Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters on the show. I do own Dr. Lorraine Quinn. If you want to borrow her, please ask me. I don't do entertaining disclaimers – the entertainment is the fic!

Author's Note: Yes, I'm doing a whole series on Reid bonding with this young lady.

A Wicked First Date

Ch. 1 – Morgan is a Wicked Man

"All right, I'll see you all back here in thirty minutes."

Hotch had let them all go for a break and Spencer Reid had spent the first ten minutes of that pacing the empty briefing office. A rather tattered piece of paper rested in his left hand. It had been in his pocket for three days. In his right hand, he turned his cell phone over and over, not flipping it open. When she had first pressed that piece of paper into his hand, he was stunned. Of course he'd had no intention of taking her up on the dry cleaning offer. He guessed it wasn't her fault that her dog had just done what he was bred to do. But if he didn't want his sweater un-stained, why was he doing this?

For three days, the choice topic of conversation had been "When is Spencer going to call that girl?" He had been forced to endure variations of that question every time someone made eye contact with him. In three days, he had not gone back to the Espresso Hut. It wasn't that he would ever admit it, but the prospect of setting foot in there again frightened him. So why, why on earth had he kept that number with him? Logically, shouldn't he want never to see her again? That coffee break had been a certifiable disaster.

He stared at his phone again, as if he expected it to just type in the number on its own and call her for him. Hopefully, his imagination went on, this all-of-a-sudden sentient phone would be able to handle the ensuing conversation. His eyes found the wall clock. He had precisely eighteen minutes left in the break. Feeling rather like he might throw up spectacularly, he flipped his phone open, stared at the number pad, and then shut it again. He had sunk so deep into this contemplation that he didn't notice the glass door open and shut.

"Kid, what-"

"Ah!" Reid started, dropping his phone.

Morgan stared at him as though he had grown a tail – a combination of open curiosity and concern. Spencer rolled his eyes and retrieved his cellular apparatus, grinding his teeth a little. He tried too late to hide the piece of paper in his hand but Morgan's sharp eyes had caught it in an instant.

"Are you freaking serious?" demanded the older man. "You're playing the 'call her/don't call her' game? What are you, in middle school?"

"What's middle school?" Reid shot back sarcastically. "I graduated high school at-"

"Twelve, I know," Morgan cut him off. "You know, that's when the rest of us were discovering that girls don't have cooties."

Spencer narrowed his eyes and managed to avoid crumpling the piece of paper in irritation.

"I think I managed to miss the whole "cooties" thing too," he grumbled. "I hate to be short with you, but could you either leave or help me out here?"

Annoyingly enough, there stood Derek Morgan, laughing out loud. Spencer reddened about the face once more. He felt like his face would never return to a shade resembling human skin again! For lack of anything constructive to do, he returned to staring at the coffee-stained, rumpled piece of paper. Then he turned his eyes to his cell phone. Morgan continued to stare.

"Help you out?" he repeated. "Okay, you just went from middle school to teenage girl."

"You're not helping!" yelped Reid, face dangerously close to purple.

Morgan rolled his eyes, and then reached out to remove Spencer's cell phone from his hand.

"Okay, here, why don't you let me call her?" he teased, causing Spencer to yelp again and attempt to fight for his phone. Morgan held the thinner man off easily at the length of one arm. "Oh, don't get mad, I'll be nice!"

"Just give me my phone back and let me make my call in peace!" whined Spencer. "There's only fourteen minutes left in the break!"

Morgan tossed the cell phone up in the air and Spencer snatched it back, holding it protectively.

"Do you seriously need adult supervision?" Morgan deliberately provoked the younger man.

Prentiss, who had been silently watching this performance through the glass door for more than a moment, finally decided to intervene. She shoved the door open and the two men swung around to look at her. Standing there with hands on hips, she stared three kinds of death at Morgan. All of a sudden, before she even spoke, he looked as guilty as a schoolboy.

"Jesus, Derek, leave him alone, will you?" she ordered more than asked.

Spencer mouthed a silent "thank you" from over Morgan's shoulder, and then glanced up at the clock again – twelve minutes left. Well, the moment had come – it was time to be a man, flip that phone open, and ask her out. No more avoiding it. He took a deep breath, visibly squared his shoulders, and tried hard to ignore the peanut gallery. Morgan tried hard to control his laughter, broad shoulders shaking as he clamped a hand over his mouth. Shooting his surrogate brother a dirty look, the child prodigy opened his cell phone.

Even Prentiss had to summon every ounce of self-control she ever thought about having not to laugh. There stood Spencer Reid, staring at his open cell phone as if it were a ticking bomb. Slowly, mechanically, glancing compulsively at the piece of paper in his other hand, he dialed the number. But just before his thumb could hit the 'call' button, all activity ceased and he turned white. Swallowing again as if he might vomit, he looked back and forth from Morgan to Prentiss with darting eyes. His shoulders fell.

"I can't do it," he sighed. "This whole thing is ridiculous."

