punching bag? "Will have a scotch."

"Only one." I informed the bartender. He glared at me and nodded to Morgan.

"People at bars don't like me, Morgan," I insisted, a groan sharp in my tone. "Can't you see that?"

"That's because your not happy to be here," his words slurred slightly and his eyes were glistening. Damn, how much did he drink? I'm not sure I could drag him out of this bar in a couple of hours if I have to. He's got to be double my weight.

"Your right, I didn't even want to come," I began my rant when he yanked my drink from the bartender with a friendly smirk and slapped it in my hand.

"Down it."

I took a sip.

"I said, down it," he repeated more firmly, taking a big gulp of his beer. "You'll have more fun that way."

I eyed my drink cautiously, a look of utter disgust placed on my face. It's not that I don't like to drink, it's just...I don't like being drunk. Especially not with Morgan. God only knows what he'll get me into. But like a good friend, I chugged the drink down, a sound of cheers surrounding me. It wasn't just Morgan, it was every wasted guy in the bar, maybe even a few girls. I felt a wave of pride wash over my face and I swallowed it. It'd burn it's way down my throat, and for a second, I thought it might rise back up, but it didn't.

"There you go, kid!" Morgan shouted, a whistle following after. "Another one!" he shouted to the bartender.

This is what I was talking about! God only knows what Morgan will get me into. Didn't I say that? I did, didn't I? Of course I did, I'd remember, I do have an eidetic memory. I remember thinking that all the way here, and all while ordering the drinks. Suddenly my legs felt lighter than air and the rest of me drifted off into somewhere distant. I can't recall what got me here in the first place, I don't mean at the bar, but how I wound up chugging shots with Morgan, a crowd of whistles following us. I was winning, surprisingly. A couple times Morgan clutched his hand over his mouth thinking he might puke, but I'd only done that once. Every drunk person in the bar envied me, I could hold my liquor. Down, that is.

I wasn't exactly stable on my feet. My legs felt shaky when I made it to the bathroom, and my face felt sweaty from the heat in the bar. My head felt dizzy and sitting down was a difficult task to accomplish. But somehow, I felt alive. Incredibly alive in all sense of the word. I slumped down in the small wooden chair in the men's bathroom, collapsing my head in my hands.

"Damn." Was all I muttered under my breath. I don't think I'd ever had that much to drink in my entire life. I've never felt like this. I felt queasy and exhilarated all at the same time.

A throat cleared from behind me and I peeked through my fingers over my face. "Too much to drink?" a female voice said, tapping her heel.

I popped my head up, my brain following later on. It seriously felt like my brain had detached and now the room was spinning. I squinted my eyes to keep her still. "What are you doing in here?" I slurred, my word's sounding shakier than my feet.

"It's the women's restroom." she said dryly.

I stared at the tampon machine beside me and felt embarrassed for a second, then decided to hold onto it to keep my grip. It was either that, or fall right on the floor. Actually, that seemed like a really good idea. I squeezed my mouth shut to keep myself from asking, "Is it okay if I lay down right here for a second?"

"Do you need help?" she asked after staring me down.

I shook my head, but that made things even blurrier. "Okay, maybe a little." I admitted, rising to my feet. I was scrunched down on one side and I was dragging my feet, wondering how much more alcohol my body could handle before I just faded out into another world. She ran up behind me and wrapped her small arms around me, using her hips to move my body over to the side I wasn't slouching over to.

"My God, what are you, a first time drunk?"

I tilted my head side to side then squeezed my eyes shut, afraid that if I moved my head the slightest inch I'd vomit. "Sorta." I mumbled.

"Twenty-first?" she asked, struggle in her tone. It's not like I weigh a lot or anything, but she was much shorter than me and tinier.

"Mhm." I mumbled without thinking. Okay, so it wasn't my twenty-first birthday, but I was too dizzy to say my actual age. Mhm was all I could say, really.

