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So He Has a Few Quirks...
Reid shut the door to his hotel room hard. Morgan would say he slammed it. Reid though of it as punctuating his frustration, not slamming it. Still, it was louder then he expected and he winced. Someone might complain about the noise.
He took off his coat and the purple scarf he wore, trying not to think about the bloody hole in their killer's latest victim. He tried not to think of the significance of the missing organ either. It would just invade his dream anyway.
He hung up his coat and scarf in the small closet. He had won the coin toss to sleep alone much to Rossi's irritation. He had accused him of using his skills as a magician to win. Of course, he'd denied it even though Rossi been right. No one wanted to share a room with him, so why not cheat.
He unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and laid it down on the bed. He buttoned it again and folded it in a way that would make a drill sergeant weep with joy. He removed the folded tee shirt from his bag and laid it on the bed. He took off his pants, folded them with the same military precision. He sat down on the bed and took off his shoes and socks. He folded the socks and left the shoes lined up precisely at the foot off his bed. Next, he removed the white cotton boxers he wore and folded them to fit into his go bag. He stacked the clothes neatly and laid them on a heavy wooden chair next to the shuttered window. He took out the new pair of blue sweat pants he'd bought a week ago to replace his old sleep pants, which had, began to wear around the edges of the legs. He put on his tee shirt and smoothed it down over his hips before sitting down at the small table in one corner of the room.
He picked up his messenger bag, unzipped it and took out a pen and a pad of lined paper. Dear Mom, he wrote at the top of the first page. A full thirty minutes passed before he finished telling his mother about their case in Alaska. He looked it over; put it in an envelope he withdrew from his bag and sealed it shut. He put it inside a book he'd been reading on their way up here. He'd put a stamp on it and mail it out in the morning, just like every morning. He stopped to wonder for just a minute how much extra time it would take to reach his mother from Alaska.
He took out his favorite nightlight from the bag and plugged it into the outlet at the other end of the room. He went to the closet and took out a shirt, a sweater, and a pair of cords all in shades of gray, black and white. The tie he chose had a red stripe, as did one of the socks he removed from his bag. He put all of his clothes on the chair he'd used while writing his letter. He hung the pants over the back of the chair; put the shirt over the pants so that it hung down straight and even. He put the folded vest, a pair of boxes, his tie and socks on the seat of the chair. He moved his shoes to stand next to the chair.
His go bag was emptying fast as he removed his toiletry bag and took it to the bathroom. He ignored the sample shampoo and lotions, taking out his own travel version of his favorites. He next placed his razor and shaving cream to the left of the sink. His toothbrush, toothpaste and a washcloth went on the right side of the countertop.
He shut out the light to the room as he left the bathroom. His Donald Duck night light glowed into being making him smile as he walked back to the table and his go bag. He pulled out his little portable DVD player and a DVD case from the bottom. He went to the bed, pulled the comforter down to a precise right angle before climbing in. He pulled the DVD out of the case and put it into the player. He sat up in the middle of the bed with two pillows behind his back and the player on his lap. It began to play his most favorite episode, "The City on the Edge of Forever," as he put in the ear buds. He watched… Matching Kirk's dialogue word for word as the episode played out. He watched the same episode every night he spent away from home. It was the only way he could get to sleep in a strange bed.
He shut the DVD player and put it aside on the night table. He tried to close his eyes, but Morgan's taunting words about not wanting to sleep with him came back in his head. All because his, going to bed ritual, had driven Morgan to distraction a few months back when they'd had to share a room.
He turned over to his back closed his eyes and sat up straight when someone knocked on his door. He threw on his robe he'd left at the foot of his bed. "Who is it?" He called through the door.
"Open up kid!"
"What do you want Morgan?"
"I'm not talking to you through the door."
Reid opened his door and scowled at his ex friend through grainy eyes. "It's after two in the morning Morgan."
"Yet some how I knew you'd be awake."
He slid past Reid into the room and took a good long look around. "Nice to see something's never change, OCD man."
"One out of every fifty adults in the United States has some form of OCD. Why are you constantly harping on me about mine?" Reid demanded as he followed Morgan back into his room.
"Yeah… but your nightly bedtime rituals ensure that one can sleep in the same room with you. Besides… You snore!"
"I do not!" Reid threw himself down on his bed.
"Yes you do… I made you listen to the tape I made at least ten times."
"May I go to sleep now?" Reid ignored the jibe, turned over and stretched.
"Yeah… I just came in here to apologize. I was out of line tonight. I know I embarrassed you."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because we almost lost a friend tonight. Garcia ran straight at a killer. She's just lucky he wasn't interested in her. I don't want to lose another friend just because you have a few bedtime quirks."
"So does this mean that the next time we don't have enough rooms, you'll bunk with me without compliant?"
"Don't push it kid!"