Reid My Mind

7. Sex Dream

i wish i never met you - oh wonder

"Fuck," I told the ceiling of my D.C. apartment, "Fuck."

"Fuck," I told my walls.

"Fuck," I told my bathroom mirror.

"Fuck," I told my coffee mug.

I had been doing so well. Reid and I were just friends. And pretty good ones too. We laughed at inside jokes, saved each other spots on the plane or in meetings, texted each other jokes. Things friends do.

Then my stupid unconscious had to dream about Dr. Spencer Reid in a way that was decidedly not platonic.

"Fuck," I breathed into my empty kitchen.

It wasn't a sex dream. At least I had that going for me.

I had to get going. I pulled a coat over my blue blouse and black dress pants and chucked my keys, and book in my go-bag. Off to the races.

~~~~~

God, this was going to be a long case. I couldn't even look Reid in the eye. He handed me a cup of coffee. I just mumbled my thanks and turned away.

"Are you okay?" he asked. All I could think about was the dreamy remembrance of us alone in on the jet.

We had been standing, me leaning on the desk. He had stepped forward, closer to me. Put his hands on my hips. Lifted me onto the table. I had intertwined my fingers behind his neck. He had leaned in and—

"Maya? Hello? You okay?" Reid asked again, a little concerned now. I just nodded and sipped my coffee.

~~~~~

"Buckeye, Arizona," JJ began we were seated in the conference room. I tried to focus on board, but the phantom hands of Reid on my lower back, against my neck kept distracting me. It didn't help that Reid was sitting right next to me. I sat on my hands and breathed deeply, waiting for my idiot brain to calm down.

"Thanks, JJ," Hotch said when she was finished presenting the case. Wheels up in thirty. We knew the drill.

"Maya?" Reid touched my hand. I recoiled automatically, my skin pricking where his fingers had made contact. Everyone else had left, I just noticed. Reid looked hurt.

"Did I do something?" he said.

"What? No. It's fine." He looked skeptically at me. I felt like if I made eye contact with him for more than a few seconds he'd see right through me. He got up to leave.

"Reid? What do we know about the significance of dreams?"

"Freud's theories about the significance of particular dreams have been widely rejected. However, there is a consensus that dreams may often be an unconscious reflection of our internal anxieties, fears, desires, hopes, and fantasies." Every time he started talking I felt his lips on mine. Fuck!

"Mhm."

"Bad dream?"

"Depends on how you define bad." He arched a single eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Don't you dare," I told him.

"What?"

"I see the gears of your genius brain turning. Don't try to guess."

"I wasn't going to," he said innocently. I gave him a look.

"Depends on how you define bad," he repeated thoughtfully.

"Spencer!"

"Sex dream. About Morgan?"

"What? No!" I was turning red, I knew it.

"Hotch?"

"Oh my god, Reid, what the hell?"

"That's not a denial." He was barely suppressing a laugh.

"No, I did not have a sex dream about Hotch," I whisper-shouted at him. The last thing I wanted was for someone, especially Hotch, to walk by and overhear.

"You wouldn't be the first."

"What?" Now I was really paying attention.

"Who had a dream about Hotch?" I asked, beyond intrigued, "And how do you know?"

"JJ?" he asked me.

"JJ has a sex dream about Hotch?"

"No, no. Did you have a sex dream about JJ?" I chuckled.

"No! And it wasn't about sex." He pouted his continued ignorance of my dream.

"Who had a dream about Hotch?" I repeated.

"I can't tell you," Reid said, shaking his head, "She'd kill me."

"So it's a she. And it's not JJ." Suddenly Reid looked very nervous.

"Maya, I'm not kidding. I'm going to end up dead in a ditch."

"It's not Penelope. We all know she only dreams about one BAU member." Reid looked progressively more panicked and it was hilarious.

"No... Emily?" He didn't say anything, but his face betrayed everything.

"How do you know?" I pushed. I gave him my best puppy eyes. He broke down.

"She got pretty drunk in Las Vegas and said more than intended."

"Who knows?"

"Morgan and I."

"Oh my god. Oh my god. I don't know what to do with this information." My eyes were miles wide.

"Nothing, Maya, do nothing."

"Not a chance, Sherlock." I bounced out of my chair and went merrily toward the jet. Reid followed.

~~~~~

As soon as I saw her I burst into laughter.

"What?" Emily asked, disturbed. I could not stop laughing.

"What?" she asked again.

"You," I wheezed, barely audible, "Dream. Hotch." That was enough for her to get the gist.

"It was one time!" I just kept laughing.

"Who told you? Reid? I'm going to kill him." Reid, who was a couple of yards behind us, held his hands up.

"This is so like him, to spill every secret just to cheer you up."

"She figured it out on herself," Reid said. He took small steps backward, distancing himself from Prentiss's anger.

"Bull," she retorted. I had finally stopped laughing, at least enough to breathe.

"Jesus Christ, Emily," I said, "He's got a kid."

"I will not be held responsible for my unconscious mind," she said defensively. Morgan has stepped closer to see what all the fuss was.

"Oh, is this about Emily's... incident?" I started laughing all over again.

"You make it sound like I wet the bed," Prentiss complained. By now even she was barely holding in a smile.

"Well..." Morgan started.

"No!" Emily said sharply. Reid looked confused. I might have been hyperventilating by that point.

"The jets almost ready," Hotch said. He was a mere five feet behind us. Morgan glances at Prentiss, who glared at Reid, who looked nervously at me. I grabbed onto Reid just to stay standing.

"Yes, sir," Prentiss said while I buried my face into Reid's BAU jacket, giggling.