Author's Note

This story is brought to you by self-isolation 2020. Thanks for reading!

It all started with that damn star puzzle. It's not like it was anything out of the ordinary or even so significant, but there she was curled up on her couch once again in her warm flannel pajamas re-watching old episodes of Buffy on a Saturday night alone. A near-empty bottle of wine sat on her coffee table staring at her as she brought her wine glass up to her lips. Emily Prentiss thought better of herself than to feel like a complete loser in that moment, because lonely did not equal pathetic. But her mind took her away from the show playing on her television, and there she was thinking about it again.

She had a star puzzle when she was a child, lonely in her room after moving yet again. She had never forgot the fairytale behind the story and how it seemed so romantic. She remembered thinking that if she could just solve that puzzle, a handsome prince would see how clever she was for putting the star back together and fall in love with her. But she never did solve the puzzle before she had lost it. That's why she had been giddy when she had found a new one in the puzzle section of the book store and bought it instantly.

She had only been playing with it a few minutes when Reid had looked up from his book on the jet back from Wyoming and asked her what it was. After she finished explaining the origin of the star puzzle, he had instantly shut down her story with his damn logic. She scoffed to herself. So typical of him, she thought. And then he fit all the pieces back together again before she had even finished explaining how difficult it was to do.

She felt a rush of frustration flush inside of her again. Of course Dr. Genius had solved it and ruined her romantic fantasy of solving it herself in a matter of seconds. But that had been over a month ago and she couldn't figure out why it still bothered her.

Emily glanced up at her bookshelf in the corner of the living room where she displayed the completed star. She sighed and downed the remaining wine still in her glass. He had put the star back together for her just like the prince in the story and he didn't even give a second thought to the implications that might hold. Sure, it was frustrating, but she was also impressed by how quickly his mind works. Maybe the frustrating thing was that she was in her late-thirties sitting on her couch alone on a weekend, and her mind wouldn't stop thinking about her damn colleague.

Her phone buzzed. Her hand fumbled around the couch until she felt its cool touch tucked away under a pillow. She glanced at the name on the incoming text message. Garcia.

Garcia: Not 2 late to come out! Mocha Latte is extra hot on the dance floor & I'm 2 drinks in wishing u were here :(

Emily smiled at the thought of those two. They really did have an odd friendship that she had given up on trying to figure out. Maybe she should have gone out with them. It's been a while since she had gotten laid. That's probably why she was feeling so frustrated lately. She looked at the time on her phone. 9 P.M. The effort to get up and make herself presentable didn't really appeal to her right now. She felt her finger typing on the small keyboard.

Prentiss: Next time. Promise. Buffy & wine for me tonight.

Less than a minute later, she felt her phone buzz again in her hand.

Garcia: Boo. Plenty of hot guys who would love 2 have u batting those long lashes at them.

Prentiss: I do NOT bat my eyelashes.

Garcia: Maybe u should. I know someone who wants u to. Cute FBI bachelor ;)

Emily felt a warmth tinging her cheeks. Her eyes flicked over to her bookshelf and landed on the star puzzle without her consent. She forced her focus back to her phone.

Prentiss: I dont know who you mean.

Garcia: Hot british agent rawson. Hard 2 forget.

Emily didn't quite know how to respond to that. A few weeks ago Agent Mick Rawson had given her his number when they all gathered for a drink after closing the case. He was handsome and far too charming, but her perception of him might be tied to the fact that he had possibly saved her life that night. She had innocently flirted with him, but the thought of putting the little free time she had into trying to date someone put her off to calling him.

What was bothering her more was how they were openly flirting and having a good time and he didn't give them a second glance. Reid just stood there munching innocently on mixed nuts straight from the container talking to, well...not her.

Her phone buzzed again before she could dig deeper into her thoughts.

Garcia: A birdie told me he gave u his #

Damn, JJ. Could any of them have any secrets from each other? Sometimes it sucked working with profilers who spent far too much time with each other. She's probably right, Emily thought. It wouldn't hurt to give him a call. She should have realized that the moment she found herself thinking about Reid and that stupid star puzzle more than she was comfortable with. It was likely just some weird exposure theory anyway. She has limited contact with available men, so it's normal to think about your colleagues when there's no one else around. It's probably why Morgan and Garcia have their weird thing. The thought calmed her.

