The Essentials of Sociology

Chapter One: Happy Fuckin' New Year

A/N: This is my first Criminal Minds fic! I am so excited to have written it, because I have such an affinity for the pairing. My girlfriend got me into the series about a month ago, and I refrained from writing a story until I just couldn't help it anymore. I will be updating weekly.

BTW, it's set at the end of this season (I'm trying to make it non-spoiler) and the perspective is all Reid.

Blue

Reid nervously ran his hand through his short hair, his heart beating faster than it had in ages. He licked wet his dry lips and patted his sweaty hands on his corduroy pants to hide his anxiety, but under further inspection of over fifteen seconds it was painfully obvious something was wrong. The young doctor had his lips pursed, hands folded, and was actually trying for once in his life not to think. He had a half empty water bottle in his hands, several multi-colored lei about his neck, and a party hat strapped to the top of his rumpled haired head. Don't even get him started on the flashing red and blue lights that were sure to give him an epileptic seizure if not angina. Reid hated the loudness of the people, the strong smell of liquor, and the imminence of bad decisions from most of the patrons in the bar.

It was the most stressful time of the year for him: New Year's Eve. The BAU team decided to celebrate with drinks at a local bar in Quantico like they have done for the past four years. By now, his fellow team members were so predictable it was sad. Garcia was always drunk first. Morgan followed shortly after, but unlike Garcia he usually needed Spencer's help into a cab by the end of the night. Rossi tended to pretend he wasn't drinking at all and slipped himself vodka shots into the free water at the table. JJ, the only moderate group member, allowed herself one appletini every New Year. Hotch, on the other hand, never took a sip of anything. Prentiss tried every year to trick him into a drink, thusly why he never did. Reid, in name, just sulked and read. All night. In a corner. He was less than content, but he always attended because Garcia threatened to show the rest of the team his High School graduation picture if he didn't make an appearance. While the team is utterly indifferent, if not impressed, that he had graduated High School at the age of 12, the last thing he wants them to see is a pre-teen picture of him in a cap and gown. The way his glasses and braces looked in the pinched shot was uncool even for him.

Looking up from his copy of The Essentials of Sociology (8th edition), Reid glanced at the watch on his wrist that had always looked too big on him. He never made move to get another. It was about eleven twenty two. In fourteen minutes, he knows he's going to see a very tall, very drunk, Morgan flirting with a desperate looking woman in skanky clothing. In sixteen, Garcia's going to ask him to dance. He will accept for one song and slip away as soon as she forgets he's there just like the rest of the team. Just like Morgan.

Reid glanced at the suave agent from across the bar, who had a little glass of tequila, three girls leaning into him and his badge out. Awesome. He had upped his game this year and was looking at a holiday orgy. Reid scoffed, having had this conversation with himself before. He wasn't "jealous". He was unsettled by Morgan's clear display of slow morals while under the influence. Every time Spencer was stuck in a club with him, he would talk to Reid for the better part of five minutes before he notices some girl staring at him. Then all of a sudden, it is good bye best friend and hello wanton mistress of the night. Okay… so, maybe wanton mistress of the night was a little too strong, but his point was made. He kept getting jilted for girls at bars, clubs, taverns, meeting places and the like. Hell, once he left Reid alone when they were walking back to the hotel from a case in the worst part of West Philadelphia! Morgan spotted a girl walking alone, patted the gun on Reid's hip and whispered into his ear, "Five pounds on the trigger, if you need it." Then he left. Just walked away.

Pursing his lips, Reid stared back at his book and tried reading the pages before his sixteen minutes were up. God, Morgan is such an ass, Reid thought, flirting with those girls like he even cares about anything other than the size of their breasts. And it's so obvious that he just wants sex. I mean, really? Does he have to tout his goddamn muscles and chiseled jaw line every single time he goes out? It's gross! What's so appealing about big breasts anyway? They just hang there, existing. Sure they serve a purpose when a baby is brought into the world and a woman lactates, but as of now, all they are is a giant, obvious erogenous zone that—

"Hey, Reid!" Garcia stumbled with Kevin on her arm, "Let's dance! Come on, you can't burn a textbook by staring at it! There's fun to be had!"

Reid glanced up and sighed, shaking himself out of his reverie, "Fine. One dance. Sorry, Kevin."

