The music was so loud that Reid could barely hear himself think. That is, he was having as much trouble thinking as he could, given the fact that he was a genius with an IQ of 187. Yes, the music was pounding in his ears and rattling his brain, but his intellectual capabilities were still impressive enough to make Einstein look like Bullwinkle J. Moose.

He sat uncomfortably on his side of the booth, slightly squished against the wall by JJ and Garcia, who were drinking and talking animatedly about a topic that Reid couldn't quite make out. Across from him, Hotch and Rossi were sipping their drinks and having one of their man-to-man talks. Morgan was on the dance floor, obscured by a crowd of skimpily-dressed young women who had gathered around him as if the muscly agent were a large hunk of metal and the ladies were magnets.

Reid shook his head in disbelief as he watched his friend shamelessly flirting. He never got over how easy it was for Morgan to attract members of the opposite sex, while he himself couldn't keep them further away if he tried. Sure, there was Lila, but what did that ever amount to? A couple of blissful minutes in a pool and memories that were painful to think about. Then there was Austin, but she was probably a successful magician by now and all he had to remember her by was a lip smack on the back of one of his cards.

Just then, Reid heard a collective male groan from the bar. He looked up, along with the others at his table, to see Emily sauntering past his table, having just left behind the group of men that she had been entertaining. They were the kind of stereotypical males that one can usually find at a bar, armed with their dashing smiles and cheesy pick-up lines. On this particular night, however, it seemed that Emily had been their main target. It wasn't all that surprising, considering the fact that she was wearing her low-cut red blouse. Only a crazy person wouldn't have noticed how stunning she looked.

"Where are you going, Em?" Garcia called out.

"Washroom!" Prentiss replied, stumbling a little over the word and over her feet.

"Whoa, easy," JJ said to her obviously tipsy friend. "How many free drinks have you gotten tonight?"

"Four! No, five! I think…" Emily called over her shoulder. "No more than six, I'm sure of it!"

The two blondes laughed, shaking their heads in amusement. Then they caught eyes, shared a meaningful look, and turned to Reid.

"What about you, Spence?" JJ asked. "How are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm, uh… I'm fine, thanks," Reid stammered. "Thank you…for asking."

The girls shared another look. This time it was Garcia that spoke to him.

"You sure? Because no offense, but you kinda seem like a stick in the-"

"You don't want a drink or anything?" JJ tactfully interrupted.

"Ooh!" Garcia squealed. "If that's the case, allow me to recommend-"

"I'm fine, really," he insisted. "Actually, I think I need some air. I'm gonna head to the washroom."

"Come on, kid," said Rossi, joining in on the conversation. "Live a little."

Hotch didn't speak, but simply looked fixedly at Reid, a hint of amusement behind his eyes.

"I'll be right back," Reid answered, standing up.

JJ and Garcia shared one more look- this time of pity, it seemed- before making room for Reid to get by. He awkwardly shimmied past them and rushed towards the washroom. As he passed the dance floor, a voice called out to him.

"Pretty Boy! Come get in on the action!"

Reid turned around and held up his hand to Morgan in refusal. The last thing he felt comfortable doing was "getting in on the action". That wasn't his thing and Morgan knew it. Reid was sure Morgan meant well, but in reality, he was just making things worse. Reid turned back, slipped his hands in his pockets, and mulled things over in his mind as he made his way to the men's room.

Besides his mother, who barely counted anyway, his fellow agents were the only people he had in the world. They weren't just his co-workers, they were his best friends, and he loved spending time with them. This, however, was not his ideal night out. He hated being the killjoy, the only one without a drink in his hand, the only one too uncomfortable to dance and flirt with beautiful women, the one his friends teased and looked at with pity. He'd be much more in his element at home with a book or five and a Doctor Who marathon in the television. But then he'd be alone. And being alone scared him more than anything.

At this point, Reid reached the narrow hallway that led to the washrooms and began walking down it. He was lost in his thoughts, so much so that he didn't notice Emily coming towards him, absent-mindedly rummaging through her purse. They promptly bumped into each other, and the contents of the female agent's bag were dumped onto the ground.

"Emily!" Reid exclaimed. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Reid, don't worry about it," she replied in a light tone. "I didn't see you there."

"That's…Yeah, I… Let me-"

Reid knelt down and began gathering up Emily's things while she continued to fumble around in her bag. Finally, she pulled out a tube of lipstick, carelessly applied it and asked him, "What are you doing back here?"

"Washroom," he answered, standing up and placing a bunch of items that he couldn't identify back in Emily's purse.

"Oh, right," she said, stopping short and shaking her head, as if to dislodge something. "Of course. I'll just let you…"

The sequence of events that followed was quick and cheesy, as if the two of them had temporarily landed in a predictable sitcom. Basically, Reid tried stepping to the left to let Emily get by. Emily, also trying to let Reid pass, accidentally stepped in the same direction. Reid then tried stepping to the right, and sure enough, Emily did the same. Finally, she reached up, grabbed Reid's shoulders, forcefully pushed him against the wall, and squeezed past him, her body rubbing up against his as she did so. Much to Reid's bewilderment, the contact sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins and a shiver up his spine. Her touch was practically electric. It was all he could do not to let out a small gasp as she sidled past him, released his shoulders from her grip, and continued on her way, leaving him dazed against the wall.

Just before she disappeared around the corner, she hesitated for a moment and turned back towards him.

"Are you having a good time tonight?" she asked, almost sounding troubled.

"Uh, yeah," he fibbed, slightly out of breath. "Yes, I am."

"Good," she smiled.

And with that, she turned and was gone.

Reid still had his back against the wall, and his shoulders tingled from where she had put her hands on them. He frowned to himself, confused, reflecting on the implications of what had just happened. It wasn't Emily's behaviour that concerned him- he chalked that up to the "no more than six" free drinks she had received. He was more worried about how he had reacted to being touched by one of his best friends. The only other time he could recall experiencing such an intense feeling was during the Lila Archer case, and he surely didn't feel for Emily Prentiss the way he'd felt for the LA actress. Did he?

Pushing himself from the wall, he strode over to the men's room, yanked the door open and locked it behind him. He needed to breathe. He needed to think. He needed clarity. His mind was spinning with thoughts and images and he couldn't get it to calm down. He told himself he was being ridiculous. He told himself to snap out of it. He told himself that there must be a logical explanation- one that didn't mean that he was attracted to his friend and co-worker. Feeling that way about Prentiss just wasn't an option.

He walked over to the sink and braced his arms on the basin. He needed to collect himself as soon as possible, before the others started to wonder what was taking him so long. With a shaky breath, he looked up into his reflection in the mirror. He gazed deep into his own eyes and tried to assure himself that there was no way he could possibly feel anything for Emily. They were teammates. They were partners. They were friends, best friends even. But that was it. Feeling anything for her beyond that was an impossibility, no matter how great she looked in that red shirt. No matter how shiny her hair was. No matter how mesmerizing the sway of her hips was as she walked down that narrow hallway.

It was then that realization dawned on Spencer Reid.

"Oh, man," Reid groaned. "This is not good."