It was Saturday. Reid was on his way to the library where he tutored college students. It wasn't quite as exciting as his job at the BAU, but he needed something fun to do over the weekends. Today, he was meeting with his favorite tutee, Nathan Harris.

"I had this dream about killing prostitutes last night," Nathan said conversationally as he sat down across from his favorite FBI agent.

"That's nice," Reid replied. "Now, if the slope of a line... wait, what?"

"I had this dream last night – well, actually, I have it a lot – where I stab this bitch ass whore in the gut."

"That's really strange," Reid replied, "Because the team just fond a bitch ass whore stabbed in the gut. Are you sure it was a dream, Nathan?"

Nathan's lower lip began to tremble. "Yes, I'm sure it was a dream because I woke up in bed with my pants full of goo."

Reid looked confused. "Well, I don't know what gooey pants have to do with this, but I might need to take you in."

A half an hour later, the whole team was seated at a table in the library.

"So, Reid," Morgan mumbled, "What's so important besides Algebra that you had to call us all to the library on a Saturday morning?"

Reid glanced at Nathan.

Nathan looked hurt. "I told you, my pants were full of goo!"

"Ah!" Morgan cried, putting a sexy hand over his eyes. "Don't shout!"

"Don't tell me you're hung over," a disgruntled Gideon admonished.

"I didn't know we'd be called in," Morgan protested, rubbing his temples gingerly.

Hotch ignored his colleagues, turning his attention to Reid and his tutee. "Reid, you seriously felt that a teenager ejaculating was something you needed to call us in about?"

"What?" Reid looked confused again. "I called you in because Nathan here was just telling me about his dream in which he killed prostitutes."

Gideon and Morgan had the grace to stop bickering and look more composed.

"You think he's our unsub?" Gideon asked.

"I think it's definitely a possibility," Reid nodded.

"How else would he know about the murders?" Prentiss added.

"Good job, Reid, let's take him in," Gideon commanded.

"Wait!" cried Reid, standing dramatically. "Where did he go?"

The rest of the team followed Reid's example and leapt dramatically to their feet.

"Oh, no!" they cried in unison, Gideon's low baritone causing every bookshelf to tremble.

"Hurry! Split up and find that sexual sadist!" Hotch yelled, and they each ran off in different directions.

Reid bent down and crawled under the table. There was Nathan, staring right at him and brandishing a knife.

"Aaah!" Reid screamed, turning to scramble back out from the table's underside.

"Shhh," Nathan whispered, grabbing onto Reid's arm and trying to hold him still. "Wanna know what I really dreamt about last night?"

"N-no! I mean, why don't you tell the whole team?!" Reid exclaimed loudly, trying to draw his colleagues' attention.

"They don't like me," Nathan pouted. "I just want to tell you."

Reid flounced around but he couldn't escape Nathan's iron grasp.

"Alright, what was your dream really about?" Reid asked, trying to buy some time.

"Unicorns," Nathan admitted. "You were a unicorn and I was riding you."

"Was I horny?" Reid asked, intrigued.

"Yes," Nathan replied as he cut his shoelace. Some little prankster had tied it to the chair leg. "We flew over the rainbow and found a pot of gold," he added. "And when I woke up, I knew I just had to tell you-"

"Reid!" Gideon's head popped under the table. "Are you okay?"

"No!" Reid cried, jumping into Gideon's arms. "But I think Nathan's innocent."

Gideon dropped Reid. "Okay, then. Let's all go back to bed. Everyone, this guy's not our man!"

The team filed out of the library, leaving just Nathan and Reid once again.

Reid cleared his throat. The two of them were still situated under the table.

"Do you want to continue your lesson…?" Reid asked awkwardly, scratching his head.

Nathan shrugged and then batted Reid's hand away, moving to scratch the agent's head for him.

"Ouch. You have long nails," Reid whined.

"Mmm, you have a long neck," Nathan responded.

They spent the rest of the hour rubbing heads under the table.