Don't Know Much About History

Derek Morgan was watching Spencer Reid, BAU kid genius extraordinaire, sit at his desk and build what appeared to be an explosive of some variety. He was bent over a series of film canisters that he had glued together, pushing hair out of his face and muttering.

"Kid," Morgan tried. "Hey, kid."

Reid snapped his head up. "Did you see Hotch?"

"Uh, no."

Reid bent over his work again. "Good. He said no physics magic."

"Are you doing physics magic?"

Reid nodded.

Morgan looked both ways and joined Reid at his desk. :Where are you going to blow it up at?"

Reid checked both ways. "Strauss's office."

"You lost your MIND?"

"Morgan, shut up! God, I didn't want everyone to know."

Morgan immediately lowered his voice. "Sorry. You're going to blow that thing up in Strauss's office?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because she's a bitch."

Morgan blinked. Reid never cursed.

"Because she's a bitch," Reid repeated. "She's been on Hotch's ass since forever, she yells at JJ, and I heard her call me an autistic savant. I'm not autistic."

"I know that. Is this gonna kill her?"

"No, but if she stands too close it might light her hair on fire. It's not meant to mix with mousse or perfume, I can't predict the chemical reaction without samples. Mostly it'll dump gook all over her paperwork."

"Won't everyone know you did it?"

"I'm taking precautions."

"Kid, I may not know much, but isn't it a little suspicious that you're building this thing in the bullpen, and it'll explode in Strauss's office?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She asked me to build something for her son's science fair project. Not my fault."

"I may not know much, but won't the intent be clear?"

"She's not a profiler. I'll be back."

And Reid snatched up his creation and half-ran out, nearly totaling the mail girl, a stray agent, and Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch looked at Reid's back, then at Morgan.

"Don't ask me, man," Morgan shrugged. "I think he's finally lost it."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Reid was back at his desk for twenty minutes when there was an ungodly shrieking and something purple in a green suit came into the BAU.

"Reid!" the purple-green thing was carrying on. "What the hell was that, you little brat, you-"

"Ma'am?" Reid asked.

The lights went on for Morgan. The ugly collection of color before him was none other then Erin Strauss herself.

"Ma'am, I was very specific when I said not to shake it."

"I picked it up! I lifted it, Agent Reid, and it exploded all over me and left me purple."

Morgan thought about saying that she was lucky she hadn't caught fire, and they weren't so lucky by the same token, but kept his trap closed.

"I apologize, ma'am."

That alone wasn't going to satisfy Strauss, and Reid was going to explode himself, Morgan could see that.

So he did what any big brother would.

"Ma'am," Morgan got up. "I'm sure he didn't mean for it to explode on you. I'll help you get it cleaned up."

"I don't need saved, Agent Morgan," she informed him icily. "Good afternoon."

And with a swish of expensive, ruined garments, she was gone.

Dead silence.

And then, from upstairs, from a corner office scarier then Erin Strauss's, came Hotch's voice.

"Nice one, Reid. I hope Garcia get me a copy of the tape."

The whole bullpen looked up. There was Hotch, calmly drinking coffee and reading a report. With a lovely smile on his face.

That's when the cheer went up, agents and office workers slapping Reid on the back, offering drinks and congratulations. Reid offered Morgan a shy smile.

"Thanks."

"I may not know much, kid, but I know better then to prank without a wingman."

"Next time I'll include you."

"Fair enough."

FINIS

Author's Note: When I get depressed, I try to write something funny enough to make me grin. This did it for me. You?