A/N: Um… enjoy…?
Of Spencer and Spirits
It's not that Morgan's never seen Reid do anything strange before. No, Pretty-Boy had a habit of doing decidedly odd things that really only someone of equal IQ could possibly understand. But this… this had to take the cake.
The BAU didn't actually have a dress code, although it was implied (rather heavily, mind) that employees should look professional. The FBI did have its reputation to maintain, after all. Of course, Morgan was now 100 percent positive that they were going to start enforcing one really, really soon.
It all started when Reid walked in wearing leather.
Not just a jacket even (which would have been weird enough), but full-out leather pants, tank-top, and what appeared to be belts buckled around biceps, neck, and two or three around his waist. The ensemble actually looked rather… appealing. But not Reid. Definitely not Reid.
But even that paled in comparison to what he'd done with his hair. It hadn't been cut, no, not at all. Instead it was tossed in long, messy spikes and a multitude of gold, black, and red.
"What the hell?" Morgan felt fully justified in his inability to form a proper question.
Reid fiddled with a gold pyramid hanging off his neck and Morgan had to wonder how he'd missed it. Honestly, something that… tacky… should probably have been the first thing he noticed.
His exclamation sufficiently caught Emily's attention and she looked up from her desk. "Holy shi-"
"Hey guys, Hotch wants us to – whoa…" JJ, having just exited her office, stared. She seemed to forget what she had been trying to say as she caught sight of her baby's godfather.
Awkward silence.
"JJ what are you…" Hotch's mildly irritated question trailed off into nothing. After a full minute, he decided not to ask. "Round table room," he ordered simply. Then he paused, shook his head, and wandered in the general direction of his office with an utterly bemused look on his face.
Rather than look mortified, which would have normally been the case, Reid just raised an eyebrow and wandered to the round table room. Vague amusement glittered in crimson eyes.
Wait. Crimson…?
The team trooped inside cautiously, each attempting, with various rates of success, not to stare. Rossi, who had been waiting for them, spat out his coffee. "I wasn't serious about the boy-band thing, you know," he choked out.
Reid shrugged and sat in his customary place, somehow making both movements seem graceful. Regal, almost.
Garcia flounced inside with her usual enthusiasm, catching sight of Reid and grinning. She, at least, seemed entirely unperturbed.
"Reid, my junior G man, why must you do this when I don't have my camera?" She sighed heavily, but brightened an instant later. "But at least I know what you wanted those addresses for. Never would have guessed. And you will be posing for me later."
Meanwhile Reid watched the chaos from the back of his mind, both horrified and amused. But mostly horrified.
Six days, five confused co-workers, three shadow games, two apprehended criminals, and one thoroughly pleased spirit later had Reid wondering when his life had gotten so hectic.
Even so, he didn't regret solving the Puzzle.
Still…
/Atem?/
/Yes, Spencer?/ the spirit asked, humor coloring his voice. Well, at least someone found this funny.
/I'm never letting you take over during work hours ever again./
He could feel Atem's responding, and completely unrepentant, grin of satisfaction.