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On The Wrong Side of That Iron Door
"Well, none, I suppose," Reid mumbled, his nose twitching slightly. "But, he," Reid said, jabbing a finger through the iron bars at Morgan accusingly, "told me I was ready to fly solo! Be my own pilot...Wingman no more..." he babbled.
"I never mentioned flying your plane with a ho," Morgan said defensively.
"Oh, but she wasn't a, as you so aptly put it, ho, Derek," Hotch explained slowly. "She was an undercover officer for Vice. Reid here, or as our Director liked to refer to him, the most successful story the FBI ever produced...he proposition a cop! TWICE!" Hotch said, finishing his statement on an uncharacteristic shout.
"The music was loud," Reid groaned. "I thought she just didn't hear my first suggestion."
Bursting into laughter, Morgan took a step nearer the cell. "At least tell me she was hot, Genius."
"Shut up," Reid growled, his cheeks growing hot under the fluorescent lights above.
"Reid, the report indicates you tried to...request Officer Javera's attentions three times," Hotch stated, taking a deep breath. "Why, in the name of God, after being shot down twice, would you try a third time?"
"Because, he," Reid choked out as he nodded toward a still grinning Morgan, "told me that the first two denials are an automatic reflex in a club environment. The is try, try and try again. If she shot down my request a third time, she really meant it," he explained to Hotch meekly.
"You actually told him that?" Hotch asked tersely, turning an angry stare toward Morgan.
Morgan shrugged. "Hey, Hotch, you've been outta the game a long time, man. Them's the rules now."
"You told me I was ready," Reid argued belligerently. "The sky was my limit, remember?"
"How was I supposed to know you'd crash and burn on the first test run?" Morgan returned, looking harassed as he felt both men turn their collective gaze on him. "I'm not the one that got picked up by the po po, Hotch."
Pressing his lips together, Hotch forced himself to count to ten. "Not for lack of your trying, Derek," Hotch finally bit out. Shifting his eyes back to Reid, he ordered, "Explain the resisting arrest."
"I...uhmmm...well, that's where it gets tricky. When Officer Javera indicating that she was going to arrest me by slamming me against the wall, I attempted to produce my identification. I mistakenly believed if I could just show her my badge and allow her to see that I was actually a Federal Agent, she might realize that my previous attempts to engage her interest were perfectly innocent."
"And how'd she react to that?" Morgan chuckled, undaunted by Hotch's soft growl of impatience.
"Well, the knee she used to dislodge my external genitals was a fairly efficient way of containing me," Reid retorted, glaring heatedly at Derek.
"So, you never even pulled your badge?" Derek asked, covering his laughter with a cough.
"No!" Reid exclaimed. "Before I realized it, she had me sprawled on the ground, had her knee in my back, and was shackling me in handcuffs!"
"Now, what did I tell you about keeping your badge handy?" Morgan admonished, rolling his eyes as he shook his head.
"If I'd reached for anything again, I firmly believe she would have shot me!" Reid said frantically, pushing his hair off his face. "She had that bloodthirsty look in her eyes...the one JJ had right before she gave birth! Remember?" he asked Hotch eagerly. "It was clearly the one that said, 'Make a move and die'!"
"Well, hell, Pretty Boy, she'd already taken aim at your 'nads, and those are the parts that make life worth living anyway," Morgan winced, dropping a hand to cover his own genitals in silent commiseration.
"You are not helping," Hotch ground out, his grim face promising future retribution to the other man.
A quiet cough behind the group of men caught the attention of all three men.
"Oh my God," Reid shrieked, taking a reflexive step backward as he pointed at the curvaceous woman standing behind Hotch and Morgan. "It's her!" he yelled, walking backward until he hit the wall as he clapped both hands over his groin.
Smiling sympathetically at Reid, Officer Javera took a step forward, her stilettos clicking against the concrete floor. "Hello, Dr. Reid," she said softly. "Doing okay?"
"I think that's a rather unfortunate question, don't you, Officer?" Hotch asked dryly.
"I suppose it is." Officer Javera grimaced. "But I come bearing good news. Your story checked out, Dr. Reid," she called into the cell.
"The word "story" suggests that I was telling you a fabrication," Reid replied, cocking his head. "I assure you, everything I told you and your colleagues was the genuine truth."
"Yes, well, we realize that now," she nodded, fishing her keys from the pocket of her leather skirt.
"Oh, God," Reid yelped, "She's coming in here, Hotch! Morgan, do something!" Reid yelled.
"No, Doctor, you're being released. I've formally dropped all charges," she said, offering the cowering man an encouraging smile. "You're free to go."
"Go?" Reid echoed.
"With no formal record of this event?" Hotch inquired professionally as the young Latino woman slid open the metal door.
"Absolutely no record," Officer Javera agreed, her eyes soft as she watched Reid reluctantly approach the open doorway. "I'm very sorry, Dr. Reid, for the misunderstanding."
"See," Morgan grinned, clapping Reid on his bony back as he reached the threshold, "All's well that ends well."
"You wouldn't have said that if you'd been the one in the cell," Reid muttered, smiling stiffly at the buxom officer as he passed, still suspicious.
Guiding the men toward the door, Hotch and Reid exchanged a look as they heard Morgan smoothly ask, "So, chica, what time does your shift end?"
Opening the door for Reid, Hotch sighed as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Look at it this way. Maybe she'll crush his testicles next."
And as Reid walked out the door, he smiled.
A guy could hope.