Disclaimer: see chapter 1.
Author's Notes: I don't think I have any for once. D
Prompt 80: Why? (Reid and Morgan)
"Why are you here?"
Surprise turns to evasion as the question sinks in. "Well, isn't that the biggest question of all? Some would say we are here to serve the will of some omnipotent god, while others believe –"
"I don't mean "you" general, I mean "you" personal. Why are you here?" Intensity never wavers.
Fidgeting, "Well, after I got my last degree in college, I decided I wanted to do something useful with my talents, so I applied to the FB-"
"Don't be a smartass, Reid; it doesn't become you." Is he even blinking?
"In that case, I don't understand the question."
"What's not to understand? Why – are – you – here?"
"Here implying…?"
"Here at this bar."
"Oh, well that's easy. I'm here at this bar because Garcia threatened me with painful death if I did not learn how to socialize like the rest of humankind. Of course, I'm not sure why it would be considered normal to move around like a spastic lizard on a tiny floor with several other half-inebriated lizards crushed against me to music that can hardly be called such, and drink substances that will later cause severe headaches, violent illness, and potential memory loss."
"Okay, I will give you that. But from where I'm sitting, it looks to me like you are on a stool at the bar with me, instead of moving like a 'spastic lizard' out on the dance floor with Garcia, even though she again threatened you with bodily harm. So, tell me, Reid: why are you here?"
Trapped. Cornered. Fenced in. Ensnared. Tricked. Are there any more words to describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach? "Even threats can't force me into that conglomeration of sweat, sex, and idiocy?"
"I see." Seriously, were his eyes not getting the least bit dry?
A gulp of liquid fortification, a deep breath for support. "Because I'd rather be sitting here with you than out there on the dance floor with Garcia."
"What if I were out there and Garcia were sitting here with you." At least now he's smiling, if only a little bit.
"That depends." Mischief around the corners of his mouth and eyes.
"On?"
"On how good your impression of a spastic lizard is."
An outright laugh this time. "Get that scrawny ass out on the dance floor."