Why You Should Lock the Bathroom Door

Morgan had learned from living with two sisters to always knock on a bathroom door before entering, and always lock it behind you.

Reid, apparently, had been given no such education. Then again, his mother had probably not noticed him wandering in and out of bathrooms, either.

This wasn't a good time for an education in that subject.

The police station in Selkirk, Iowa, had one bathroom with three stalls. It was coed, so the sheriff had posted a handwritten 'Knock on Stalls, Doors Don't Lock' sign on the outside.

The first indication that something was wrong was after Reid disappeared. About three seconds later a woman shrieked and Morgan could hear things thudding on the walls of the bathroom. He held up a hand to keep the deputy from going in.

"I've got it, thanks."

He cracked open the bathroom door. A rather attractively dark woman had Reid literally backed into the corner stall, with his pants hanging down. His gun was on the floor, and he held his hands up for peace.

"Ma'am?" Morgan caught her hand before she could hit Reid with her purse again.

"That little perv-he was-for God's sake this is the ladies room! Why are you here?"

"Ma'am, this is the only restroom," Morgan explained, realizing this was JJ's media contact from the city nearby.

"What? What?"

"It's a coed restroom, ma'am. Men and women."

"Of all the uncivilized-"

"Are you finished trying to kill my partner with your handbag, ma'am?"

"The officer said that this was the ladies' room!"

"What exactly did the officer say? Did he say this was the ladies' room, or did you ask for the ladies' room and get directed here?"

"The latter."

"So then, he never actually called this the ladies' room?"

She was breathing out her nose like a bull. "No."

"Then can you either calm down and use another stall, or wait outside until you calm down and then use the restroom?"

I am negotiating bathroom rights for Reid, Morgan thought. Pathetic.

"I'll wait," she snapped, and exited.

Morgan and Reid looked at each other. "Thanks," Reid said, bright red and pulling his pants up.

Morgan started to chuckle. "Her face…"

Reid began to grin, too. "You'd think I was a booger on her shoe."

"Or her handbag."

"Lady can hit, too. I might need ice."

"Reid, is there no way to lock these things?"

"Not really. The locks were jammed. All we'd really need is something like a nail file to keep the door attached to the stall."

"Maybe we should start carrying those with us to avoid these kinds of things."

"Or leave a post-it note on the stall."

"Or leave a shoe under the stall door."

"Or one of Hotch's ties over the door."

"Kid, I don't have a death wish."

"Good point."

Reid washed his hands.

"Ready?" Morgan asked.

"She might kill me."

"Na. She thinks you're cute."

"She thinks I'm a perv, Morgan."

"Girls think all guys are pervs."

"Really?"

"Well, it's never been a barrier to a relationship."

"Morgan? Just shut up, okay? I have to go back out there after being saved from a rabid reporter."

"She looks like more of an idiot, stomping around and yelling about ladies' rooms."

"Yeah. And I still had to be saved. So shut up."

Author's Note: I saw this title in the February TV prompts and did a little happy dance, because it seemed to fit so perfect with Morgan and Reid's misadventures!