Stepping into the Unknown
Chapter 4: Distraction

Author's Note: This takes place after Daily Morning Routine. Since this is part of my first Criminal Minds story, I don't think I am going to go into cases in detail. This will mainly be focus on what Dr. Reid's life outside of work might be like.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle the barista, though.

He sits in the back of the vehicle with J.J. as Morgan drives Garcia back to the hospital, the death of the UnSub was unfortunate turn of event, but everyone made it out safely and at the end of the day that all one can really focus on. He's looking past the beautiful blonde next to him and out the window, not really paying much attention to what is being discussed.

"So what do you think Spence?"

"Sorry, what?" He turns his focus back to his teammates, frowning a little as he tries to figure out what was the question referring to.

"Wow, you really were miles away, man. J.J. and I are going to get something to eat after bringing this one back to the hospital, do you wanna join us?" Morgan adds, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm pretty tired, I think I'll just head home. Did you know that both the Three Mile Island and Chernobyl meltdowns, as well as the Exxon Valdez oil spill and the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster have all been attributed to the poor judgment of sleep deprived workers." Reid feels awful about lying to them, but he is not ready to admit to anyone the one thing he truly feels like doing when he gets back into the city.

For the rest of the ride, he makes sure to stay concentrated on the conversations. Keeping something to yourself is definitely one of the main problems when the majority of your time is spent with profilers.

"Thanks for the ride. See you guys tomorrow."

The car barely has time to stop before he gets out, not even giving enough time for his two colleagues to reply. As soon as he's out of view from the vehicle, his cell phone is out of his pocket and he's shakily dialing. As it rings he can't help but wonder how he's gotten so, how would you say that, distracted by her; until recently he had acknowledged to himself that she is quite nice and rather funny and, according to some, she could be considered aesthetically pleasing, but not to the point of feeling like his heart was trying to escape his chest when he thinks about her... Not that it was how he currently felt, of course!

"Hello?"

"Hi, Michelle, it's Spencer." He swallows hard and tries to calm his nerves before adding. "I was wondering if there would be some way for me to make up to you for calling in the middle of the night. Coffee maybe or, I don't know, if, you know, you haven't had dinner yet, we could go somewhere... together?"

It's probably only takes her a few seconds before answering but to Reid it feels like an eternity. He's not the type to put himself out there, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, if she refuses will they still be friends? Will he have to find a new place to get his morning coffee? What did he just do...

"I'd love go to dinner somewhere." From her tone of voice, he can tell she's smiling at the other end and he can't help smiling too, actually it requires a bit of self control to not do a little victory jump. "I don't know what kind of food you like, but we could met at Miles' Dinner, if you're in the neighborhood, in say half an hour?"

"That sounds great. I'll see you there!"

It takes him less than five minutes to get to the restaurant, he sits in a booth fidgeting nervously, his legs shaking under the table. He's wouldn't consider himself vain but in that moment, he wonders if maybe he shouldn't have gone home to change first, if he should remove the gray vest he has on and just keep the shirt and tie... He goes to the bathroom twice to check his hair and make sure he doesn't have anything stuck in his teeth. He unrolls and rerolls his sleeves before unrolling them again. Finally he decides to get out one of four books he keeps around in his messenger bag for light reading. Despite his best efforts, he can't concentrate, his head snapping up every time a new patron comes in and his reading speed diminishes to a mere 5,000 words per minutes.

The door opens again, and this time it is her, he stands up so fast that his knee hits the table. He walks up to her and she smiles as she spots him. They stand there, just smiling at each other for moment, until they realize they're blocking the door. She giggles nervously as they move out of the way and head for the table.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"Thank you for not being angry that I misused your phone number by calling you at 1 O'clock in the morning."

She waves it off and tells him not to worry about it before asking how his friend is doing and if they caught the person who shot her.

"We did; it turns out that guy was an Angel of Death with a Hero Homicide Complex who was working as a Deputy Sherriff, even though he told Garcia that he was a city attorney, which is an obvious sign of narcissism. Unfortunately, Garcia had flagged his fills in the Bureau's system, because she wanted to make sure that they got solved, for the families of the victims from her support group and... I'm rambling on, am I not?"

She laughs, nodding her head. "Just a little. It's fine, it's always nice to see someone whose passionate about what they do."

The waiter comes over to take their orders; he gets the fish and chips dinner special, she chooses cinnamon French toasts, which amuses him.

"What can I say, I can't resist a main course that is pretty much just a big dessert. What were you reading?" She nods toward the book he had left on the table.

"It's an encyclopedia of medical anomalies and oddities written in 1896 by Dr. George M. Gould. It's truly fascinating, but probably not the type of thing I should start rambling on about over dinner."

"So, kinda like the type of things you'd see at the Mütter Museum?" She asks before taking a sip of her Ginger Ale. He is genuinely surprised at the question, the young woman sitting in front of him doesn't look like someone who would even know what the Mütter Museum is and much less what it contains.

"You've been to the Mütter Museum? I don't want to sound rude, but you really don't seem like the type of person who'd be interested in that sort of stuff."

"I haven't made it there yet, but I'd love to. As for not looking like the type, I guess it's the same way you didn't strike me as a F.B.I. Agent when you first started coming to the café. You might just need to get to know me more to see what 'type' I am."

He nods in approval as their food arrives. He watches her body language as they keep talking and, unless he is just seeing what he wants to see, she is giving off some of the tell-tale signs of flirting and attraction; she laughs a little too loud at one of his very poor attempts at humor (which he really needs not to try ever again) she keeps eye contact for longer than necessary and she plays with her hair despite its shortness.

They keep talking all through dinner about everything and nothing; she asks about his PhD, and he explains that it's PhDs actually and reveals his 'genius status' which he hadn't really wanted to bring up, fearing she would look at him differently if she knew, but on the contrary she seems genuinely impressed. He learns that her parents separated when she was 14 and that she hates the term 'broken home'. They both have a sweet tooth and tend to prefer snack food to real one. She loves the cold and dislikes it when the weather goes over 85. He tells her a little about growing up in Las Vegas, and she admits having never thought about the fact that some people actually live there. She inquires why he wears his watch over his shirt and he rambles on for a good ten minutes about hyper sensitivity and its possible correlation to someone being gifted.

When the waiter comes with the check, he makes sure to pay, despite the fact that she tells him he doesn't need to. As they walk out, he opens the door for her. They walk side by side, heading toward her apartment just a few blocks away, neither of them talks but the silence doesn't feel awkward, it mostly feels like two people simply enjoying each other's presence. They stop in front of a small, four apartments building. She's standing close to him; she smells sweet and faintly soapy. She looks up at him, adjusting her glasses, her deep brown eyes looking straight into him. He's pretty certain she's waiting for him to do something, but he can't, for the life of him, figure out what it is he's supposed to do. He feels like electricity is going through his body as her fingers gently capture his wrist, her thumb brushing lightly against the fine skin just below his cuff.

"I had a great time tonight."

"So did I."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning for your coffee?"

"Absolutely."

She lets go of his wrist but, somehow, he can still feel her touch. She climbs up the few steps to her porch and turns back to look at him.

"Goodnight Spencer."

"Goodnight Michelle."

She unlocks the door, give him one last look and walks in. He stands there for a moment as the door closes behind her. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way home replaying the evening in his mind.