A/N: I don't know. I needed 18th century stable boy Morgan and stuffy, rich, book addict Reid. Let's make pretend no racism or slavery because I just want to write an angsty romantic sexy stable boy fic for my OTP? Is that too much to ask?!

This is in no particular country or specific date in time or anything because I didn't feel like researching. I pretty much just went balls to the walls with this one.

R&R, lovelies!

-Blue

Good Day, Mr. Morrigan

Dr. Spencer Reid was a man of conviction, kindness, and brilliance. Throughout the land, he was known as such, far and wide. Most of his extensive fame had come from his published works. Nearly one hundred of his articles and theses were published before he had turned eighteen, and when he had taken a break from lessons to adopt his mother's estate in her sickness, he had written hat cases full of them in two months' time. A learned man such as he whom was never seen without a book in his hand, gave many lectures, conducted done readings, visited schools, and more. He was praised by the scholars of the day, and was quickly becoming a legend for being the prodigy of his time.

While most of his fame, as stated, did come from his published works, there were two other things the doctor was well known for: his wealth and his marital status.

His mother was Mrs. Diana Reid, widow of the late Sir William Reid, and she had come from old money. Receiving her current estate from her father as a wedding gift, they had been blessed with a large house, fifty acres of fertile land, and a small farm and stable. She had started to become sickly when Dr. Reid was around eight years old, and to soothe her delusions, she would garden and tend to the animals. Before she had known it, her stock had grown quite large. They traded and bought more land along the way and they were looking at such a very large chunk of space, that the young doctor as a child was given every opportunity to be as big a hermit as he could manage during his time away from school.

His mother's sickness had gotten worse, and Dr. Reid took time away from his studies in London to come home and watch over her. She could no longer tend to the gardens and the doctor killed every plant he touched, so he had hired a very capable woman to do it for them. The goat, sheep, chickens, and horses also needed tending, and a scholar like Dr. Reid was hopeless when it came to keeping them in line, so he hired a very trustworthy stable boy through his gardener to keep everything in line.

Dr. Reid was at the young age of twenty-six, and was receiving letter after letter from women (and their fathers) whom wanted his attention. The look of wealth, brilliance, and esteem was very attractive to them, and he was of age to look for a bride. He really should have begun to attend those parties, meet those parents, ask for a woman's hand. But, the man was so skittish, nervous, quiet, and frankly… he had become quite good at coming up with excuses for his absence.

Rumor had it, the young man was far too busy at the time with his work, or caring for his mother to search for a woman to marry. Other rumor had it, he wasn't interested in marriage at all.

Strange thing was, both rumors were true.

The doctor was busy. His mother needed seeing to, and marriage was the furthest thing from his mind.

At first, his head was so full of equations and studies, that he hadn't the time to consider what his life would be like after he stopped working. Dr. Reid could hardly imagine life without his books! Why would he slow down when he was just hitting his stride! He had learned medicine, astronomy, chemistry, mathematics, and there was far more out there for him to learn. He couldn't be expected to just give it all away for some foolish, giggling girl, could he? No, he wouldn't. He shouldn't. He couldn't. So, he put romance on pause, not seeing the glamour in it all.

Then came the second rumor, and more importantly… the stable boy.

Well, he was hardly a boy. He was more of a stable man-in all sense of the word. He was tall, chiseled, and broad-shouldered; colored, strong, and sparrow-eyed; artful, skilled, and handsome. His name was Morrigan, which was what Dr. Reid had been writing on the biweekly checks he sent through his bubbly gardener, Miss. Garcia. A beautiful name for a beautiful man, Dr. Reid cursed himself for thinking it when he nearly spoke it aloud at their first meeting. Thank Goodness his foot was lodged comfortably in his mouth, and he barely said a word at all.

As the months of Spring went on, the stable passed in Morrigan's care, and the young doctor found his own habits changing. He would walk over to the edge of the garden and peer over the fence as Morrigan tended to the sheep, feeding them, herding them, making sure they were comfortable. He would spend time in his mother's room, pretending to listen to her read as he watched Morrigan take the eggs from the coop, and milk their one goat. Jesus Christ, could that man milk the devil out of a goat.

Dr. Reid's most shameful vantage point was his own bedroom. It overlooked his acres of grassy fields and there to the left was the stable. Morrigan would brush the horses and leave the door open while he mucked out the cabins.

