Memories
There weren't many memories of his relationship with Spencer Reid that permeated Derek Morgan's love and adoration for the young genius. A few of his favorite seemed to play on a constant loop in his mind no matter the time of day or place he was in: Morgan had come home late one night, setting his go-bag down in the front hallway only to be greeted with an eerie light coming from his converted gym at the bag of his house. A rhythmic thud-thud-thud was the only sound to be heard along with a barely-there whizzing sound. Hand on his gun Morgan had stalked around the corner and through his living room. As he had crept around the corner to the gym he let out a chuckle. Reid was briskly running on Morgan's treadmill, headphones jammed in his ears and a seemingly concentrated expression fixed on his flushed face. His fitted navy FBI T-shirt was streaked with sweat down the small of his back and his hair was swept around his forehead, matted and dark from the humidity in the room and Morgan let his eyes run the length of Reid's lithe form, taking in his slim shoulders, long torso and deliciously lengthy legs. Reid never ran on the treadmill voluntarily – more often than not Morgan had to tackle furiously kicking limbs as he dragged his boyfriend into the weight room at the FBI and Morgan couldn't help but smile as he remembered Garcia mentioning that Reid was attempting to bulk up in muscle with the intention of impressing him in the bedroom.
There were other memories too that would never fail to make Morgan laugh or at the very least smile. He thought back to the time he first spent the night at Reid's apartment after a heated session of lovemaking. Their sweaty bodies had moved together with complete cohesion, Morgan pressing his lips the dip between Reid's neck and collarbone causing his lustful lover to emit a wistful moan and thrust up with his slim hips to meet his own. When they had finished and were retiring to bed, Reid had immediately gotten up and starting rearranging the pillows so they formed a soft circle around him.
"Baby boy, what on Earth are you doing?" Morgan had propped himself up on his elbow and was curiously watching as Reid settled under the covers, pulling all the pillows closer.
Reid turned to him with a bewildered look on his face. "I'm getting ready for bed…" he had insisted. "I'm making the nest."
Morgan considered this. "The what?"
"The nest," Reid shot back, throwing a glare at his boyfriend that held all the intensity and fierceness of a four-day-old French fry that had been left out in the sun as though he was daring Morgan to make a sarcastic comment. "It's more comfortable this way."
Morgan let a loud laugh escape his lips at the thought of his boyfriend acting in a similar sense to a pregnant chicken.
"Well, if you're going to guffaw over this then you can't come in here. You sleep on that side." Reid had said, giving Morgan a small shove onto the other side of the bed. He tossed the older agent a pillow that obviously wasn't as puffy or plush as the others. In fact, it felt like it had been stuffed like newspaper. Was this his punishment?
"Well wait a second here Pretty Boy-"
"No, no. It's too late. You insulted the nest. Ergo, you don't get to be in it." Reid turned over stubbornly, snuggling deep under the covers until only his dark amber hair was visible.
Morgan chuckled at Reid's childlike behavior and lay on his back, certain that Reid would roll over any minute and press himself into Morgan like he usually did when they had spent the night at his house. When Reid remained defiantly turned over, Morgan was filled with a silly sense of exclusion.
"Baby?"
"Mmm," Reid gave a non-committal grunt of recognition into his pillows.
"If I apologize, can I be in the nest with you?"
Reid rolled over, his lips set in a firm line that eventually turned into a small smile as he observed his boyfriend.
"I'm sorry, baby," Morgan reached over to push some of Reid's hair away from his eyes and kissed him tenderly, letting their lips linger together.
"Okay," he said softly, opening up some of the pillows to include Morgan.
Morgan scooted in, wrapping his arms around Reid's middle and trailing a series of small kisses up the back of Reid's neck. Reid sighed contently and wriggled closer into his boyfriend's warmth.
"You love the nest… don't deny it." He whispered into the dimly lit room.
"Yeah, yeah, Pretty Boy," Morgan had replied, smiling, letting his eyes flutter closed.
More images flashed through Morgan's mind with intensity: Reid peacefully eating a hotdog without a bun as though it were a banana and then turning around and eating an onion as though it were an apple (something Morgan never entirely understood); Reid snuggled in his arms, hands fisted in Morgan's shirt to keep him close….and while those memories were definitely in the top selection, one in particular seemed to ensconce itself in Morgan's brain in absolute clarity and provision.
October was without a doubt Reid's favorite month of the year firstly because the 9th was Reid's birthday and Halloween was on the 31st. Morgan was pretty certain that if the entire month could be a national holiday, Reid would be the first one campaigning for it. He had awoken the morning of the 1st with a terrible headache after a nasty case had ended last night. Loud slicing noises pervaded the silence of the house and Morgan lay back in bed, closing his eyes and cursing as he realized what day it was.
"Reid!" Morgan yelled, flinging the covers back over his head. "I swear to God, man, if you cannot come up with a good reason to be carving pumpkins at 6 am, I'm gonna come in there and throw the damn things out the window."