This time, Prentiss rolled her eyes.

"Hit that 'call' button before I hit it for you," she commanded. Spencer made a whining noise, so she continued, "Do you want the whole team to walk in here while you're making the call?"

Spencer's eyes shot wide open and, before he could think this through or stop himself or do anything rational, his thumb twitched. For a second, time seemed to stop. Then he heard the other end of the line ringing and his entire body seemed to freeze from the inside. Both Morgan and Prentiss saw the look that flashed across his face – the look that said "dear lord, what have I done?" The other end rang once, twice, three times, and then…

"Hello, this is Dr. Lorraine Quinn's cell phone," said a recording. "I'm either with a client or I'm not at my-"

Reid flinched at the loud beep that cut off the recording.

"This is Dr. Quinn, sorry about that!" panted the out-of-breath voice. "To whom am I speaking?"

Spencer's jaw worked soundlessly for a second as he felt his throat closing up uncomfortably.

"This is Dr. Lorraine Quinn, can I help you?" the voice on the other end tried again, sounding inquisitive.

An amused smile played around Prentiss's mouth and Morgan had to hold his nose to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter. Truly, they both wanted him to succeed, but the way he went about things was too funny! Spencer turned his back on both of them and hunched his shoulders over to try again.

"Uh, yes, this is Dr. Spencer Reid," he ventured uncertainly. "I don't know if you remember-"

Spencer glared daggers over his shoulder at the snort that escaped Morgan's shaking hold.

"- but we met the other day?" he finished. The 'ramble' neurons in his brain overtook his mouth, but before he could settle in for a nice long word-barrage…

"Oh hi!" came that chipper voice again. He found himself reminded of conversing with Garcia and it eased his mind a bit. His shoulders un-tensed a little bit as she continued. "Yeah, I remember! I completely meant what I said about the dry-cleaning, by the way. I promise you, Hawkeye never does things like-"

He couldn't help laughing – she apparently had a 'ramble' center in her brain too – and his laugh cut her off.

"No, no, it's not about that!" he assured her – she could hear the smile in his voice. "But, um… I did keep your number, obviously, and I got curious and I wondered if… uh…"

His throat stopped up on him again – how was he supposed to ask her out if his larynx decided to go on strike every time the subject entered his brain! Morgan had almost lost control entirely, intermittent laughs escaping behind his hand. Even Prentiss couldn't help letting a giggle or two out. Normally, Emily Prentiss did not giggle, but watching her surrogate little brother ask a girl out… Well, it was just worth a giggle. Spencer wanted, once again, to assume a liquid form and leak down the nearest floor drain.

"If… um…" he continued valiantly. The next string of words tumbled from his mouth as the contents of his stomach continued threatening to do. "Ifmaybeyou'dliketogodosomethingthis… uh… weekend?"

"Really? 'Go do something?'" echoed Morgan, finally unable to contain himself, tears of laughter just this side of streaming down his cheeks. "You didn't even have an idea! Dude!"

Prentiss smacked him hard on the shoulder – Reid glared full-size swords at the two of them.

"Um… Who's that?" the voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

If looks could kill, Spencer Reid would be the easiest unsub the BAU ever brought in.

"Oh! Nobody!" he tried to laugh, hoping it didn't sound as psychotic to her as it did to him. "It's just… uh… the television's on!"

"Uh-huh." He could tell she didn't believe him. "So anyway, yes."

"Oh God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called-" he started to ramble, but she cut him off.

"Dude, you don't have to apologize, I said yes!" she yelled into the phone, causing him to hold the apparatus a foot away from his head.

Morgan stared. Prentiss gave both of them an 'I told you so' look. Reid looked like he might have just gone into cardiac arrest. First his face dropped all hint of color, but then it reappeared with a vengeance. Prentiss noted that not many people could achieve that wide a color range on one face. He had taken on a peculiar, splotched appearance.

"You did?" he finally choked out. "I mean, hey, that's great! So… what did you have in mind?"

Prentiss stared with her mouth open. Morgan smacked one hand audibly to his forehead. Garcia giggled hysterically on the other side of the glass door, watching the proceedings and covering the mouthpiece on her own phone. What? She couldn't resist – the boy wonder asking a girl on a date was just too good not to hack into! Spencer again felt the intense desire to, how they say, drop dead.

"Um… I dunno, what did you want to do?" she volleyed back cheerfully. When she got silence so thick that she could hear it, she suppressed her own giggle. "I mean, I do have an idea. D'you like musicals?"

Spencer had no idea how to answer that, so his brain went on autopilot.

"Well, I had the opportunity to see La Nozze de Figaro at the Met a few years ago, but other than that-"

He held the phone away from his head again at the squeal she let loose into her end of the device.

"I played Susannah in college!" she all but screamed. Then her volume returned to normal and her speed of speech increased about a thousand-fold. "But no, I've actually got a couple of tickets to Wicked! There's a traveling company performing through next weekend and my tickets are for opening night this Friday evening! Would you like to go? Have you read the book? I only got through about half of it and-"

"S-sure!" spluttered Reid, before he really knew what he was agreeing to. "That sounds great!"

