The first time Morgan mentioned kids, Spencer nearly killed them both.
Flying down the interstate, at least 20 miles over the speed limit, (the reason Morgan almost never let Reid drive), when Morgan murmured,
"Have you ever thought about kids, Spence?"
It wasn't even phrased in a way that would indicate it was directed to them, their relationship. Still, Spencer got the message. Spencer turned to look at him, his hazel eyes wide and shocked, a look of complete and utter panic in them. Such panic, in fact, that he missed the brake lights of the truck in front of them coming on. Missed the way traffic slowed around them. And suddenly, Morgan was screaming, and the brakes were squealing and the car spun out of control, fishtailing into the other lane.
Luckily, no one was hurt.
Morgan was more careful the next time he broached the subject with Reid.
He cooked Reid's favourite meal. Made dessert. Broke out a bottle of damn expensive wine, and got Spencer just intoxicated enough to take the edge off. Morgan revelled in the way Reid's cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and open and readable. He loved Spencer, and seeing Spencer this way made his chest ache with the power of his feelings.
Plus, tipsy, Spencer couldn't keep his hands off Morgan. Added bonus.
Morgan made love to him that night, kept him on the edge of orgasm for hours, listening to the sound of his low moans and whimpers, loving the way his body moved in perfect rhythm with his. He brought Reid to a mind blowing, white out orgasm that left him spent and shaking in Morgan's arms.
"I love you, Spencer."
Reid nodded,
"Mmm, I love you too, Derek."
Morgan pressed his mouth against Reid's shoulder, his voice soft and low.
"I want...I want to have a baby, Spencer. I want to be a father."
Just like that, the moment had ended.
Spencer sat up, his eyes wide and glassy, and suddenly unreadable, a swirl of hazel and emotion,
"Excuse me?"
Derek looked startled at his sudden movement.
"I...want to be a father...?"
It came out more like a question the second time.
"In case you hadn't noticed, Derek, we're both men. Our anatomy doesn't exactly lend itself to reproduction."
Spencer's voice was hard, his words clipped,
"You said you wanted this relationship. Wanted me. How can you have changed your mind? Jesus, Derek, you promised you would never hurt me like this!"
The fight that followed was epic. Morgan knew when Reid spoke he had misunderstood him—thought that Morgan wanted to be with a woman—but his tone, his anger, got Morgan's back up, and they had fought until sunlight began to flood through the blinds.
Which was how they ended up where they were now. Reid upstairs, in the bathroom with the shower running (probably to block Morgan out—he was probably sitting on the windowsill, his feet hanging out the window, reading a book), and Morgan at the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of straight black coffee and wallowing in self-pity.
Clooney brushed up against Morgan, reading his emotions and snuffling his damp nose into Morgan's hand. Morgan absently patted his head until Clooney began whining, asking to be let out.
"Come on, boy. Let's go for a run."
Morgan tugged on his running shoes, pulled on his sweats and pulled a tee-shirt over his bare chest, all the while listening intently for any sign that Reid would be coming out of the bathroom any time soon. There was none.
Morgan ran hard. Ran until his legs ached, his skin flushed and sweaty, his tee-shirt sticking to his skin. It wasn't hard, considering the gritty film left by the sleepless night that seemed to coat his body. With every step, he reconsidered the fight with Reid. With every stride he tried to convince himself that he could live without having children, but that wasn't true. He loved kids, always had. Related well to them. That was why he spent so much time at the Rec Centre every time he was in Chicago. And Reid...well, he'd come a long way since the delivery of Hotch's baby, when he'd commented that,
"Well, I suppose, if you find wrinkles attractive..."
Morgan snickered at the memory, but couldn't deny the thrum of heat that rushed through his body when he thought back to the way Spencer had held JJ's tiny little boy, talking about getting him into CalTech and Yale. Speaking as if he would move heaven and earth for little Henry. Speaking like a father.
And Derek...god, he wanted nothing more than to raise a child. Holding Henry that afternoon in the conference room had made him feel complete in a way that he couldn't have imagined. He had felt Spencer's eyes on him, felt him reading into the emotions that must have been flitting across his face, but he couldn't deny them.
Garcia had cornered him later in her lair.
Twisting her hair around a pencil as she handed him a cup of tea,
"Does Boy-Genius know you want a baby, Derek?"
Morgan choked on the tea he was swallowing—some herbal shit, couldn't Garcia ever get it straight that he drank coffee?—narrowly missing one of Garcia's keyboards. She narrowed her eyes,
"I'm going to overlook the fact that you just about drowned my poor computer and ask you again, honey. Does Spencer know you want to have kids?"
Derek looked up at her, his eyes dark, unable to form an answer. Garcia sighed,
"Oh, my chocolate stud-muffin...I'm going to take your silence as a no. But Derek...I want you to know, if you guys decide that you want a baby...I would be more than willing to sacrifice my beautiful body to bear your child."
Derek looked up at her, his eyes wide with shock,
"Garcia! I'm not having sex with you!"
Garcia laughed,
"No, no, darling, I mean surrogacy. Good grief, spend a little more time with the genius and get your mind out of the gutter, sweet thang. It's just something to think about."
And Derek had thought about it. He'd thought long and hard about it, thought about the hardships he and Reid would face raising a child together. The hardships their child would face, in school and on the playground...Hell, he'd thought about it all, thought it through long and hard, and he still wanted a baby. He ached for fatherhood with Reid—his lover, his rock, his whole world. The thought made him run harder, push himself faster, lost in memories and thoughts.
Clooney bounded along beside him, his tongue lolling, panting.
Reid's feet were hanging out the window when he walked back into the yard, sweaty and aching, a cloud of steam billowing out the window. Morgan rolled his eyes, wondering how many times they had had the argument about the waste of water and heat Reid's reading habits entailed.
"Hey, Pretty Boy!"
Morgan called, still slightly breathless, up to the feet dangling from the window.
"Don't call me that, Derek. I'm mad at you."
Spencer called back, not bothering to look out the window.
"Spencer, come on. Just...hear me out? I don't want to be with anyone else. I swear."
"But you want something I can't possibly provide you with?"
This time, Spencer's face did appear in the window, looking pale and tearstained. Morgan ground his teeth together. Nothing broke his heart more than Spencer's tears.
"No, Spence. Please, don't cry. Just...come down. Let's talk about this. I'll make coffee?"
Morgan looked up at Reid, his dark eyes hopeful. Reid nodded slowly, the impish, mischievous smile Morgan loved so much lighting his face,
"Fine. But only if you make the coffee."