So this is just a little one-shot that popped into my head. Hope you enjoy, and please please please read and review!

I bet you $20 you're gonna turn me down.

Morgan leaned over and nudged Reid. "Go buy that girl a drink."

Reid glanced over and snorted. The woman was sitting at the bar, sipping on a rum and Coke and swinging her foot to the beat of the song. She was petite, no more than 5'2", with wide eyes lined with thick lashes and dark, choppy layers framing her heart-shaped face. Her hair just barely brushed her shoulders, which were bare because of the strapless yellow dress that she was wearing, though there was a black leather bomber jacket hanging from the back of her chair. "Right, like she would take more than thirty seconds to shoot me down."

"Thirty seconds? Come on, I'll give you at least a minute and a half."

Reid shook his head. "You wanna put money on that? I'll bet you ten bucks that she doesn't give me more a minute."

Morgan held out a hand. "You're on. If she's into you, I win. But I give you two minutes before she sends you packing."

Reid rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Be back in a minute or less." He shook Morgan's hand and headed over to the bar. He leaned over the spot next to her and ordered a beer and a rum and Coke. When they arrived, he slid it over to her. "Here. Happy National Beheading Day."

She looked up at him. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "Today is September 2nd. It's National Beheading Day." At her puzzled look, he took a step away from her. "And now I'm gonna go. Enjoy your drink."

He turned and shrugged at Morgan, who checked his watch and shook his head in dismay. He reached for his wallet, but stopped when he saw something behind Reid. There was a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Where are you going?"

Reid turned and looked down at the woman he had bought the drink for. She was at least two inches shorter than he'd thought. No more than five foot. "You-you, um, you looked scared. I figured I should leave."

She smiled. "I wasn't. Really. Although you did give up pretty easy. Did I scare you away? Should I let you go?"

"No—no. It's just, um," without realizing it, he allowed her to lead him back to the bar, "I bet my friend that you'd turn me down within a minute, and he said no, it'd take at least two."

She laughed, but then her smile grew softer. "And what if you don't get turned down?"

Reid's breathing hitched, and he coughed. "Well, technically he wins, but I think it'll still go down as a victory in my book."

Her smile grew wider. "How about you let me join you guys, you buy me another drink, and I'll give him the ten bucks?"

He struggled for an answer, and finally managed to squeak out, "That, um, that sounds okay."

She grinned and gathered up her things, then followed him over to their table. She slid into the booth and grinned at Morgan. "Hi. I'm told you just won a bet?"

Morgan nodded mutely, and she reached into her boot and pulled out a couple of bills. "Okay, well, here you go." She handed him two fives, and sipped on her drink. "So what are your names?"

Morgan motioned to Reid, who replied quickly, "Reid—Spencer—Doctor—Spencer Reid. I'm Spencer."

She grinned and held out a hand, and Reid took it, marveling at how graceful even that subtle movement was. She shook with him and took another sip of her drink. "I'm Rachel Perry. And you?" she turned to Morgan.

"Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you, Rachel."

They shook, and Rachel finished off her drink. "So what do you fellas do?"

"We work in the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," Reid replied.

She nodded. "Like in Silence of the Lambs? Oh, crap. I bet you guys get that a lot, huh?"

Morgan chuckled. "Not really, no. But it sounds a lot cooler if we say we get to deal with people like Hannibal Lecter all the time." She laughed, and Morgan asked, "What do you do?"

"It sounds a lot scarier if you say you deal with people like Hannibal Lecter all the time," Rachel shivered. "But anyways, I teach at Monroe High School across town. English and Drama, and then I coach volleyball and give piano lessons after school."

"Wow. Busy," Morgan observed, shooting Reid a look. Reid made a confused face, and Morgan shook his head.

"Well, it's a private school," Rachel shrugged. "Pretty small. I only teach five classes. Piano goes from three to five, and volleyball is five thirty to seven thirty, and I'm done by eight."

"Do you coach Varsity volleyball? Or JV?" Morgan asked.

"JV," Rachel replied. "I've only been there for two years, and the varsity coach has been there for… twelve years, I think?"

"Wow," Morgan nodded, shooting another glance Reid's way.

"Where are you from?" Reid asked, finally catching on to what Morgan's looks meant.

Rachel turned back to him. "I grew up in southern California. A little teeny city called Hesperia. It's basically just a rest stop in between LA and Vegas. No one over here has heard of it."

"Hesperia, California, population 90,173. Average ten inches of annual rainfall, best-known for its high population of Joshua Trees, which can only be found in that part of the country," Reid spouted.

Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. "Yeah. How do you know that?"

Morgan shook his head. "He knows everything."

Reid made a face. "I do not know everything. I just know a lot."

Rachel bit her lip. "That didn't answer my question. How do you know that?"

Reid shrugged. "It's a government report."

"And you… memorized it?" Rachel's frown deepened.

Morgan leaned over to her and whispered, "Be prepared to have your mind blown." He straightened and grinned at Reid. "Go on. Tell her what you can do."

Reid took a sip of his drink and said nonchalantly, "I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words a minute."

Rachel leaned back and let out a low whistle. "You know much about British Literature?"

Reid's face took on a surprised expression. "My mother was a Professor of 15th Century Literature. She read to me all the time. Do you have a particular work in mind?"

"Tristan and Isolde?" Rachel asked with a grin.

Reid managed a weak smile. "It's brilliant. Why do you ask?"

Rachel tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes. "Well, I'm talking about Tristan and Isolde next week in my Senior British Literature class, and I promised them a guest lecturer at some point during the year. Would you do the honors?"

After a few moments of stunned silence, Reid finally managed to stammer, "Y-ye-yeah. I'd love to."

A wide smile spread across Rachel's face, and she stood. "Great. That'll be perfect. I have to go, but why don't I give you my number, and you can call me to hash out the details?" She scribbled her phone number onto a napkin and handed it to him.

Reid took it, a dazed expression on his face. "I will. Thanks."

Rachel grinned. "Thank you, Doctor Spencer Reid. I'll talk to you later." She sauntered out of the bar, glancing back to flash him a quick grin, then stepped outside and disappeared as the door swung shut behind her.

Morgan reached over and punched Reid's arm. "Not bad, Pretty Boy. I gotta say, I'm impressed."

Reid shook his head with a stunned smile. "Me too."

How much does a polar bear weigh? Enough to break the ice...