Title: Just the Truth Got Rearranged
By: toujourselle
Pairing: Minor Reid/OMC, hints of Reid/Morgan
Rating: G
Summary: Sometimes good things fall apart; but sometimes the other good things have quietly been there all along, too.
Disclaimer: Not true. I do not own Criminal Minds.
Notes: glitterglamgirl and I wanted Reid awkwardly wooing another geeky boy. This isn't quite what we had in mind but hopefully it's still good! Thanks to diglossia for a quick beta (and being more knowledgeable of Star Trek than I).

***

It's a quiet, small Virginia town with another series of murders so gruesome that none of the townsfolk believe the unsub is one of their own. This must be the work of an outsider, even the law enforcement believes. The team goes to a small sports bar, the only one in town and one that many of the victims frequented. Hotch looks serious and intimidating while asking the usual questions, while Reid stands off to the side, looking around. He can hear the door close behind the rest of the BAU and a moment later he sees Prentiss out of the corner of his eye. She leans against the wall next to him.

"See anything interesting?" she asks.

Reid squints at someone in the distance, and then shakes his head. "No. I don't think we're going to get much here."

She hums in agreement, but pays careful attention to everyone in the room, just in case. Hotch has moved to someone else and Morgan is on the phone, turned facing them. Prentiss nudges Reid, and when he looks at her, she says, "That guy over there is staring at you."

Reid follows Prentiss' gaze to a slightly older man, wearing an untucked oxford and jeans and square-framed glasses, sitting with a small group of what must be his friends. Color rises slightly in Reid's cheeks. "I don't think so," he says, and it's unclear to Prentiss whether he means a simple No, he's not, or I know what you're implying, and I'm not interested in men or I know what you're implying, and I don't think he'd be interested in me. Reid quickly continues, "We should go see how it's going for Hotch."

At that moment, Hotch waves them back over. "We're going back to the police station."

For a split second, Prentiss worries that she's crossed a line, that although she's not serious he thinks she's making fun of him, that she's back to where she was when she first joined the team, where nothing she said was right. But as they walk over to the rest of the group, when she can tell he thinks she isn't looking, Reid bows his head and glances sideways at the man.

*

The first time Reid bumps into him, he learns his name. There is no literal bumping involved, but Reid is thumbing through a book when he hears someone say "Excuse me." Reid turns the page, and then he realizes that the voice was close to him, and looks up. It's the man from the bar, and he says he remembers Reid and introduces himself. Reid recognizes the book in the other man's hand and quotes one of the passages, and it strikes up a conversation that doesn't stop until Reid looks at his watch and realizes hours have passed and he needs to go.

The second time that they end up in the same place by coincidence, he says, "We really should stop meeting like this, lest you think I'm following you. Next time shouldn't be an accident, don't you think?"

And so the third time they meet on purpose; Reid still can't bring himself to call it a date. They meet for lunch on a slow Saturday afternoon at a local sandwich shop that's convenient for both of them. Reid's pretty certain he's never met someone who can talk technical details of Star Trek with him -- "Did you know that there's only one episode in which the I.S.S. Enterprise is seen orbiting a planet from left to right?" he asks, after Reid had asked a question of his own. "'Shore Leave,' if I recall correctly," Reid replies without hesitating, before the question's even finished -- and then quote back or identify miscellaneous quotes and obscure books like Reid can.

Somehow the subject turns to their high school experiences. Reid glosses over his, mostly encouraging and listening to him. "I was a geek in high school -- still am," he adds, laughing, "but not as awkward, I hope -- and being gay was just something else to make me weird. But I guess being on the fringes eventually made it easier, too," he says, "and eventually I found my own group."

Reid nods, "I know what you mean, about it just being another thing to make you weird." He pauses, sets down his coffee. "Did you know that the gay pride flag was created in 1978 and originally had eight colors?"

"Really," he says, raising his eyebrows in a way that lets Reid know he knows this, but he's playing along. "What were the other two colors?"

"I believe they were turquoise and hot pink," says Reid.

He nods. "That's fascinating. And if this is your version of a pick-up line, it's working."

Reid feels a lot lighter than he has in a while -- not like none of the bad things in the past had happened, but better, at least -- and hides one of his smiles in his coffee mug.

*

"Um." Reid taps his pen on the paper in front of him. "Garcia, I'm really not comfortable with you staring at me like that."

"I'm not staring. I'm gazing with interest and intent, and I'll stop as soon as you answer my question. Something's different, sweetcheeks."

Reid looks out the room, hoping one of the others would come in and interrupt the interrogation. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"I'm onto you, Spencer Reid," Garcia says, just as the rest of the team enters. "Ah, my alluring American Adonis, where have you been all my life?" she says, spotting Morgan, who ruffles Reid's hair and flashes her a grin. Reid looks up at Morgan, who moves to take a seat next to Garcia, and smoothes his hair back down.

