Author's Note: Just a little something I've had in my mind for a while. Because Reid has a way of doing this to me.

Emily Prentiss was sitting on her couch, watching TV. It had been a long day; first came the apprehending of their UnSub, after he had already killed his fifth victim. Next came the four hour plane ride on the jet with five other bummed and solemn agents. Then there was the two hour cab ride in stand-still traffic because her car wouldn't start in the cold.

Now all she wanted to do was sit here, on the couch, watching this mindless cartoon, sipping her hot chocolate.

Unfortunately, this evening of de-stressing was cut short by a knock on her door.

Groaning, Emily got up from the couch, formulating how to best tear the trespasser a new one, to answer the door.

"Hold on," she said, trying not to sound too grouchy. "Hold on, I'm coming."

She grabbed the knob, and twisted it, flinging the door open. She was surprised when she saw the person on the other side.

Spencer Reid stood in the doorway, a goofy smile on his face, arms wrapped around his middle.

"Reid," said Emily, taken aback, "wha…what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I noticed you looked a little, uh, bummed on the plane," said Reid. "I came to see how you were doing."

"Oh, I-I'm fine," said Emily, flustered.

"Emily, I'm a profiler, you can't fool me," said Reid. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Oh, yeah," said Emily, realizing that he was still outside on the steps. She moved aside and Reid came in. Emily shut the door and led him to her living room. "Have a seat," she said, indicating the couch and chair.

"Thank you," he said, taking a seat on the couch.

"Would you like something to drink?" Emily offered. "Water? Coffee? Hot chocolate?"

"Uh, hot chocolate, if you don't mind," Reid replied.

Emily hurried to the kitchen to make him a mug, wondering all the while. Why is he here? It's like, ten o'clock; isn't it past his bedtime or something?

She came back and handed Reid his mug, which he took and sipped happily. Emily sat back down in her seat and curled her legs to her body, her own mug in her hands.

"You said you were fine?" asked Reid. Emily nodded. "Emily, I'm a profiler; you should know that won't fool me. Now, tell me what's wrong?"

Emily sighed; he was right. "I don't know. Just those women, dead before they could actually start their lives. I mean, Ellie Klein was only a few weeks away from her wedding, and Kelly Shephard was going to start trying for a baby on her own. Just hits a little close to home, ya know?"

Reid gave her an understanding smile. Emily couldn't help but admire his features.

I never noticed how nice his smile is. Or how straight he teeth are. Wait, is that a dimple? And those brown eyes, they are so deep. Woah, when did that cleft chin get there?

"Emily…?"

Emily realized that she had been zoning out. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. It didn't really work.

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked, blushing lightly.

"I said 'I know what you mean'," answered Reid.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was on my way home, and it just hit me. I'm thirty years old now, and I've never really had a girlfriend. No one to start a family with. Because of my job, I'm not guaranteed to live past the next day, and I'm not getting any younger."

Emily's eyes widened. Is this seriously Reid? He's always been the baby, and now he's worried about his biological clock? Okay, when the hell did the universe flip?

"And I had this urge to come over here, so I did," Reid finished embarrassedly. He grinned awkwardly and Emily felt her stomach do backflips.

Really? Come on, it's Reid for God's sake!

"And now I have this feeling, and I think maybe I should act on it…What do you think?"

Emily had just opened her mouth when Reid's face suddenly came a lot closer. She felt smooth lips brush over hers, then a second pass with a little more force. He drew away after a few brief seconds.

Emily just stared at him, her jaw dropping. She couldn't help it.

What the hell? What…?What the…? What the HELL? Did that just happen? What just happened?

Reid was looking at her, his face completely red. Emily would have laughed if she wasn't so shocked.

"I-I'm sorry," Reid mumbled, moving to get up. In a second, Emily had snatched his hand.

"No, stay," she said. She had no idea why she had done it, something just told her to.

Reid turned back to her, and she recaptured his lips. They felt like silk and tasted like chocolate. Emily smiled at the taste, and Reid took the opportunity to tentatively slip his tongue into her mouth. His hands came up to frame her face as hers landed on his back, clutching at his cardigan.

Soon enough, clothes were shed and discarded throughout the house. Emily and Reid had ended up in her bedroom, and were closing the gap to the bed. Emily still had on her bra and underwear, Reid his boxer briefs. They slipped under the covers between kisses.

"So, what you were saying earlier," said Emily, coming up for air. "About not getting any younger…Would you like to try for a…a baby?"

"The chances of getting pregnant the first time you try are around twenty percent," said Reid suddenly.

"Are those good odds?" asked Emily, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ten to twenty-five percent of all pregnancies will end in spontaneous abortion, otherwise known as miscarriage." said Reid.

"What?"

"A miscarriage is classified as the loss of pregnancy under twenty weeks."

"So I guess we should use a condom instead?" asked Emily, reaching for her nightstand. Please don't be expired.

"The average breakage rate for condoms is about two percent. They are roughly ninety-eight percent effective at preventing pregnancy and stopping the spread of STDs. Only about three percent of first-year condom users actually know how to put on a condom correctly."

"Wha…?"

"After one year, on average two to four women out of one hundred will be come pregnant while using a condom. While using condoms, the rate of STD infection is about one percent."

"Reid, what are you talking about?"

"After the age of thirty-five, a woman's chance of having a child with Down Syndrome is one in four-hundred. After forty, the chances are one in one-hundred. The rate of miscarriage is about twenty percent for woman between the ages of thirty-five and thirty-nine."

"Reid, what--?" Emily began, but then the bed gave a lurch and she was jolted. There was that moment of horror when she felt like she would fall, but then everything evened out.

Taking a deep, relieved breath, Emily opened her eyes. She was staring at the TV. Confused, she looked around, trying to get he bearings. Then she realized that she was still in the living room, still alone.

She sat up on the couch and grabbed her hot chocolate, which had been set on the coffee table. She closed her eyes, trying to remember.

Reid, door, feeling, clock, clothes, lack of clothes, bed…

Dammit, Reid, thought Emily. You really know how to ruin a girl's fantasy.