"Hey man, want to grab a drink after work?"
"I don't think so Morgan; you know that bars and clubs aren't really my thing."
"Please, pretty, pretty please," Morgan begged, pouting his bottom lip.
Reid rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Morgan smiled and returned to his office until quitting time.
As they stood in line outside the club, Reid noted an inordinate amount of men. "Morgan, what is this place?"
"Mystic. See, the name is hanging there above the door?" And it was . . . in rainbow letters.
"Okay, but that doesn't really answer my question . . ."
"It's a gay bar kid," he replied as the line progressed. "I thought it might be more your speed."
Reid's eyes grew wide and he quickly exited the line, rapidly walking down the block to the nearest metro station, ignoring the catcalls he was receiving. Morgan grunted in frustration as he exited the line and sprinted to catch up to his friend. "Reid, man, wait up!" He kept walking, but it was futile. Morgan caught up to him in no time. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry; I really thought . . ."
Reid abruptly turned around to face him and Morgan was a little surprised to see the tears in his eyes. "Why did you bring me here Morgan?"
"I told you man, I thought you'd be more comfortable . . . I thought you were . . ."
"Why do you even know about this place Morgan? Do you come here often?"
"You realize you just fed me one of the most clichéd pick-up lines of all time?"
"That's not an answer."
Morgan scratched the back of his head, shifting uncomfortably. "I've, uh, I've been here a few times."
"Why?" the conversation was bringing Reid actual, physical pain, but he had to ask his questions.
"Why do you think man? Do you really need me to spell it out for you?"
". . ."
"Okay, I guess you do. I've been here before when I was in the mood to pick-up a guy."
The tears were now freely sliding down Reid's cheeks. "For how long?" He couldn't even vocalize the next question eloquently.
"My whole life, I guess . . . I mean, I prefer women, obviously, but . . ." he trailed off. "I'm sorry, but are you really not . . . I mean, you just give me this vibe, and I'm usually right . . ."
"I am."
Morgan placed his hands on either side of Reid's face, using his broad thumbs to wipe away the tears. "Then what's the problem pretty boy? I don't understand."
The problem is that it's hard enough to watch you pick-up women, let alone men! He didn't say that though; he simply shook his head. "There's no problem. I should be going; you go back to the club though; there's no reason for you to go home alone tonight." Before he could even turn around to continue his journey Morgan's hand was on his bicep.
"What are you talking about Reid?"
"I'll . . . I'll just be in the way of your, um, game . . . and I, uh, I don't really feel like being the third wheel to anything . . . and I don't want to inconvenience you once you've met somebody . . . and if I leave now I can still catch the metro and I won't have to pay for a taxi . . ."
"You're my best friend, not an inconvenience! Reid, I drove you here, I'll drive you home."
"And where's the data to support that conclusion?"
Morgan winced. He had abandoned and stranded his best friend for the company of a lady on more than one occasion. "Well there isn't any really, but I'm telling you now that tonight will be different."
"No, Morgan, it's okay. I . . . I really just want to go home . . . but you stay . . . you'll have fun, you know you will . . ." He gently extracted his arm from Morgan's grasp, turning away from him and continuing down the street.
"I thought you wanted me," Morgan whispered, confused and far too quietly for Reid to hear.