Reid hadn't really thought about his hair in a couple years. He had gotten it cut when he joined the FBI, and trimmed it occasionally, but he had not gotten it cut any shorter. It reached to his shoulders in lush curly locks, and he never thought twice about it.

One week, though, he took a trip to Las Vegas to visit his mother. The heat was staggering, but to him, it felt more welcoming than uncomfortable. He was greeted with warm smiles and hugs from the people at the clinic where his mother resided. When he met her in one of the armchairs reading a book, he was overly glad that she recognized him and seemed to not be having any sort of episode.

"Spencer, baby, what is with your hair?" she cooed, frowning at him while pushing back a strand of his brown hair.

"What about it?" he asked, suddenly worried.

She smiled a little sadly at him. "Honey, you kind of look like Jesus. You should get it cut."

She returned to reading her book. Reid glanced at a mirror on the wall and self-consciously pushed his hair behind his ears. He had never really cared what people said about his hair, but he sort of thought it made him look older. Not like Jesus-old, though….

She did not make another comment about his hair the rest of his visit, but he thought about it until he touched back down in Virginia two days later. He knew he had to be to work in an hour, but a hair shop was just down the street from his office. He drove to the shopping area and walked into the barber with a sense of foreboding.

"What can I do for you, hun?" a brunette girl asked him, smiling as he glanced around the room.

"I need a haircut."

"Perfect! I'm available now," she said, beaming. "Step over here, love."

He shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair as a thin cape was draped around his body.

"How short are we talkin' here?" she asked him, wetting his hair.

He debated for a full ten seconds before saying boldly, "Whatever you think would look good."

She grinned at him wickedly and then said, "I know just what to do."

When she was done blow-drying his cut hair, he was afraid to look into the mirror. When he saw the new shaggy hair and bangs, it took him a moment to realize it was still the same Spencer Reid. He looked about five years younger, which was definitely not what he needed when he was already called 'kid' at work everyday.

Late for work, he quickly thanked and paid her before rushing to his car for work.

Don't think about it, he told himself sternly as he drove into the parking lot of the FBI Headquarters. Just don't even think about it. Maybe no one will notice. He actually laughed to himself at the very thought as he strolled hastily through the building.

Reid entered the bullpen and was discouraged when he saw his team in the round table room. Biting back dread, he marched across the hallway and slowed his speed when he entered the room.

"Well…hello," said J.J., sounding surprised but pleased.

Hotch and Rossi were staring at him as if he had just come in with a fruit hat and a dress on, which Reid then believed would have been a better choice.

"What, did you join a boy band?" Hotch asked him, frowning.

The question threw Reid off for a spilt second before replying with the obvious answer, "No."

Morgan and Prentiss chuckled, and the team returned its attention back to the case at hand.

Great, Reid thought savagely. So I'm either Jesus or in a boy band. He glanced up and caught Prentiss's eyes. She winked at him, smiling.

Well, maybe the hair cut wasn't such a bad idea.