dinner and diatribes (s.r.)

3. no plan

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"Now, I know the two of you don't work very well together, which definitely needs improvement; however, this decision is final, granted you two are comfortable." Prentiss sits in front of us with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Yeah, I mean, I get why you chose Reid and I, but is there any other person I could do it with," Y/n is insistent she not be sent on this mission with me. "Who said I didn't want to go?" I shouldn't have said that, now we're arguing again.

"Agents, please. I picked you both because you fit the unsub's victim pool and age frame. I think this could be good for you guys, and frankly, I think you two are the most ready for this. Everyone else has had a leave of absence from our team, you guys have been here periodically the longest, with more experience."

Emily wants to send us undercover. There's been a watch on this man, Todd Harmon, for almost a year and to no avail. He's supposedly a serial killer, but he's a good one. He's killed over eighteen people, all young, successful, happy couples, leaving almost zero trace.

The FBI in its entirety has been working relentlessly with all the spare time they have to catch him, but nothing. He keeps moving around the states. Though we found him. He's been spotted in Salt Lake City, and Emily wants to send me with Y/n to bait him, to bring him into custody.

Of course, with Y/n being Y/n, she has a problem with that. I'd be fine working with her on this, we managed to make some progress at David's the other night. Plus, it shouldn't take too long, and even if it does, after everything, my hatred for her has died down.

But I will never let her know that- Or anyone for that matter. It would ruin my reputation. After all these years, the team would bombard me with 'I told you so' and it would be like smashing a pie in my own face.

After Emily informed us of the general outlook on our case, we still had no plan. She lured Y/n and I into an abandoned office near the bullpen, locking us inside with a notebook, forcing us to devise a plan ourselves.

You would think in the FBI, the unit chief would be more understanding of the situation, and already have a plan for sending the two youngest agents on a life threatening mission, but no. Emily's a bit unorthodox when it comes to things like this.

However, despite the circumstances, and pushing our differences aside, we came up with the following (Y/n wrote most of it):

- big house, lots of space so we can stay far apart
- pose as happy married couple so todd gets interested
- budget for new wardrobe ??
- mandatory date nights (to sell the act ofc)
- limit of four (4) useless fights per day
- never go to bed mad at eachother (to make it more bearable)
- have to share a bed (to sell the act ofc part 2)
- no kissing (unless absolutely 100% necessary if the situation arises)

Naturally, I disagreed with a lot of her original ideas, but we came to a compromise, hence the end result of a list.

Since we're locked in, Y/n banged on the door for Emily to let her know of our finished task. She stood outside the door, arms crossed, waiting for something, proof. I press the written list to the window, to which she notes and lets us out.

The rest of the day goes as expected, lots of paperwork to be done before we're shipped away to Salt Lake City. Everything seems to be going so fast. Normally there would be weeks of preparation and planning, but this mission is immediate, the top priority.

Informing the rest of the team was interesting. Penelope and JJ objected of course, the rest were understanding of what had to be done. We leave in just under eight days. Everyone could sense the tension building in anticipation of the upcoming mission; The only cure to everyone but me being a trip to O'Keef's.

As the arms on the clock formed 150°, the bustling noises faltered, and a booming voice brought me out of my trance. "Reid, we're going, are you coming?" Matt slung his bag similar to mine over his shoulder, and paused by the open elevator, where the rest of the team waited.

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People think that just because I'm a nerd that hates technology and germs, that I don't like to party. That's not the case at all. Everytime the team goes out for drinks or something, I'm never the one who actually relaxes, therefore defeating the entire purpose of even going.

If I could be guaranteed a safe space for me to indulge in alcohol, I would. Like when we were at David's, I've known him for over a decade, so I know his mansion is a safe place to let your guard down. O'Keef's on the other hand, is probably the last place I would do that, especially with everyone else already 'half in the bag'.

Luke and Garcia are dancing rather crazily, even though the music they're playing is hardly made for dancing. Emily and JJ are nowhere to be seen, Rossi, Tara and Matt are deep in conversation, sipping expensive liquor. Someone's missing though. Y/n.

I try my best not to seem obvious as I scan the room for her, then I spot her. She's still in her work clothes, unprepared for our impromptu outing, standing out from the rest in sleek outfits, talking to some guy.

She's standing with her arms crossed, picking at her cuticles on each hand. Her knee is bouncing as she stands, leaning slightly away from the man. Her eyebrows are faintly knitted, and she's biting at the skin on her lips, nodding at whatever he's saying, spaced out. She's uncomfortable, nervous and tense.

Doing what any good teammate would do in this situation, I put down my ginger ale and walked towards her. The man is facing away from me, which makes this easier; she spots me and her expression softens. I slink in next to her, slipping my arm behind her neck, resting around her shoulders.

The man in front of us puffs out his chest, crossing his arms, "Who the hell are you?"

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