Summer was settling in, heat bearing down from the late June sun, and with it stayed Morrigan. Sweaty, muscled, hard-working Morrigan. And Dr. Reid would watch from his window, staring like a man possessed while he pretended to write.

He knew it was strange. He knew it wasn't right. Yet, he couldn't stop himself. Morrigan made him feel things he'd never felt before. His books lay open and unread on his desk, a page was held still for minutes on end when he looked up from his studies to see the man wiping sweat from his forehead, lifting heavy buckets of seed, straddling a horse barebacked as he walked it around to keep it healthy. Dr. Reid's face blushed red and his eyes flashed with desire, his reading forgotten in place of this tempting man living right under his nose. Literally.

The stableman slept two floors below the doctor's chambers. It was just he and Miss Garcia down there, and sometimes, when he saw them together, a flare of jealousy rose in him so fierce that it nearly took over. The two field workers ate together, and Dr. Reid often heard them laughing, chatting about nonsense. Walking past the kitchen to the library one day, he had even overheard Morrigan referring to her as "Baby Girl". The doctor took a sharp left to the library, ripped an anthology from the shelf and threw it against the wall. The spine of it cracked as it hit the stone, falling to the rug with a regrettably loud "thud". Dr. Reid folded his arms and crumpled to the floor to retrieve the book. He grabbed onto it and held it to his chest.

He has no reason to be upset. He knows it too. Morrigan has free reign to talk to whomever he pleases, and speak to women anyway he likes. The stableman in no way belongs to him, nor does he harbor any dislike for Miss. Garcia, so then why does his heart feel like it's being ripped from his ribcage?

Dr. Reid stood and placed the book back where it belonged, sifting through to find the one he needed to source his work. When he felt the cool leather bound pages in his hand, he smiled heartlessly. All of these answers were in this room. He was surrounded by knowledge, theory, brilliance, and yet… all the doctor had were questions. Why does he find Morrigan so alluring? Why does he grow weak in the knees every time they're in the same room? Why is he so damned angry when he so much as looks at Miss. Garcia?

The doctor doesn't understand.

Huh, statement of the century, he's sure.

Just days after his library incident, Dr. Reid was studying the words of Nietzsche and comparing them with the scribed musings of Socrates when he saw out of the corner of his eye, a figure in the field. He glanced up to see Morrigan, atop a horse, riding it way past the allotted canter. The man was riding Lucinda, the dark Hackney horse usually trotted along, but today she rode like a champion. Her muscles flexed as she raced along the grass, seemingly free, and Morrigan looked simply breathtaking atop her. His loose white shirt billowed around his form, his boots clung expertly to the horse's sides, and when he had finally went to tie her up, Dr. Reid felt less upset that stableman had broken the rules and moreso the fact that he had stopped doing so.

His knickers had felt significantly smaller than they were a moment ago, but Dr. Reid barely noticed. He watched longingly as the working man tied up the horse and put her in her stable, pulling a brush out of his back pocket. Morrigan brushed the long snout of the mare and she bowed her head, allowing him to groom her with a reverence the doctor has rarely seen. Then Morrigan stopped, wiped sweat from his brow and continued, brushing the fine fur of her neck. He must be sweltering in the heat. Combined with the exertion it took to tend to the animals and keep the fields, Morrigan was sure to be exhausted.

Dr. Reid leaned closer to the window, his elbows on the desk and shoulders tensed in intrigue. Morrigan continued to brush the horse, pausing once more to wipe sweat from his forehead. Then he stopped altogether. The stableman reached behind him and pulled his work shirt right over his head, tying it securely around his waist with the arms of it, turning so that his back was no longer to the estate. Dr. Reid gazed wantonly upon the man's bare chest and bit so hard into his own lip, he could feel blood vessels popping. He leaned even closer to the window. His crotch was heavy with desire and his eyes glazed over with want.

Morrigan fixed the knot and then looked up; right at Dr. Reid's window, right into his eyes; and winked. The doctor yelped and jerked so hard in shock that he projected himself from his seat and his bottom landed brashly onto the floor. He scrambled his way up back into his seat, face red enough to match a ripe tomato, and he glanced back out of the window. Morrigan was doubled over laughing. He knew, he knew, oh God, he knew. Of course, he did! Dr. Reid was hardly subtle. He'd rest on his hand and just stare the day away at the stableman as if he were a Botticelli piece. Morrigan was sure to have noticed.