I think, his mind supplied belatedly – Morgan snorted loudly again and now Prentiss had her hand firmly over her mouth. Then he noticed Garcia, now practically howling with laughter, and nearly dropped the phone. He missed the first few words of what Dr. Quinn said next.

"- after that?" she asked. He had no idea what she just said, so he figured it to be polite if he just agreed. "Wow! Okay, that's great! It's opening night, so I think we're supposed to dress nice! I'll see you at five on Friday then!"

Still not sure of what he had just gotten himself into, Reid said his okays, his thank-you, and a quick 'bye. Dr. Quinn squeaked another "Awesome!" and a "See ya then!" Then the line went dead. He let out a gigantic breath that made him reconsider his maximum lung capacity. For a split second, it seemed all had become right in the world. Then the nausea returned. He had just called her girl to ask for a date. Then she had ended up doing the actual asking, and he had no idea where they were going after, but he said yes! What kind of and FBI agent was he, to get himself into messes like this!

"Kid, I have never seen anybody who attracts as much trouble as you do!" Morgan finally exclaimed, through peals of laughter. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"Actually… no," Reid deflated visibly. He stared from one amused face to the next, then the next. "Well now what do I do?"

Morgan didn't answer, or rather, couldn't answer as another bout of diaphragm-powered laughter shook his whole body. Garcia had just flat-out leaned against the wall beside the glass door, convulsing with hysteria. Spencer looked very much like a middle-school boy who didn't quite know what to do. Finally, Prentiss took pity on him and held out a hand.

"Come on, sit with me," she told him, not leaving an option for saying 'no'. "We'll give your closet a run-through after work and see if you have anything that qualifies as 'opening night' nice."

"You think she realizes how loud she is?" asked Morgan, finally getting himself under some semblance of control. "We could both hear a good half of that conversation."

Reid ground his teeth together, causing Prentiss to pinch him – she hated the sound of people grinding their teeth.

"So, do you know what to, like, do on a date?" Morgan pressed on, affecting the speech of a teenage girl and finally provoking Reid to fling a pen at him. He ducked easily. "Like, you know?"

"That's enough," Prentiss snapped. Then she looked up at the clock. "Well, break time's almost up. Reid, you and I have a date after work, and Morgan, you may want to, like, go take your foot out of your mouth, you know?"

Morgan opened his mouth to retaliate, but Hotch walked in, the look on his face announcing without words that he would brook no nonsense. They'd had their break and it was once again work time. JJ followed closely, bearing an armful of printer paper and several folders. Garcia all but hobbled in, still giggling and wiping purple eyeliner off her cheeks. Rossi, who had heard her outburst, strode in after, chortling to himself.

The team chattered a bit as they settled back into their chairs for the purpose of resuming their conference. Seeing as there were three minutes left in the break, Spencer – still nearly violet – excused himself to refill his coffee thermos. As he strode down the hall, he stared at his phone in a mix of wonder and fear. Had it somehow been the phone's fault, the disastrous call? He nearly dropped the thing again as it buzzed, almost jumping from his hand. It was a text from, predictably enough, Morgan.

"If you need help, let me know," the text read.

Reid growled and had to exercise real self-control to keep from stomping the rest of the way to the coffee machine. He took a bit more time than he normally would have, and that was saying something, in refilling his thermos. In a bit of a deviation, he loaded the thing down with cream – vanilla-flavored – and sugar. This time, he skipped the artificial sweetener and went for a few of those "sugar in the raw" packets that JJ had brought in. He emptied six of them into the thermos and stirred madly.

He screwed the lid back on the metal thermos and turned smartly on his heel. Jetting back down the hall at top speed, he felt like a car on two wheels as he flung the glass door open and hot-footed it back into the conference room. Where had all of this extra energy come from? He all of a sudden felt like his red blood cells carried helium instead of oxygen. His faded navy Converses barely touched the floor, it seemed! And was it possible that he heard the Beatles in his head?

Normally the picture of perfect attention and studiousness, notebook and pencil ready to go, he couldn't help staring out the window at the cloudy day. Wait a second, was that sunshine? On a cloudy day? He shook his head and picked up his pencil, but instead of taking notes, he poked at a crumpled corner. Hotch went on about… what were they even talking about anymore? Where had his attention span gone?

Something about a new policy from the higher-ups, Hotch continued on, pretending he didn't notice Reid's glazed eyes. But Garcia's renewed giggling soon had everyone off-track again. Morgan reached into his pocket for his phone, hiding it under the conference table. Really? Prentiss thought as she noticed – he was picking on Reid, but he had the nerve to pull that old trick?

"I… was… serious…" Morgan typed in, hoping Hotch wouldn't notice.

Reid ignored the buzzing of his own cell, but he caught Morgan's eye and got the message anyway.