"There he is!" Morgan cooed, a bunch of whistles and howls following directly after. A tray full of shot glasses made my stomach churn. Was Morgan trying to kill me? No really, for a second, I thought he really was.

"We were afraid you'd fallen in." a drunk guy laughed, clapping his hands together eagerly. Morgan and the drunk friends he'd made as a crowd all laughed. I just slumped down in the chair in front of the table.

"I think he has alcohol poisoning." the girl who had carried me over told Morgan calmly. My hand was still wrapped around her waist. Now I'm realizing how dumb that was. She could've shoved my hand away, it wasn't like I was trying to cop a feel, I was just using anything to keep me still and not toppling over.

Morgan shrugged. I wondered why that wasn't making him feel like he was on a merry go-round. Just keeping my head upright was making my nauseous.

"He's not done yet there, doll," Morgan informed. He wasn't slurring his words, either. He must be a pro, I figured. I let my eyes fall closed. "He's going to sing karaoke."

I shot up, shaking my head slightly. I felt the vomit rise up my throat but somehow I managed to keep it down. "I am not." I muttered. I don't think anyone heard me.

Morgan grabbed my arm like it was a tree branch and dragged me to the stage, everyone whistling proudly. My feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. "We've got a singer, folks!" the DJ yelled in the microphone from the dark corner. "We always get drunk singers when it's open bar night."

That's why Morgan ordered so much, the drinks were free. Shit. That means this isn't close to being over, I thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Morgan spoke into the mic with a deep voice. "Spencer Reef." Reef? Well, whatever. I guess he was managing a lot better than I was.

Morgan stepped away from the mic, music blaring from the speakers. The lights burned my eyes, forcing me to cover them with the back of my hand. Morgan stood by the microphone stand, swaying slightly to the music. I couldn't sway, I'd topple over, I was certain of it.

But like a trained puppet, I grabbed the mic and started singing. The words didn't make much sense and they sure weren't coming out in the right order, but I kept my balance and no one seemed to mind. Soon everyone rose their glasses and swayed them in the air, motivating me to continue. Morgan soon wrapped his arm around my shoulder and sang with me, a crowd of laughs and cheers was all I could hear. Soon everyone joined the stage, everyone sharing the mic and reciting lines. From what I could recall, no one was going to be making American Idol anytime soon, but it was fun for a few laughs. I don't even know if people were laughing at our singing or just because actual words came out like mumbles anyway.

After everyone in the bar had a chance at the mic, we returned to the floor and drank some more. Seriously. I guess singing makes you thirsty. After that, Morgan had stolen a cowboy hat from someone and put it on my head. I kept it there. The guy didn't seem to mind. Although he was frequently itching his scalp and it made me temporarily concerned about lice, but after one tequila shot, that evaporated with the rest of my common sense.

Morgan appeared from somewhere in the backroom, claiming he had to pee. I was going to mention that where he went wasn't the bathroom, but I didn't have to. The bartender left for a smoke and started yelling to no one in particular that someone peed on the wall and garbage can. Morgan didn't even pay enough attention, but I knew he was the culprit. I had peed in the women's bathroom, but that's better. At least I made the toilet. My aim was shaky, but it was a toilet nonetheless. The embarrassing part was that a girl, who's name I don't remember even asking for, had came in directly after I did and had to instruct me on how to aim properly. I was going to ask how she would know, but I hesitated. I don't think I wanted to.

Soon music began playing and Morgan had about, without exaggeration, seventeen women swooning over him. He managed to save a dance for each and every one of them. Soon it was just a crowd of girls grinding on him. He didn't seem to mind one bit. Somehow his table had turned into a strip club. All I had was my empty scotch glass, and I was tempted to order another when the girl who had helped me up earlier found her way back to my side.

"Looks like you've had a pretty successful twenty-first." she nudged my shoulder, and I swayed to the side a little too far, but I kept myself still.