Kevin nodded, nursing his beer and tugging me off of my seat so that he could take Reid's place, "It's all good, Dr. Reid. Just keep it PG rated out there."

Reid let himself be pulled onto the dance floor, leaving his large textbook in the hands of Kevin, while still managing a proper glare at Morgan. That son of a bitch, Reid thought to himself. Suddenly, Garcia's arms were around his shoulders and she was swaying her blonde head to the beat of an infectious song. Reid shuffled awkwardly and decided to take his mind off of Morgan by analyzing the song that they were dancing to. Huh, he hypothesized, of course starships were meant to fly. What would be their other purpose? He swayed a bit more as the female rapper Garcia called "Nicki" began changing her voice into a rougher, less coordinated tone that matched his barely coordinated steps. Even though the song was inconsistent and Ms. Nicki swore often, he decided to be okay with that because Garcia was having a good time. No need to put a damper on her night because he was unhappy. Then again, it's physically impossible to put a damper on Garcia at all. She was the one he could always count on for a smile. Well, her and Morgan, but Morgan was preoccupied at the moment, as usual.

"Jump in my Hooptie-Hooptie-Hoop! I own that! And I ain't paying my rent this month! I owe that!" Garcia sang out of key to him with her arm outstretched, "But fuck who you want, and fuck who you like! That's our life, there's no end in sight!"

Reid laughed at her drunken enthusiasm (which was shockingly more enthusiastic than her usual high level… of enthusiasm) and let her twirl around in his arms. It's hard to be upset around Garcia. She's just so light hearted and happy. Kevin is one lucky fellow to have her, and Reid was happy for them. It also doesn't hurt that she calls the young doctor "Boy-Wonder" when she's feeling feisty. The song ended too quickly and she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, and whisper, "Happy New Year, doc! Celebrate the fruits of the season and get yourself some New Year's ass this time, okay?"

"As if I could," he mumbled under his breath, and replied louder, "Thanks for the dance, Garcia."

By then, she had wandered off. Scratching the back of his neck, he waded through the crowd of New Year's drunkards to sulk back into his sociology textbook. How he loved being in control of his own environment and how he hated being in an overcrowded Quantico tavern. Retrieving his book from Kevin, he took a seat away from the bar and settled a tiny chair into the back of the room. Reid tucked in his legs and propped the book up onto his raised knees and began where he left off: the wonderful world of secularization.

Things got louder as the night went on. Reid checked his watch periodically at 11:34, 11:39, and 11:43. Why can't it just be 2013 already? He doesn't have time for all of this nonsense. He checked his watch again 11:44. Fuck. Reid tried to separate himself from the bustling crowd which was more rowdy and hectic than usual (God bless the people who run this establishment). Where was Reid again… oh, right. Secularization. He began to read from the top of the chapter again, cursing his quick eye. He scanned the lines and filled his head up with the definitions and examples—and more importantly the statistics—behind each situation and addressed them as so while he read. He flipped page after page and words blurred through his mind as he copied down the information in his eidetic memory. He guesses one never knows when Church and State might collide. Oh, right. Gay marriage. Abortion. Immigration. It already has. Spencer glanced at his watch. 11:52. This is one awesome way to kill time, Reid smiled to himself, I get to learn more about sociology and my friends and coworkers go about their day none the wiser. Soon, he'll be out of this iniquitous cove and into his pajamas with an episode of the X Files on Hulu and his right hand waiting for him when David Duchovny starts talking all deep and husky while figuring out a mystery. Nothing turns him on like Sci-fi turns him on... Well, wait! It's not because Mulder's a dude, honest. It's because he's brave and intense and kicks alien ass and Little Reid has a mind of his own, okay? Stop judging.

He looked at his watch again a few moments later. 11:57. Perfect. He'd just wasted five minutes having an inner battle about whether or not jerking off to David's abs makes him gay. God, you know who has nice abs, Reid asked himself, Morgan. No! No! He's not going to think about this right now! He could care less how well defined his senior's chest is. It doesn't faze him at all when Morgan gives him that mysterious stare. And, as if it even matters that the older agent wears tight shirts that show off the structure of his torso to the point where it should be illegal? So what? So fucking what? He doesn't care.