Well, that was inconvenient. Morrigan had full, undisclosed knowledge that Dr. Reid spied on him every day from his bedroom window like an old pervert, and with that knowledge, he used it to scare the living Christ out of him. He could have written letters, spread word all across the land, but no. Morrigan had decided to strip off his shirt and wink. Dr. Reid was beginning to gain a good grasp of the worker's personality.

The doctor watched as the stableman laughed and brought up the angriest face he could muster. The worker raised his hand in greeting and waved. Dr. Reid waved back, hand shaking. Oh, God. Morrigan was waving at him. His heart thudded in his wispy chest at the sight until the stableman went back to work. Dr. Reid dropped his forehead onto his desk and groaned as his knickers tented painfully at the sight he could no longer bear to witness.

The young man was utterly hopeless.

After that embarrassing window moment, Morrigan was going out of his way to be as forthcoming as physically possible. He would glance back at him through the window, little smiles on his face. Sometimes he would wave, sometimes not. They could hold a stare for minutes on end, Morrigan's smile fading as the stableman suddenly began to busy himself when he realized how long he had been looking. The summer had grown hotter, and he would take more and more trips to the kitchen just as Dr. Reid would be on his way to the library. They would both peer through the door as he passed sharing a bashful glance. By the time the doctor was on his way back from the library, Morrigan would always be there still, standing by the table with a mug of water in his hand and a smile on his lips.

The scholar would pass the door with a blush as he clutched his books, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear as he nodded, "G'day."

"Afternoon, Doctor," he would sometimes he'd hear back. Other times, there would be a brief, "Yes."

Dr. Reid would then lean against the near wall after he cleared the door with a hand on his chest as his heart pounded in his chest and his stomach filled with butterflies. He felt dizzy, nauseous-as if he were to be sick. But, this sickness felt so good. Too good, even, to let go. As he made it back to his desk, there Morrigan was cleaning out the stables topless with that damned secretive smile on his lips. What was he hiding, Dr. Reid wanted to know. His voice sent chills down his spine, his eyes were filled with such power, and his visage was close to unbearable. Every time their eyes would meet, the doctor would exhale deeply and all would feel right with the world. Well, it would feel like that, and like he was going to rid himself of his breakfast in the wastebasket.

Oh, how he wishes he weren't so bashful. Dr. Reid would walk right into that stable and… and… well, he doesn't rightly know what would come after that. Maybe he would invite him in for tea. Or, maybe he would ask if he were up for a game of chess. Or, maybe he would get close, touch that caramel skin and lick it all over until his tongue memorized the taste. Probably the first two. Those were more agreeable. It's not as if the third wasn't agreeable; it was simply a foolish plan. Come on, in what universe would the beautiful, incomparable Morrigan allow him anywhere near his gorgeous body? Maybe they could shake hands, or share a brotherly hug one day. That would be magnificent! …magnificently unfulfilling, but magnificent nonetheless. Just the thought of their chests colliding, those strong arms around his thin body—drat! His knickers.

One fine day in August, Dr. Reid was headed to the library when he heard the stableman's gentle voice speak, "Doctor?"

Dr. Reid's heart dropped to the floor, seeped through it and resurfaced somewhere in the deserts of India. He took a step back and paused at the door, eyes meeting smooth chocolate brown, "Good day, Mr. Morrigan."

The stableman's face scrunched up adorably and he replied, "Morrigan?"

Dr. Reid blinked several times, stabilizing his nervousness, "Yes?"

He laughed heartily, a most beautiful sound, "You are aware that isn't my name? Correct?"

Dr. Reid gulped audibly, "It… it isn't?"

"No, it's not," the stableman smiled fondly, "It's Morgan. More-gan."

Dr. Reid blanched, wringing his pale hands as he apologized, "Oh, goodness, I've made an ass of myself with your checks all this time, haven't I?"

Morgan the stableman replied, "Indubitably."

Dr. Reid licked his lip and glanced away from the man, "I must have… misheard…"

Morgan shrugged, "It's fine. Miss Garcia and I have been fixing them. It had just gotten to be so long, we didn't have the heart to tell you."

The doctor blushed furiously, "I am so sorry, sir."

Morgan waved the title off, "Please, doctor. Call me Morgan. Or Derek, whichever you prefer."