Prentiss: Not gonna happen. Be safe.

Emily slid her phone on the coffee table and stood up from the couch. She felt her knees give a faint popping and frowned, stretching her arms in the air. The rush from standing up hit her and knocked her off her balance and she swayed. She breathed out slowly. She must have drank more wine than she thought she did. Reaching down for the remote to click her TV off, she decided that a hot shower would clear her mind. She walked down the hall into her bedroom.

**A few days later-The end of 5X20**

Emily huffed a sigh of relief she didn't realize she was holding as she flopped herself into the seat with the table on the jet. That was a hell of an ugly case they got called on that interrupted her Atlantic city weekend. Then again, there was no case she worked on that wasn't ugly. The important thing was that they got the job done. So much for "sin to win." Maybe it was the universe laughing at her. One of the few weekends that she made plans to get out of her apartment and she found herself whisked away for work.

Reid slid into the seat opposite her at the table and gave her a wry smile before dropping his book on the table. It made a loud thud. She lifted her eyebrow at him. It was the size of an encyclopedia. It's not like he needed it. Based on the worn edges and cracked spine of the book, she assumed he'd read it multiple times. He was like the team's own walking, breathing encyclopedia anyway.

"Big plans for your day off?" She asked.

He tapped his finger on the book and gave a small laugh. "Nothing like Atlantic City."

The tips of Emily's ears tinted pink when he caught her eyes. She felt her lips curving upwards. His tie was loosened from around his neck. It was a nicer tie than what he normally wore and his shirt was buttoned down. And since when had he started wearing shirts that didn't look like it belonged to a grandpa?

She cleared her throat. "Well, I guess my gambling extravaganza will have to be re-scheduled."

The jet rumbled to life and within minutes they were in the air. Reid shut his book and slid it onto the seat next to him. The next moment, he was standing up only to return a few seconds later with a suspicious look on his face.

"You know," he said, wiggling his way back into his seat, "I've been known to be decent at cards myself."

"Is that so?"

Reid twirled his hands around and produced a deck of cards like a magic trick. He wiggled the deck in his fingers. "What do you say? Think you can beat me?"

She laughed, stunned by his little magic display. "You're on."

A minute later he was shuffling the cards in his hands with a pile of pretzels in the corner of the table. Emily had found a bag of peanuts in her go bag to use. Her mood had perked up considerably.

They had been playing for about twenty minutes, each winning a few hands. The cards he dealt her this round weren't too great, but she was feeling lucky. She tossed three cards into the middle of the table.

"Three cards, please," she said.

He put three cards in front of her.

"Three cards for the lady. And I'm going to take one card."

He brought his lips in his mouth and grinned in a boyish way as he reached for his card. He thinks he's so clever. She glanced down at the cards in her hand and rearranged them. She grinned to herself. Now I've got you, Dr. Reid, she thought. Luck was indeed on her side.

"Ooh, one card. A straight or a flush, Dr. Reid? What are you trying to fill in?"

She can't stop the glee in her eyes when she looks at him. She likes teasing him.

"Well, considering the odds of filling in an open-ended straight with one card are 5-to-1 against, while a one card flush draw is more like 4.5-to-1..."

He's rambling with his knowledge again like he can't help himself. She decided to try for a confused look to throw him off.

"I guess you'd say if I was smart, I'm drawing to a flush," he finished.

He glanced up at her from his cards. He's probably trying to read me, she thought. Good luck with that.

"Hmm..." He started, "I think I'm gonna go all in on this."

He pushed the rest of his pile of pretzels into the pile collecting in the middle of the table. She took a moment to read his face. The odds are in her favor. She decided to go all in, too.

"So, are you?" She asked.

"Am I drawing to a flush or am I smart?"

"Either."

"Well, I'm provably a genius."

She can't help but laugh. Even when he's bragging about his intellect, he doesn't give off any ego. It must be a thing entirely unique to Reid. She's hardly met any men who have such little ego.

"But, uh," he continued, "Actually, I was drawing to a full house. 8's over 6's."

He laid the hand out in front of her. She straightened up in her seat, ready to see the look on his face. She let out a deep sigh as dramatically as she could muster in the moment.

"Oh...I always forget you're from Vegas."

"Yup!" He squeaked out. His voice was higher than normal and he reached his arms out to collect his winnings. The look on his face was a mix of smug and excited. She felt her happiness bubbling up inside of her.