The slicing came to an immediate halt and Reid hurried into the bedroom in his pajamas, a carving knife clutched in pumpkin-gut-covered hands. From the dim light of the bedroom he looked like he had some serious carotene overdose disease. "I do have a good reason. I'm working on a project." He said mysteriously.
"Yeah? Are you attending the Annual Halloweirdo convention again this year?" Morgan had shot back sarcastically, squinting his eyes as his headache overpowered his clear vision.
Reid's eyes clouded over and Morgan watched as they went from hurt to fury to absolute devastation in a matter of seconds. "No," he finally mumbled.
Morgan knew he had hurt Reid but right now he just didn't care. He felt as though a hammer was consistently pounding into his temple in a slow rhythmic beat. He flung the covers off him, desperate for some fresh air suddenly.
"I'm not dealing with this." He murmured, scooping up his clothes and hurriedly throwing them on. "I'll see you at work." As he stormed into the living room a squelching sound and then a thud could be heard followed by: "Are you shitting me, Reid?"
Reid's heart pounded as he hurried after Morgan, desperately fighting to keep his tears hidden behind his eyes. Morgan lay covered in pumpkin insides, having evidently slipped on a pile upon entering the messy room. A smashed pumpkin had impaled itself on Morgan's right shoe.
"No, I'm not shitting you, Derek. My intentions were quite the opposite actually," Reid's voice wavered between high and low pitched as though he couldn't quite decide if he needed to adopt an apologetic or defensive manner.
Morgan hoisted himself up, wiping the slime off of him as best as he could and shot Reid an angry glare. "Yeah? Well right now I don't really give a shit what those intentions are. I have a massive headache and waking up to the sounds of a pumpkin massacre happening in my living room aren't really helping believe it or not. I'm leaving." He stated, his voice ragged. He turned to look at Reid who had turned a ghostly white, the knife still defiantly held in his hand. Morgan felt a wave of guilt pass over him but shook it off quickly, storming through the doorway.
Reid didn't show up at work that day, Hotch citing "personal reasons" to Morgan when he inquired about it. As turned into his driveway and shut off his bike, Morgan bit a nail. Two Advil later and a glass of water he had realized the unnecessary intensity of his fight with Reid. He felt his stomach drop as he remembered Reid's absolute devastation as he internalized Morgan's words. Reid had done absolutely nothing wrong, Morgan thought to himself. His only fault was perhaps being a little too overexcited about a holiday but Christ he was an asshole, Morgan cursed to himself, turning the key in the lock.
He entered into the familiarly darkened hallway with all the intention of setting his go-bag down and immediately turning around to drive to Reid's apartment when all of a sudden an ocher glow caught his eye and he turned into the main foyer. Hundreds of pumpkins sat glowing in the dark of the house, resembling orange hot air balloons against an inky black sky. Some were whole and others were carved into elaborate shapes and Morgan felt his mouth drop open –a rare occurrence – as he read the swirling letters to spell Happy Anniversary, I Love You Derek Morgan. Their creator lay in the center of room, arms sprawled out, the rise and fall of his chest telling Morgan that Reid had exhausted himself carving the pumpkins and in turn waiting for Morgan to eventually come home. He was still in his pajamas though they weren't so much as a light blue anymore as they were a weirdly brown tinged pattern from constant carving. Reid's mouth was slightly open and his hair covered his eyes but he was bathed in a healthy orange-pink glow from the candles in the pumpkins and Morgan felt a simultaneous burst of guilt and love for his boyfriend.
He picked his way through the pumpkin minefield and kneeled next to Reid, tucking his hair behind his ears for him. Reid's eyes fluttered open and he drank Morgan in with his hazelnut-colored eyes.
"Oh, Baby boy, what did you do?" Morgan whispered, brushing a rough hand over Reid's smooth cheekbone.
"I wanted to surprise you," he squeaked. "Today is our anniversary and I wanted to tell you I love you and… I guess I messed up….I-I don't know…I-.I'm sorry," he trailed off, curling into himself on the floor.
Morgan closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself for forgetting their six-month anniversary. He set his lips in a firm line in regret of all his actions that then lay down next to Reid, taking his hand and brushing small circles with his thumb over Reid's knuckles. "You shouldn't be sorry in the slightest, baby. God, I was an asshole this morning…and you did all of this….just for me…..I-words-…..words can't even describe what I'm feeling right now," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't remember our anniversary," he continued. "I never in a million years did I ever expect this could happen… I love you too, Spencer Reid. Happy anniversary, Pretty Boy."
Reid smiled and rested his head on Morgan's chest, a wash of relief and pride filling his chest.
The two agents continued to lie in the middle of the room surrounded by glowing pumpkins until Reid broke the silence.
"Morgan?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"What if I were to tell you that I actually was planning on attending the Annual Halloweirdo convention this year?"