Dr. Reid's face managed to get an even darker shade of pink than it already was, "Your surname will do f-fine, Mr. Morgan, I do apologize."

"It's all alright, really, Doctor. No harm, no fowl," Morgan spoke, pausing to smile, "You are… very red."

Dr. Reid stuttered out, "I-I'm very n-nervous and I don't know wh-why. Around you, I just… I'm sorry. I should go."

Morgan held out an arm from across the small kitchen and snagged at the edge of Dr. Reid's jacket, "No, please stay. I was enjoying your company. It gets rather lonely out on those fields."

Dr. Reid's heart did Olympic sprints, at the brief touch, "O-oh, I, uh… okay."

And with that, they spoke. Just small talk about the weather, five minutes at best before the two men separated to get back to their respective jobs. Yet, those five minutes felt brilliant to the doctor. Morrigan—well, Morgan actually, was a wonderful conversationalist. He'd pulled Dr. Reid out of his bashful shell quickly enough to get more than one anxious sentence out of him at a time. His eyes glistened, his hand kept brushing the back of his brown neck, and his smile just… brought the sun into the room. Dr. Reid walked on air back to his chambers, smiling for minutes until he remembered that he had forgotten to actually visit the library and had returned bookless. When he had finally made it back to his desk once more, the stableman was brushing a mare, eyes casting up toward his window. When their glances met, Morgan startled and looked away, doing a horrible impression of someone whom wasn't indeed spying right back.

Huh, maybe that is how Morgan first realized the doctor was watching him in the first place. Maybe Dr. Reid was also being watched. That thought strangely warmed him from his head to his toes. What if Morgan had stared up at the estate, hoping to get a glance of him writing, flipping pages, sourcing? What if indeed! Even though it was a foolish thought, it still made purchase in Dr. Reid's heart.

That night, he'd dreamt of him. Now, the doctor doesn't always dream, much less likely does he dream of people he knew well. But, tonight, he dreamt of the stableman. Dr. Reid was in the kitchen. The doors were closed. The doctor was sitting atop the table and Morgan was standing there between his open legs. They were so close that their shoulders touched. Morgan was shirtless and sweating like he did out in the fields and they were kissing. Kissing so passionately, that the doctor felt it in his core. The strong hands on his body, that musky scent on his shirt, that tongue in his mouth. Morgan laid him down on the table and covered his frail body with his own large frame, kissing his neck, palming his cock through his knickers. Dr. Reid begged for more and more was given as he was worshiped by those soft, brown lips. Yes, that's it! Further down! He's so close—

"Spencer!" the doctor heard, jerking him from his sleep.

He grumbled and scrambled for his glasses, placing them on his nose as he shuffled into slippers and walked out of his room, five doors down to his mother's. Well, that erection has surely gone to waste. Their estate was very large, and the walls were stone, so for her to yell out from that distance and still be heard enough to pull him from rest... something must be awry.

Dr. Reid opened his mother's door to see her standing on her bed in her dressing gown, pointing at the rug. There was nothing there as per usual. She panted, eyes filled with fear as she pointed, "They're coming. The generals. They're coming."

He walked over to his mother's bed and guided her down by her hand as she continued, "They aren't anymore, but Spencer, you should have seen it. They were out for blood, you know. They had those swords on them. I think it was the Spaniards. They don't like the English-speakers. They think we talk funny."

Dr. Reid replied, "And we think they talk funny. What a predicament we've got ourselves in. Now, mother, time for bed."

She settled back into the sheets and Dr. Reid pulled them over her, kissing her forehead, "Goodnight, ma'am."

His mother smiled softly, "Say goodnight to your father."

The doctor looked toward the empty part of the bed. His father had been dead since he was ten. He replied to the unused pillow, "Goodnight, father."

"He says goodnight," she replied sleepily.

Dr. Reid took her hand and smiled sorrowfully, "I'm sure he did."

After that chance meeting and the routinely strange night with his mother, Dr. Reid and Morgan had found themselves talking in the kitchen more and more often. Once a week turned into twice, turned into four times, turned into every afternoon. It soon became his favorite time of the day. The sun would be at its highest and when Morgan would head toward the estate, Dr. Reid ran to the looking glass. He would try to fix his tie, straighten his waistcoat, and tame the wild curls that flitted around his ear. The poor man always seemed to be in need of a haircut. Then he would sprint down the steps to the kitchen to find the smiling stableman raising a mug of water to his lips and greed him with a, "Good day, Mr. Morrigan."