It's not like Morgan even thinks this way about Reid. What's to look at? Sunken eyes, a stick figure's body and two left feet. Wow, that's sexy alright. He ran his hand through his hair self-consciously not caring if Morgan would evaporate into thin air and cease to exist. He's not going to suddenly pay him any attention anyway, so why should it matter if he admits to looking a little longer than he should, and shying away from everyone's touch but his. The looks will never be reciprocated, so it's not worth the energy Reid wastes in giving a damn. It's not like Morgan is going to just fall out of the sky, land in his lap, and sweep him off of his feet. Dr. Spencer Reid is going to wake up tomorrow the same way he did in the year soon to pass. Barely sane, boring as fuck, questionably gay, and alone. Happy New Year, you pretty son of a bitch. Enjoy your good looks and high self-esteem while you have them. They will soon fade. All that will be left is—

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" the crowd began to cheer. Awesome. Another year of his love life, wasted.

"Seven! Six!" they continued. Fuck, he really wants some peace and quiet.

"Five! Four!" they carried on as a sharp weight crushed his lap and Morgan looked up at him with heavily lidded, drunken eyes with his legs trapping Reid on either side, "Aw, shit. This isn't the bathroom."

"Three!" they shouted.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, "Reid?"

"Two!"

Reid replied, "The one and only."

"One! Happy New Year!" the crowd erupted in a burst of energy so loud and palpable, he almost missed the pressure of lips on his as Morgan brought their faces together in a kiss meant to be chaste. Reid stared into Morgan's closed eyes and leaned forward to sink into the feeling, once he knew what was going on, as he likely won't get this chance again. His eyelids slid closed and he felt Morgan hum happily at his cooperation and brought his hands to Reid's face, feeling the stubble along the cheeks as Morgan suddenly ripped their mouths apart to vomit into the small plastic tree beside them.

Reid watched as Morgan emptied his system of the worst of tonight's alcohol consumption, feeling a strange pang of guilt in his gut. He hates watching people throw up, because that makes him queasy as well. He especially hates watching Morgan throw up, because, well, no matter how hot you are it's a sad event to witness. Feeling conflicted on what just happened between the two of them, Reid awkwardly lifted a hand to press uneven rubs on Morgan's back, "It'll… it'll be alright—" Morgan retched again. Reid sighed and continued with the hand motion, "Oh, God, that's disgusting. Please stop vomiting." Morgan spit out more foul stomach acid. Reid nodded slowly, "I am… so sorry all of that alcohol ended up in a fake fichus." Morgan began to laugh and replied in a raspier, hoarse voice as he sat back up on Reid's lap, "Me too. God, this is gonna hurt tomorrow."

Reid replied, shaking his head in disappointment, "That's what you get when you put stuff like that in your body, I guess."

"That's what she said," Morgan chuckled, rubbing his forefinger up and down Reid's cheek, "Your skin is really soft for a dude."

"I moisturize." Reid shrugged, raising his eyebrow at Morgan's intrusion of personal space.

Morgan took off Reid's party hat and ran his fingers through his short cropped hair, "Your hair is soft too."

"I condition."

Morgan began to smile, "You're funny."

"I am?"

He laughed heartily, pawing at Reid's tie, "Really, you are."

"Okay."

"You wanna have sex?" Morgan propositioned with a shockingly straight face.

Reid stammered after such a quick, inappropriate question, "You're drunk."

"No shit, Sherlock. I am fucking trashed." Morgan announced, "And I just got slapped by three Columbian girls."

Reid tried not to take his words to heart, "So, I'm the next best thing."

"No," Morgan replied.

Reid raised his eyebrow, "How?"

"You're pretty dumb, pretty boy."

"Tell me what you really think." Reid sighed, folding his arms across his chest and gave Morgan room to elaborate.

Morgan laughed, "I think I just asked to have sex with you."

"You have sex with everybody," Reid growled, "You'd have sex with a lamppost if it looked at you long enough."

"And it would never have had better," he grinned.

"You and your ego."

"It's not the only thing about me that's big," he raised his eyebrows.

"Fuck you."

"Wouldn't you like to."

Reid glared back, "I'd like to think that you'd like me to like you to, because when you think I wouldn't like you to like me, I end up liking you a lot."

Morgan paused, "…wait, what?"

Reid sighed and stood, gently moving Morgan from his legs, "Go fuck a Columbian."

A/N: Yeah. So, that happened. It's gonna be a multi-chap that's gonna be up some time next week. Look out for that, I guess. Reid and Review! :3

Blue