"Ooh, I'm sorry. Not so fast. I, too, have a boat." She put her cards on the table. "Jack's over 3's."

She smiled wide. Finally, victory over Reid. She tried her best not to look too smug.

"Wait, you drew three cards to a full house? That's like 100-to-1 against," he said. He looked confused. Good.

She saw Morgan walking over to them and linger behind Reid. She ran the numbers through her head.

"97-to-1," she corrected. "Looks like you're out."

She grabbed the pile of snacks and scooped them toward her side of the table. Reid was shuffling around with the cards. She could practically feel his mind reeling in confusion. He does look kind of adorable when he does that, she thought. Luckily, Morgan's voice broke her attention before her mind took her thoughts any further.

"Hey, Prentiss. 'Sin to Win.'"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Come on, now. I gotta know," Morgan pressed. "What the hell is a 'Sin to Win' weekend in Atlantic City?"

She scoffed. The people on this team were always wanting to be involved in her personal business. She might as well keep the secrets that she can to herself.

"Derek, I have a tremendous amount of respect for you, but there is some questions that if you have to ask them, it means you probably couldn't handle the answer."

She stood from her seat, satisfied with her answer. She pat his shoulder as she passed him. She definitely needed a drink. Too bad there wasn't any alcohol allowed right now.

"There is a whole other side to that woman," she heard him say.

She settled for water and made sure to grab two cups before she made her way back to her seat. Morgan had gone back to listening to music and JJ was talking to Hotch and Rossi at the other table on the jet. Reid was gathering the cards in a pile and stuffing them back in the cardboard case. She pushed a cup of water towards him.

Reid glanced down at the cup and ignored it.

"I never lose," he said.

She pushed her winnings of snacks back into the middle of the table and grabbed a pretzel and slowly slid it between her lips and flicked her tongue over the salt. She saw his eyes fall to her mouth and he frowned. What did she think she was doing? Am I trying to flirt right now? She questioned herself. It's Reid. He's your friend and colleague. Stop.

A warmth spread over her cheeks and she hastily bit into the pretzel and put it down on the table.

"What can I say, doctor? Life is full of surprises."

She took a sip of water to calm her stomach. She didn't usually feel flight-sick, but maybe she just needed a proper meal in her stomach.

He cleared his throat.

"Well, I'll try not to be a sore loser about it." He picked up the glass of water she gave him and brought it to his lips. "I didn't ask for water."

"What? You didn't think I was going to gloat too much, did you?" She flicked a peanut towards him. "Have a peanut. Water helps with the saltiness of it, as I'm sure you know."

He popped the peanut open and tossed it in his mouth.

"I think I could beat you at chess next time," he said.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you're aspiring to be particularly competitive with me." He stretched back in his seat and raised his arms above his head. His foot bumped hers accidentally under the table, but he didn't seem to notice. "I usually only play chess against myself, so some competition might be welcome."

He didn't pull his leg back over from her side of the table. She became too aware of him being in her personal space, even if it was only a leg. She gently nudged it away from her. He picked himself up in the seat, straightening his back.

"Afraid you're getting rusty?" She asked.

"Highly unlikely. Playing against oneself is arguably more challenging since you always need to think ahead of yourself. I also read a minimum of eight books a week with the current work schedule, but it's usually a far higher number. Furthermore, I play logical games for fun and study new subjects. I'm thinking about pursuing a new bachelor's."

She just stared at him with her eyebrows lost in her bangs. He must be lonelier than she was. She frowned at the thought.

"So what do you do just for fun?"

He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "I just told you."

"I mean, do you ever do anything that doesn't require mental stimulus?" He didn't answer. "You ever just hang out and watch TV or go for a walk, or just, I don't know, take a bath?" Her face flushed at the thought and she immediately began rambling again. "You know. Just relax. Play video games or sit and chat with someone about nothing?"

He lifted an eyebrow at her and her eyes flung down at her half-eaten pretzel. She heard him laugh softly to himself.

"Not much, I suppose. Sometimes I watch television or movies. Particularly science fiction or horror will capture my attention long enough. Probably since I like to compare the scientific logic and probability of the story with my own knowledge of the subject. I love Halloween, so cheesy horror movies are fun..."

She looked back up at him relieved.

