Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
"Men kick frienship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces." – Anne Morrow Lindbergh
o o o o
11 April, 2010
"Every, single time, man," Morgan shook his head ruefully as he, Reid and Hotch walked out of the strip club.
"Not every time," Reid protested, his face as red as the tie around his neck. He didn't look up from the ground.
"Every, single time," the older agent argued. "Face it, kid, you are a walking, talking prostitute magnet. You could sell your talents to men who want to find a hooker but don't know how."
"I am not!" Reid's face turned a shade brighter. "Hotch…"
The young genius' attempt to find an ally backfired. "You do tend to, well… they seem to find you."
"This doesn't happen off the clock," Reid groused pitifully, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders.
"It does too!" Morgan barked out a laugh like a dog. "In Las Vegas, you were sitting at the slot machine and she just sat next to you. You're lucky Rossi and I showed up or who knows what sort of mess you'da found yourself in."
"She wasn't a prostitute."
"Yes, she was! And you gave her two grand!"
Hotch grinned widely, wishing he had been there to see it in person, though the story became exaggerated every time Morgan retold it. "Sometimes these talents come in handy though," Hotch nodded his head back towards the bar as they climbed into the SUV.
"Just don't –"
"Tell Callie," Hotch and Morgan finished the sentence for him.
Morgan grinned deviously. "I'd have to arrest her for murder."
A/N:
This is a flash-fiction one-shot (flash-fiction is 250 words or less; I started counted after the date) for my friend who won it by naming the right CM episode with the picture I'd posted over on my Facebook. She wanted a funny scene between Reid, Hotch and Morgan. I hope you liked it, hun!
Thanks for reading and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!
Love, Thalia
