A/N

I thought I'd try writing drabbles with prompts but without songs. It's not really my usual board of motivation, but everything's worth trying when you feel like you're in a slump, right?

Besides, it did take flight about halfway, so it turned out to be a fun pastime for me if nothing else. :P

Clean for now (there is no explicit cursing here!), but I'm not promising it won't tiptoe on the line to mature at some point. Consider yourself warned.

33 %

"Did you know that 33 % of American adults aren't getting a sufficient amount of sleep?" Reid informed the sleep-deprived team, with possibly a bit less consideration than the topic demanded.

"I know I sure don't," Rossi muttered.

"The correct number is actually 35 %," Blake said and stifled a yawn behind her hand.

Reid, so caught off guard to have someone correcting him for the first time in years, made a shocked little noise in the back of his throat. It sounded like 'nik'.

Morgan raised his head.

"So that's what it sounds like when a genius's star falls. Thank you, Blake, I've wondered about that for years."

"Are you sure?" Reid asked Blake, furrowing his brow. "I've heard it's 33%."

"I'm not questioning your eidetic memory, Reid," Blake sighed. "It's a common number in reports, but it's incorrect."

"How would you know?"

Reid had gotten as little sleep as the rest of them on this case, and now he sounded whiny. Even knowing he did couldn't make him stop. Luckily Blake had gone past the irritable stage of sleep deprivation to the laid-back 'everything goes' stage, and didn't snap at him. Instead she took out her cell phone and pushed it across the table towards him.

"Call the contact 'Barbara Jones' and ask her," she said. Reid's eyes bulged out.

"The Barbara Jones? The pioneer in sleep medicine?"

Blake nodded and yawned again.

"She went to med school with my husband. I see her every Thanksgiving. I think his parents made secret plans to have James marry her instead of me, but…" she shrugged and smiled. "Turned out she preferred his sister's company."

Reid was less excited than he would have been if Blake would have revealed that she knew Stephen Hawking personally, but not by much.

"And she says it's 35 %?"

"She says it's 35 %," Blake confirmed.

"Then why do you let me go around saying 33 %?" Reid said in a voice sounding so disgusted it made them all laugh.

"Because since joining the BAU my one goal in life is to one day find something wrong in your fact-spouting," Blake said. "As satisfying as it was, now I'm under the pressure of having to find another goal in life."

"How about getting 8 hours sleep a night?" Rossi muttered. "In case you don't notice, that's the goal I'm trying to reach."

"Good luck with that, you'd need a career change to manage that," Hotch said.

"So speaks the man who hasn't slept since 1982," Rossi tossed back.

"As I said, you'd need a career change to manage 8 hours sleep per night," Hotch said, completely unfazed.

"Technically, it's daytime now," Reid said, looking out the window of the plane at the brightening skies, carrying the blush of early morning.

"Nope," Morgan replied. "I don't care what time it is, it's not morning until I have slept."

"Amen and shut up," Rossi added.

A loud 'snorrrkkkkk' could be heard from JJ's seat next to the window. Silence followed, then an almost equally loud exhale.

"I don't know about you, but personally I resent that she alone gets to represent the other 65 % of the American population," Blake said, shaking her head. "Screw this, I'm taking an Ambien."

"That should be a lot of fun to witness," Reid mused. "Remember when we shared a room and you took Ambien? I have to admit, I don't think I've ever heard a more entertaining bedtime story than your recounting of the spots in the ceiling and their day at the country fair."

Blake's hand, hovering over her go-bag, sank back onto her lap.

"Right. I'm never taking those in company again."

"Fine, but would you mind telling the story again, at least?" Reid asked and leaned back. "As I remember it, it was amusing and yet highly soporific."

"Soporific means sleep-inducing," Blake said before anyone else could ask. "No, I won't, and don't you dare use that eidetic memory against me."

Reid got that obstinate 'teen-challenging-his-mom' look in his eyes. Blake didn't even consult her heart on the matter; she crushed it mercilessly.

"33 %," she said, really dragging the words out. Reid glared at her.

"If it wasn't for doctor Barbara Jones's impeccable reputation in the field, you wouldn't get away with mocking me."

"Shut up," Rossi groaned.

"Suddenly, rectifying a factual error is referred to as 'mocking', what is the world coming to?" Blake said, rolling her eyes.

"I'll tell you what it's…" Reid began.

"I'd like to hear the story about the spots in the ceiling and their country fair," Rossi interrupted. "Either that, or the even lovelier sound of silence."

"Got it. Sorry," Blake said, raising both hands slightly in a gesture to show she capitulated, but under the table, she gave Reid a kick. He kicked her right back and mouthed two, or to be specific, three words, very well-articulated in their complete silence;

"How pre-school."

Blake bared her teeth in an evil grin and soundlessly mouthed a few words back.

"Thirty-three per cent."

Reid's eyes darkened.

"Fu-"

Blake raised her eyebrows, as if daring him to complete the sentence.

"-uh...-ine, you win."