Morgan's Point of View

When Reid walked into the Bullpen an hour later than he usually would with a goofy look on his face, I knew something was up. He tossed my car keys to me and settled into his desk, his eyes sparkling. I grinned sheepishly.

"Somebody got lucky last night," I goaded, winking at him noticeably. He looked up from where he was organising the things on his desk to stare at me. He shook his head and looked down again.

"I told you, it wasn't a date," he argued, straightening papers in front of him and refusing to look me in the eye. "You've got the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea, huh? Then what's got you looking so happy?" I prodded. He took a minute before he answered; putting his pens in a straight line next to his straightened papers and making sure they were exactly lined up.

"If you must know, I took a friend to the shooting range this morning to practice self-defence, and the session went better than I expected," he finally told me, looking up from his stuff and staring me down. "That's all." I laughed and leaned back in my chair comfortably, putting my hands behind my head and crossing my ankles. I wasn't going to take that answer at face value.

"You were teaching someone how to shoot? I thought you barely passed your practical exam last year." He knew I was just teasing him, but he flushed pink anyway, keeping his mouth shut. "So, is this friend of yours any good?"

"Good?" he asked, confused.

"At the range," I clarified, taking my hands from behind my head and folding them in my lap. "Did she surpass the skills of her teacher, or did she shoot the target in the groin too?"

"She did fine," he grumbled. "Better than I expected."

"Ah, and you're upset because she doesn't need more practice and you don't get to show her how to hold her arms anymore," I concluded. "Too bad, man. How hot was she?"

"Don't talk about her like that. She's just a friend of mine." He started fiddling with his watch, pulling it over the sleeve of his shirt and loosening the clasp.

I had to admit, whoever this girl was, she had the skinny man wrapped around her finger. I was just surprised that Reid hadn't come to me for advice before going after her, if teaching her how to shoot could be considered that. But, either way, he was being very defensive over her, that was for sure.

"I see, I see. Does this mystery girl have a name?"

"Mystery girl? What mystery girl?" Emily seemed to come out of nowhere, suddenly standing between mine and Reid's desks with her bag slung over one shoulder. I grinned at Reid's sudden look of panic.

"Reid's mystery girl who he did not borrow my car to take on a date," I told her, watching Reid squirm. Emily laughed and looked at Reid.

"You've got a girlfriend? That's great, Reid! Do we know her?"

"No," he responded quickly, his eyes looking back and forth between Emily and me. "No, you don't know her."

"Ah, but you admit she's your girlfriend, then?" I asked, grinning at Emily and winking. She was smiling still, happy to be in on the making-fun-of-Reid action. It was just in good fun, though. We both knew when it was time to stop joking around, if he got really frustrated. We weren't bullies. Well, not really.

"No! I mean, I didn't say— stop twisting my words around!" Reid squeaked, looking almost like he was going to jump up from his chair and confront us. I gave Emily a look and she shrugged, dropped her bag next to her chair and settled in to her own desk.

"Sorry, little man. Didn't mean to bother you." Emily giggled, and Reid rolled his eyes.

"You know, you guys can be real jerks sometimes," he confided in us, glaring at me defiantly. "I mean, really. She's isn't even my girlfriend and you're both giving me the fifth degree!" I just laughed, because before I could retort, JJ sauntered past and was holding a manila folder with the FBI emblem on the front.

"We've got a case. Conference room in two minutes," she announced, and whatever I was going to say to Reid died on my tongue as I collected my things and the three of us began to prepare for the briefing.

Spencer's Point of View

It was later that I found myself at home, alone, and surprisingly bored. I had gotten myself thrown off the case and stuck in a cab headed back in the direction of Quantico— luckily the case was just a few cities over. I had punched a suspect in the face twenty-four hours in; and just because he looked slightly similar to the drawing of Leah's attacker. I knew it wasn't the guy. It wasn't the UNSUB for either case. But I had flipped out in a manner that was so unlike myself that it surprised me... and now I was home, and I was bored.

I thought momentarily about calling Leah— Lord knew I wanted to see her again— but what would I say? That I just wanted to be close to her? Would I ask her out to dinner, or to a movie? Morgan was right; this sounded a whole lot like dating, and I wasn't sure I liked that. My feelings for Leah were mixed up and tangled. But I wasn't in love with her. Was I?

My phone was in my hand and Leah's number punched in when I looked down at it. I hadn't hit call, but I must have subconsciously picked it up. What did this all mean? I was obviously attracted to her, but...

But what, Spencer? That little voice inside me asked. Why not go for it?

"She's vulnerable," I vocalised, not caring that I was talking to myself. "It wouldn't be right for me to take advantage of her like that. Transference. She's a victim."

She's healing. And she can say no if she wants to. She was the one who asked you to breakfast, remember?

"But that was just friendly thanks for going to the range with her..."

What if it wasn't?

I stared at the phone in my hand, just waiting for me to press 'call.' What if I were to ask her out? Would she be disgusted with me? Or did she feel the same way?

But I didn't have to make a decision, because as I sunk onto my couch and stared intently at the phone, it began to ring in my hand. I sighed with relief at the name on the caller display and put it to my ear.

"Hey," I greeted, smiling easily. "What's going on?"