"Am I afraid of the dark? No." Reid looked around to make sure all the cameras were off. He wanted to set the record straight with the rest of the team and the crew from Dark Journey. However, it wouldn't do to allow all the girls who thought this idiosyncrasy was sensitive and adorable (not to mention how "brave" he was for admitting it on national TV) to know he had made the whole thing up. He had barely saved himself with that "inherent absence of light" excuse.
"Oh please! You made me turn on the light for you in the men's room before you would even go in it," scoffed Prentiss.
"Sorry if I thought you might want out of your asbestos dressing room for a while. Gee, see if I try to ever rescue you from cancer again."
"I was trying to get in my car to leave, and you started crying and begging. The only reason I agreed to do it was because the cameraman was looking at me like I was some sort of bitch and you'd worked your way into the passenger seat; I was afraid you'd contaminate it with your Spencer Reid urine."
"Wow, Spence, how manly."
"It's not my fault! Derek and Hotch are always turning the lights off in the bathroom and hiding so they can scare me!"
"Whatever!" Hotch inwardly laughed. It was hilarious when he did that; Reid actually peed on himself a few times, but it was definitely not conduct becoming of a BAU team leader ('And exclaiming "Whatever!" like some teenaged girl is?' he thought to himself). "Morgan, if you are actually doing this, I demand that you stop." ('Did that sound superlame? Nah, I'm Hotch; I say what I want, how I want!')
"Now it's my fault that the kid's scared of the boogeyman? What? Just because I'm black?"
"Because you're a jerk," Reid cut in. "And you're hardly black! You guys are always getting mad at me about that woman I hired to be my mom, but no one ever says anything about the white man from New Hampshire masquerading as some kid from the hood."
Gideon could see what Spencer was trying to do, and he wasn't getting away with it. "Spencer, a normal man who spends way too much time in a tanning bed isn't going to be received as well as a mixed kid from the hood when thrown into the team demographic. We needed our token black guy, and Morgan was willing to learn the part. You're story is cruel and unnecessary (A/N: I actually really like the plotline with Reid's mother, but I need reasons for everyone to hate him!)."
"Besides," said Garcia, who had finally decided to make her debut in my fic, "no one's going to believe a whitey can dance like such a fine, fine-lookin' man."
"That's right, baby girl."
"The point is, are you, or are you not, afraid of the dark, Reid?" Gideon was finally getting the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.
"I'm not. I mean…I'm a man, a doctor three times over. I have no reason to be afraid of the dark. I don't even have any light in my apartment."
"That's because you can't afford them. You spend all your money on hair products, sugar, and coffee," Morgan groaned.
"Just shut up, Morgan. It's no one's business how I spend my pay."
"Just be reminded, Reid, that hookers and diamond-encrusted goblets are hardly impressive when you can't afford electric bills."
"Garcia, have you been tracing my finances again?"
"Uh, yeah," she said, as if it was obvious. "I've been tracing your cell phone, too. You spend way too much time in the red light district, if you ask me, to be covering it up as police work. The Bureau tends to frown heavily upon agents with such vices, especially when you're running all over the country to do it."
"That's why all those hookers were all over you that time! They know you give good business!"
"Thank you, J.J. McObvious. However, if I want someone to go to dinner with and make me look like the pimp I really am, that's none of your business."
"You think you're a pimp?!"
"Yes, Hotch, yes I do. Morgan does almost the same thing, but no one says anything to him."
"Quit trying to get me in trouble for your stupidity. Besides, it's way different: those girls want to be with me for me, not money."
"Whatever. You're all just mad because I have the most fangirls."
"Too bad none of 'em are legal yet," Prentiss pointed out. "The show's fansite shows that most of your fans are between the ages of fourteen and eighteen."
"Reid, I don't know why you're so ashamed of being afraid of the dark."
"Gideon, I'm not afraid of the dark!"
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not! I thought we were past that."
"It's the whole reason we're here."
"What do I have to do to prove to you guys I'm not afraid of the dark?"
___________
Reid spent an entire week in a cave, without any sort of light, with his team members bringing a steady, and incredibly long, stream of coffee, sugar, and books. His fangirls went crazy over his sudden disappearance from the show and set up a national search party because the show was saying that his whereabouts were "classified." Obviously, he was in mortal peril. Poor Reid! He's all alone out there and his team members don't even care! He's afraid of the dark, people; he's too cute and fragile to make it out there!
It all worked out in the end, though, and Reid has stopped picking up hookers as dates. He now saves money to pay for electricity.
His fangirls' whereabouts, however, are currently unknown. They were last seen trying to find a guide to take them through the vast expanse of ice that covers the most-north part of Canada. If you see them, please try to disorient them and keep them from contact with Spencer Reid because they would probably rape the poor kid if they ever found him.