"Huh?" I looked at her like she had grown three heads. Or I must've, because she crossed her arms and gave me a funny look back.

"Your not really twenty-one, are you?" she asked.

I shook my head, sipping my empty glass. I don't know why, I guess it was out of habit. "Nope. Twenty-eight."

"Wow," she widened her eyes. "That's a hell of a lot years later."

"I suppose." I responded, my eyes dazing off at the neon wall clock in front of me.

"Do you want to dance?" she offered. "Or, are you going to puke on me?"

I paused and pondered that question rationally. I decided to reply honestly. "There's a good chance I might, but I can try to make the bathroom if I start to," I replied, an eager smile on my face.

She laughed slightly. "What if the women's restroom is occupied?"

"Funny." I laughed, but I was seriously concerned if that were true. I couldn't seem to find the men's for the life of me. But I didn't think too much about it. She pulled me off of my stool and lead me to the only empty spot in the bar, and we started dancing. I can't tell you how many times I stepped on her foot or almost drove us both onto the floor, but her laughter everytime I did one of those two things calmed me. I was glad she wasn't totally sober, or else she would've had enough sense to steer clear of me.

I had forgotten the cowboy hat was still on my head, how long had that been there? I don't even know. She took it off of my head and put it on hers, a pleasant smile and a giggle followed after doing so. I caught a glance at Morgan, who was settling with one woman now, and somehow had a large sombrero on his head. How did he get that anyway? I couldn't stop chuckling at myself. Then, the chuckles turned into fits of laughter. Roaring laughter. And she laughed with me. Then we stumbled together until we bumped into the bar, laughing harder. My stomach begged for mercy and my sides tightened, and then we kissed.

And that's all I recall from last night." Reid told the BAU, nodding his head slightly, a smile on his face. He glanced at each of their faces one by one. They all stared in silence.

Morgan looked horrified.

"A..." he muttered, his forehead collapsed in his hands. "Sombrero?"

Reid nodded. "Yep."

He turned to Hotch, who looked like it was taking all of his dignity and willpower to keep from laughing. A smirk appeared on his face and him and Rossi burst into laughter.

He turned to JJ, who looked surprised and amused. Prentiss looked shocked, her jaw was dropped open. And Garcia looked proud, for some reason.

"Lemme get this straight, some random girl had to help you aim?" Morgan shouted right after, appalled. "Not the cowboy hat girl?"

Reid's face flushed red and shook his head in response. The men all turned to him with an unrecognizable look. They almost looked envious.

"Did she help with her hands?" Morgan asked curiously. The women rolled their eyes.

Reid strained his mind to think and then nodded nonchalantly. The men were envious. Reid didn't seem to get the big deal of it, but the guys appeared shocked, curious and jealous.

"Well, that's..." JJ coughed.

"That's the liquid courage for ya." Prentiss shrugged.

Reid had a big proud smile on his face. Though he liked being only the team member who was rational and responsible when it came to drinking, he enjoyed every bit of last night. Even if his head was throbbing and he had thrown up several times this morning, once on JJ's shoe, he still had fun. Morgan had shown him something he never expected. That it's alright to have fun every once and a while, and be a little irresponsible, and get a little crazy. It's okay to just sit back and enjoy life. He was glad to be back at work and thinking clearly, and also glad not to have died from all of the alcohol he had swallowed, but he will always remember what little he could recall of last night. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he hoped to do it again someday. And he hoped the girl he'd danced with who never returned the guy's cowboy hat would be there. And he hoped he'd be less drunk so he could ask for her name or number.

Hotch contained his laughter, rubbing his stomach. "So, what happened after?"

Reid shrugged. "I don't remember. I think I went home, but, I...yeah, I don't know."

"The girl with the cowboy hat gets pregnant." Morgan chuckled, burying his face in his hands.

Everyone laughed big roaring laughs like Reid had last night, but horror filled Reid's face. Oh, God.

Haha! Enjoy guys!