September passed slowly and the days weren't as hot, but Morgan always came in either way to chat with the doctor over a mug of water. They stood closer now beside each other. Sometimes their shoulders would touch, sometimes their arms. Each time, a zing of energy would skitter down Dr. Reid's entire side. Each time, he would smile and blush. Each time, Morgan would watch and return the smile fondly. The heat between them was palpable, and all that the doctor had wanted to do was reach over and close the distance. But, it was wrong, it couldn't be. Lusting after a man is fine, if managed well (of course, by managed well, Dr. Reid means taking care of one's self quickly, harshly, desperately with the man on his mind). But, acting on it… well, that's unheard of. Illegal even. No matter how much he wishes to throw caution to the wind and fall into a torrent of passion with the stableman, he knows it won't be worth it. It can't be worth it.

October came with a rush, autumn coming to fruition. Their arms touched every day. Their fingers brushed and lingered when handing the other objects. A week or so into the month, their hands would find and cover the other's in conversation. Two weeks in, they would lace their fingers together as they talked, Morgan leaning forward to brush hair out of Dr. Reid's face or to pluck an eyelash from his cheek or to playfully cuff his chin. Morgan became quite fascinated with the doctor's hair. He would touch a strand as the scholar rambled, twisting a curl in his fingers. He even kissed a lock of his hair once. Dr. Reid's face flushed and heart took hours to calm afterward.

Somewhere in the middle of that second week, the two men were speaking of the doctor's goat, Angie. She was nearly producing milk like a full-grown cow and Morgan offered to give it to his sister whom could make cheese out of it. He had said something about goat cheese lasting longer than other cheeses, and it being the perfect cheese to take on trips. Except he had spoken out, "Goat cheese is boat cheese." Dr. Reid burst out laughing in a way he rarely did, hair falling in his face, grin wide. Then, Morgan quieted. The doctor asked why he was so serious, a smile still on his lips when the stableman grabbed his face in his hands and moved close. He said that Dr. Reid was beautiful when he smiled. Morgan leaned closer and kissed Dr. Reid's lips with a soft, brief touch. The doctor felt his eyes close, and Morgan kissed him once more. They moved closer to each other and Morgan chuckled lightly as Dr. Reid melted into the kiss. Their hands found each other and their fingers slid together. Morgan buried his hand in Dr. Reid's hair as their lips touched softly over and over again in a shy, innocent dance. Those hands! So strong, so earthy. They could swallow him up. Their noses bumped as Dr. Reid moved his head to the side to feel more of him. Morgan brought his hand down from the doctor's hair to settle low on his waist and shocked into reality by the sudden touch, Dr. Reid pushed him back roughly and hissed out, "What do you think you're doing?"

Morgan raised his palms in defense and pleaded, "I apologize, I thought…"

Dr. Reid breathed, eyes cast to the floor, "You thought right. Just… no. Don't."

Morgan walked right up to the young doctor, "Why?"

Dr. Reid whispered, "Because it's wrong. You're a man and it's wrong. What we did—what we're doing! It's wrong!"

Morgan spoke back just as quietly, taking his hand, "Do you feel that? When we touch? Does your heart start beating fast, and your palms start sweating, and you feel like an entire hornet's nest has broken in your stomach?"

Dr. Reid smiled weakly, "Every time."

"That's not wrong, that's incredible!" Morgan let out a grin, "I thought I was all alone, Reid. I thought you would never feel for me the way I…"

Dr. Reid answered with a beam, "I do. I feel so much for you that sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode."

Morgan replied strongly, "Meet me. At the stables just after dusk. Promise me you will."

Dr. Reid's grin began to fade, "Derek…"

Morgan continued to plead, taking Dr. Reid's hand, "Spencer, I'm begging you. Please give me a chance."

Dr. Reid frowned, "No. I... I can't."

And that is how Dr. Reid found himself sneaking toward the stables twenty minutes past dawn, cursing himself all the way. It was dark and the grass was up past his ankles, making little "ksh" sounds as he waded through it on his way to the small shack. He could see a gaslight on through a few cracks in the wood and he pulled his arms around his thin body in the October air as it howled. His hair whipped back on his way, mussing it beyond repair. Dr. Reid was fairly certain that he was far from the most attractive man on the planet, windswept and red faced against the chill.