"Why are you here, Garcia?" Hotch says from the head of the table.

Garcia adjusts a large neon blue butterfly pinned behind her ear. "I have some special information on your case. Also, I really wanted to harass Reid before everyone got here. You've ruined my fun now."

The corner of Hotch's mouth twitches, but he just says, "Alright, let's get started, then. JJ?"

*

The walls of the old coffee shop are deep oranges and reds and teals and black, with a few big chairs pushed up against them and tables scattered throughout the dimly-lit rooms. Reid waits in line behind a girl with spiky streaked hair; there's an elderly man in front of her. He finally grabs their drinks and croissants, passing by a small live band in front of a wall with a large, slightly faded mural, on the way to their table.

"This is an interesting place," Reid says.

He laughs softly. "Yeah, yeah, it is. This place has been around forever, and you get all kinds of people here. We can play something like cards or Jenga while we eat. Or we could talk."

"Talking sounds good. I'd beat you at cards, anyway," Reid says matter-of-factly, spreading butter then jam evenly on his croissant. He'd probably lose at Jenga, but that didn't need to be said. "I know you just started a job as a professor at the University. What subject are you teaching?"

"Oh, I teach British Literature right now," he replies, unbuttoning and pushing up the cuffs of his shirt. Reid freezes. "I'd like to see if I could teach something more specialized as well next semester, maybe fifteenth, sixteenth-century..." He trails off. "Is something wrong?"

Reid is standing up, gathering his wallet and cell phone. "I'm -- I'm really very sorry, I really -- I have to go." Reid walks hurriedly out the door, ignoring the other man's confused look, and into the cool evening. Reid feels horrible about it the next day, and calls him to apologize, saying he remembered something urgent he had to do and promising to come by again as soon as possible. It's close enough to the truth.

*

Texas is unbearably hot and impossibly bright for not even being summer yet. Reid squints behind his sunglasses at the police station they've pulled into, where they'll be meeting the local law enforcement for all the details. The town is populous, but this area of the town reminds Reid of an old Western, and he thinks Texas probably doesn't have much user for others' rules, including those on seasons.

His phone goes off, and Reid glances down at the name displaying across the screen. He almost considers answering it, but he's working, and he still remembers how he rushed off a couple of days ago. So he lets it vibrate a few times, then presses ignore, almost tripping over a small dip in the parking lot.

"Hey, watch it," Morgan says, catching Reid before he stumbles into him. The hand gripping his shoulder is lukewarm, but the spot on his waist where the other hand had momentarily rested is burning.

"Thanks. I was just -- wasn't paying attention. Thanks." Reid slips the phone back into his pocket.

Morgan opens the door, and they follow into the police station.

*

When they get back to Virginia, Reid does a number of things. He cleans his apartment up to a bearable state. He orders Chinese take-out. He goes to bed before it gets dangerously close to sunrise.

Reid leaves early for work, and stops by his house, knowing he'll probably be awake grading papers. The visit is short, because Reid says he only has a few minutes to spare.

As Reid steps out the door to leave, he turns Reid around, pulling him into a kiss. Reid wants to mean it, wants to mean it with all his being when his fingers play with the button of his shirt. But then his hands fall to Reid's hips and a familiar voice saying "I hope it's a she" echoes in his head and Reid knows that his hands will never fill the imprint left in Texas. "I'll see you later," Reid says as he pulls away.

They both know he's lying.

*

Prentiss groans as Reid lays the winning hand down on the table.

"He wins again," Morgan says.

"Statistically, one of you is bound to win one of these days," Reid says, stacking the cards.

"Statistically, your cards are bound to be sabotaged one of these days."

Reid turns to Prentiss. "I don't think statistics work that way."

"A girl can dream," Prentiss says, getting up from the small table and finding a seat by the window of the plane. The sun's coming up, and Prentiss re-thinks her seat, moving to one next to JJ and closing her eyes.

"How'd your thing go?" Garcia says on the screen of a laptop, and Reid can see her spinning in her chair back in her office.

Ignoring the looks from Hotch and Morgan, Reid says, "Thing?"

"I said I was onto you," Garcia sing-songs.

"Thing? What thing?" Morgan says.

Reid shrugs. "It just didn't work out."

On-screen, Garcia taps her feathered pen against her chin. After a pause, she says, "I see all. Don't think I don't."

"If you both are done being vague," Morgan says, taking the cards from Reid's hands, "we're playing one last game, pretty boy, just you and me. And this one, I'm gonna win."

***