a/n: Written for the Fanfiction Challenge Round 4 – PYOP. I'm going on the idea that even a Genius will have his flaws/blind spots!

Pairing: Reid/Prentiss (decided I wanted to branch out again...we'll see how it goes!)
Situation: Character A & Character B + a flat tyre.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

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Death-trap Motor

Prentiss was still struggling to believe that Reid had a car like this for it wasn't just any car; it was a beat up old banger that looked like it was well past its scrappage date. The man who knew every single fact you could possibly know about everything and anything - cars and safety included - was driving around in what she would call a moving death trap. She also couldn't believe that she had actually gotten in this hunk of junk voluntarily although it wasn't like she had had much choice; her car was in for its service and everyone else had taken off earlier than her but Reid.

So now, here she was, sitting in the passenger seat grumbling at every little bump the car hit on the road as it jolted her in her seat, the seat belt digging into her neck. At least she knew it worked if this infernal thing got them into an accident, she thought to herself, looking on the upside.

"Reid!" She yelled out suddenly as he whirled them around a corner, the engine making a none-too-healthy noise to accompany her screech as she was jolted to the side once again.

"What?" He asked while chancing a glance at her from his seat as his slender hands held on to the steering wheel in the "ideal" ten to two position, just like he had been taught.

"'What?'" She parroted, "are you kidding me?" She asked, incredulous. "How can you drive this hunk of junk? Especially knowing all those facts that I know you know about car upkeep, safety and accidents!"

"There's nothing wrong with my car." He harrumphed, keeping his eyes fixed to the road.

"Oh, I beg to differ. Do the rest of them know this is what you drive?" She challenged.

"It's a classic." He defended, ignoring her question.

"A classic? Ha! It may well be but it'd be better off as scrap metal! Can you not hear that noise the engine's making?"

"That means its running, Emily." He stated. He must be in denial; it was the only explanation that she could come up with!

"Reid, that is not normal for a car to make that noise! It's not safe. I'm telling you as a friend, you need a new car."

"I quite like this one, thanks." He stated as his back straightened slightly at her words; he had learnt to drive in this car and he didn't intend to get a new one unless he absolutely had to. Had she hit a nerve of some sort? She wondered.

Emily decided to keep quiet, not wanting to annoy the man who was driving her home, even if it was in this death trap; scratch that, especially because it was in this death trap!

After about five minutes of silence except the spluttering noise of the engine she couldn't take it any longer:
"How did this thing pass its M.O.T.?" She asked, sure that it could not be safe to drive.

"With flying colours." He stated with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Honestly?" She asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why would I lie about that?" He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I don't know Reid, why do people li-" She was interrupted as the car seemed to go over some debris that was on the road and the distinctive sound of escaping air as the car jolted to the side: they had a flat.

Reid was grumbling madly, his face and ears turning red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger as he pulled over on the side of the road. Emily began rolling up her sleeves when he just sat there glaring at the steering wheel as if it was its fault they now had a flat tyre.

"Right, so is the spare in the boot? I'll just get it and-"

"Idon'thaveaspare." He said quickly, his words running into one another so much that she almost didn't catch what he said. After a few moments of silence, she turned to him:
"You don't have a spare." She repeated, almost as a statement; her voice level.

He shook his head.

"Why the hell don't you have a spare?" She asked, her voice raising an octave. They were still at least twenty minutes from her place and he didn't have a spare tyre. How could a genius be so dumb as to not carry a spare? This was one of the ways some killers had found their victims and her esteemed colleague didn't have a spare tyre. She supposed that it was somewhat of a comfort to know that even he had his flaws, parts in his life where his genius did not reach, although that didn't help them right now.

"I've never needed one and I took it out to make sure the car had less weight in the back, it's acceleration's not what it used to be." He mumbled, somewhat embarrassed. He had never thought he'd be in this situation with his trusty car, never mind in this situation with none other than Emily Prentiss in the passenger seat.

"It's acceleration's not what it used to be?" She questioned somewhat shrilly; "The whole car's not what it used to be! It cannot be safe!"

He muttered something incoherent as she climbed out of the car saying that she would call Morgan to come and pick them both up and bring a spare tyre.

"In fact, maybe I'll just get him to call tow truck." She mused aloud, thinking it would be safer for all of them if Reid's deadly contraption was never on the roads again.

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So it may be out of character; let me know what you think either way :)