He wrenched the door open against the wind and closed it to a lock behind him. It was much warmer in the stables. The horses were all in their box stalls, some shuffling, some sleeping. Dr. Reid pulled his gloves off of his hands and stretched his long fingers out before shoving them into his pocket, "Mr. Morgan? Are you in here?"

Morgan peeked out of a stall in the back, "Oi!"

Dr. Reid strode through the middle alleyway, sparing glances at the tall horses. While he isn't a fan or riding, he rather liked them. They were tall, quiet, misjudged… pretty much the animal version of him. Especially Lucinda. She was a pretty ol' mare. Dr. Reid paused to pet her snout and he walked by her stall and she let out a patient breath. Finally making it up to Morgan's stall, he slipped inside of it nervously, "I do apologize for my state of disarray, the wind was just murder on my overcoat."

Morgan smiled at the sight of him, standing, "You look beautiful. You always look beautiful… may I?"

Dr. Reid pulled his coat from around him and gathered it in his arms, holding it out to Morgan, "Sure. Thank you, Derek."

Morgan took his coat and gave an amused smile, "I wasn't asking to help you out of your coat."

Dr. Reid furrowed his brow, "Then, what were you ask—"

Morgan leaned close and pressed a kiss to Dr. Reid's full, pink lips. Then, he pressed three more. The young doctor was quickly breathless. His eyelashes fluttered, "Wh… huh…"

"You're welcome," Morgan replied with a knowing wink, walking his jacket over to the hook on the door of the stall as Dr. Reid let out a flustered smile.

Turns out, Morgan had drawn out a chess board in the dirt and brought wooden pieces with him. He knew that Spencer liked chess, and would very much approve of a game between the two. Dr. Reid had won the first two rounds, and when he saw Morgan begin to look melancholy, he let him win one. They were in the middle of their forth round when Morgan tugged at Dr. Reid's sleeve, "Do you want to go watch the stars?"

Dr. Reid answered shyly, "…yes."

So, they did. Morgan took Dr. Reid's hand and led him out to the field far from the estate, near the middle of his large plots of land. There would be no one here to see them. It was a little place built just for them in this large, grassy plain. So, they laid down beside each other on top of a quilt. Dr. Reid knew much about astronomy, pointing out the different constellations and star charts. Morgan decided that his favorite was Orion's Belt. Dr. Reid's was Auriga. The two men quieted and lay beside each other, staring up at the sky, taking in just how small they were. They were two people in one tiny country, on one tiny continent, on one tiny planet, on one tiny solar system, on one fledgling galaxy in a universe filled with small things like them. And these two small people found each other. It was a miracle. Dr. Reid struggled with himself for a moment before lifting his head up and placing it on Morgan's chest. He rested an arm across the stableman's stomach and soon felt a strong arm wrap around his body.

They lay there like that for a moment before the doctor looked up into Morgan's eyes and gave a faint smile, "You make me happier than I've ever known was possible." Then, he leaned over and kissed him, gently. Morgan whispered his name and Dr. Reid kissed him deeper and deeper until he couldn't breathe. He moved to straddle Morgan's hips as they kissed and embraced and Morgan pushed him down into the grass, asking if this was alright. Dr. Reid said that it was. And, it was more than alright. It was perfect. They kissed and shed their clothing and kissed some more. Morgan led his lips and hands up and down Dr. Reid's thin body and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach, taking everything into his mouth and breathing him. Dr. Reid clung to him as if he were bringing him life itself, and in a way, he was.

When he was with Morgan, Dr. Reid felt alive. When he was kissing Morgan, he felt even moreso. He felt like he was living. They licked down each other's throats, rubbed each other's bodies, and shoved their hips together as if the world would stop if they did. They loved, the melded, they collided into one beautiful masterpiece under the stars in this grassy field and yelled out exhalations as if they didn't care who heard. And when they were freshly finished, panting into each other's faces, bellies streaked with spunk, Morgan whispered, "You make me happy too." Dr. Reid smiled back at the man he had grown to love and held him close as they lay tangled up in each other, "That's not wrong at all."

END

A/N: I wrote this at like three in the morning last night with no beta and just uploaded it without thinking. All mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoyed it :)

Love,

Blue