He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Though I have never once in my life taken a bath and I'm not great at social interaction, so I don't usually find myself in social gatherings unless it's with someone from the team."

She laughed. "You're not the only geek, you know. I like sci-fi stuff, too."

He perked up a bit and smiled like he already knew that about her. Of course he did. Damn profilers.

"You're not so bad a social interaction, ya know?" She continued. "Not nearly as awkward as when I first met you. I suppose you'd just have to try a little."

His lips curved up and he seemed particularly interested in the cup of water that he was staring at.

"Thank you," he murmured. "But the thought of a bath still does not sound like fun."

"Oh, come on," she laughed. "You're telling me after a case where you've had to chase down an unsub and have some sort of physical activity, the thought of a hot bubble bath relaxing your muscles doesn't sound nice?"

When she saw his face flush, Emily felt satisfied.

"I think you're severely over-estimating the amount of, uh, physical labor I put into this job compared to the rest of the team."

She shrugged her shoulders and picked up a peanut to give her fingers something to do. What has gotten into her lately? Why was she suddenly grilling Reid about his bathing habits? She did not want to think about Spencer Reid in a bathtub. The thought was ridiculous and probably inappropriate. She needed to change the subject before it got uncomfortable.

"So what's with all the purple lately?" She glanced at his chest. "Or lavender, more like." But based on the look he gave her, she assumed that his choice in clothing wasn't any better of a topic.

"Well, what's with the red you're wearing?" He countered. "You normally wear more conservative colors-blacks, greys, blues, browns even. Probably to come off as more professional rather than personal preference. I assume you attached yourself to the ideology from growing up as an ambassador's daughter."

She frowned but he continued on. "It's an outdated idea, really. One's clothing has little to do with their ability to do a job well. Morgan often wears jeans and a t-shirt, yet no one would question his professional integrity. But since you've mentioned before that women are scrutinized more in a career where the percent of men outweighs the percent of women, I can only deduce that after years in the FBI, you still worry about outsiders questioning your abilities."

He seemed to finally take a breath. She didn't know if she should feel slightly offended or complimented.

"Huh." That was the best her brain could think of in response.

"I only meant to say that, uh, the red is nice. The color is usually associated with love and passion. As a means to stand out since the color is so bold."

She felt uncomfortable in her seat and awfully bare. She could feel his eyes on her. Why had she wore red? Did she want to draw attention to herself when she packed it in her go bag? She did know the association with red. That's why she normally chose a deep red shade of lipstick when she went on dates. She didn't think it was worth digging any deeper in into why she was wearing a certain color.

"It's only a color," she said with the most amount of disinterest as she could. "I didn't put too much thought into it."

He nodded his head.

"Shades of purple are my favorite colors. They have a proven calming effect on the mind. It's a nice balance considering the job that we do."

"Well, it's, um...nice, too." She felt so silly about the stutter in her voice. It is not a big deal to say that something looks nice. She's done it dozens of times. She really needs to take her own advice and have more social interaction herself. "It's cool to see you looking less like my grumpy college professor."

He didn't laugh. Emily sighed to herself and decided closing her eyes and counting down the minutes until they land was the best option for her. She let her head rest on the back of the seat and felt the exhaustion of the day wash over her.

"Is my choice in clothing really that bad? I mean, I don't really care about how I dress, but if it's really so unappealing..."

His voice was small and hinted of insecurity. That was just great. She couldn't even make a small joke without insulting him. She mentally kicked herself and leaned forward to touch the top of his hand with her fingertips.

"No, Reid," She said. She tried to make her voice as soft as possible. "It was just a stupid joke. I didn't mean to offend you."

He didn't look convinced.

"Nothing about you needs to change. It would be a shame, really. I just meant that the color is different."

He offered her a smile and she hoped that meant he took her words to heart. She felt her fingers circling the top of his closed hand on the table. She was lingering now and that was either friendly or inappropriate again. She didn't want to chance it, so she pulled her hand away and tucked it safely on her lap.

"I suppose we've never broached the topic of clothing in such depth before," he said.

She exhaled loudly through her nose and chuckled.

"If only Garcia were here. She'd be thrilled."

She tucked her head back against the seat and leaned it against the side of the plane. "Let me know before we land," she muttered. She promised herself that she would definitely accept Garcia's next invitation to go out before she drifted off to sleep.