Don't judge a book, a criminal minds fanfic

Don't judge a book

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds don't belong to me. Unfortunately.

A/N: Hey there! This is my first ever CM fic; I actually only started watching the series recently! I'm up to season four, and that Anthrax episode just hit my heart so hard! Soo, I totally ship Morgan/Reid now! I read some fics over here, and hopefully there are still some people who enjoy reading this pairing! Enjoy!

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"Beware, so long as you live, of judging men by their outward appearance." –Jean de La Fontaine

Derek Morgan couldn't count on both hands and feet the amount of times his momma had told him never to judge a book by its cover. Granted, one Spencer Reid was about as complicated a book as the tombs of literature he himself so often read, but nevertheless, it did absolutely no good for Derek to assume that was all there was to his Pretty Boy.

But then again, a night had never ended that awesomely before either, so he supposed it balanced out pretty well…

~*CriminalMinds*~

"How about a game of pool?" Derek Morgan suggested with a grin. The BAU team were taking full advantage of one of their rare nights off; they had just finished a most grueling case that involved a deranged lunatic- when didn't it?- who was convinced that he'd been given a mission by the angels, to "cleanse"- or torture, depending on who you asked- the sinners in his church.

Morgan knew his team needed a little cheering up, and he took it upon himself to try to bring that cheer back. "Come on, guys," he encouraged, finishing the last swallow of his beer and clapping Hotch on the back. "How's a little three on three?"

"I'm game," Prentiss grinned immediately, leaving her half-finished drink and coming to stand next to him. He flashed her a grateful smile before turning to the rest of his team.

"Man up, guys," he goaded, eyes zeroing in on his favorite genius. "Reid?" he asked slyly. "I don't suppose I could interest you in a game?"

"I don't play," the young genius answered immediately, tucking a lock of his long brown hair behind his ear with a slight flush. "You guys go ahead."

"Aw, come on, Pretty Boy," Morgan teased. "We'll take it easy on you! You can even be on the girl's team if that's more your pace."

A flash of irritation glinted in his honey brown eyes, but Reid refrained from answering, which of course only fueled Morgan's ribbing.

"I know you're more comfortable reading about anything to do with hand-eye coordination," he joked, "but you could at least give it a shot, kid!"

Reid's mouth twitched, as though he wanted to say something, before he clamped it shut. After a minute of what seemed like an intense internal debate, he sighed, shaking his head. Looking up, he locked eyes with Morgan. "I don't play," he repeated, turning his attention back to the table where they were sitting.

Morgan bit his lip, frowning lightly. May have taken it too far this time, Derek, the FBI agent chided himself. He ragged on Reid constantly and the kid took it with all the grace in the world, but it seemed like he'd chosen the wrong time and place today, to pick on the younger man.

"I'm in," Hotch got up before Morgan could apologize, shooting him a vaguely reprimanding look for upsetting Reid.

JJ got up too, ruffling Spencer's hair as she did. "Girls against boys?" she suggested with an excited smile. Garcia was quick to join in and Rossi was easily persuaded, and before long, they were involved in a three-on-three battle of the sexes. Reid stood off to the side of the table, watching the game with barely veiled interest, but quiet for the most part.

Morgan still felt badly for taking his teasing a step too far, and he resolved to make it up to the genius before they called it a night. As he contemplated these thoughts, a group of guys came over to their table.

"Hey, man," the blonde guy in the middle called out, obviously the leader of their little posse. "How about a game? Anyone on my team versus anyone on yours, winner pays the loser's tab?"

Morgan grinned at the proposition, casting his eyes quickly around his team's faces. They were all above average players, and they all had more than a fair chance of beating one of them, so where was the harm?

Hotch nodded. "We'll pick a guy from your team, and you pick one from ours," he suggested, a rare smile coming on to his face.

"Seems fair," the blonde nodded. His eyes narrowed in on Reid, a healthy dose of lust coloring his eyes. "I pick the Pretty Boy in the corner."

Instantly, as though a switch had been flicked, jealousy and protectiveness rose in a volatile combination in Morgan's chest. Its potency drove him next to the genius in three big strides, standing protectively in front of him, arms crossed.

"He doesn't play," Morgan stated firmly, before Hotch could say anything. He glared challengingly at the man, already miffed at him for having used Morgan's nickname for the kid and daring him now to say anything else.

Either the man was too cocky or too inebriated, but he didn't heed Derek's obvious warning.

"You said anyone on your team," he jeered. "Unless the nerd isn't part of your team?"

Morgan knew that the feeling of belonging, or lack thereof in Spencer's past, meant that his Pretty Boy was sensitive to that jibe. Before he could retaliate, either physically or verbally, Reid stepped around him.

"I'll play," the genius said in a measured voice that was nothing like his normal, bubbly, warm tone. "On the condition that I get to play you."

The group of men sneered and Hotch tried to intervene with a gentle hand on Reid's shoulder. "Reid, you don't have to…"

"I'd be happy to play you," Morgan stepped forward, still feeling angry that the jerk in front of them had dared to pick on Reid. As much as he did it himself, Reid was theirs- his- to joke around with. No one else was allowed to pick on him.

It seemed that Reid either didn't appreciate him stepping in or maybe he was still smarting from Morgan's earlier words, but he coolly regarded the older agent.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling this myself, thank you, Morgan." That measured voice directed at him made Morgan realize that perhaps he really had put his foot in his mouth this time. "Rack them up," Spencer told the blonde, grabbing a pool cue. "I'm breaking."

"Hotch, come on," Morgan appealed to his boss, frowning as Reid started chalking up the tip. "Do something, man. I've seen those guys play, he's the best one in their group. Reid's going to get smashed."

"Leave him be." The unexpected words came from Rossi, who was staring at their resident genius with a speculative look in his eyes. Morgan huffed an annoyed sigh, almost pouting now.

Fine, he decided irritably, if the kid wants to get his ass kicked, it's not my problem. I tried to stop him.

Measuring the blonde up one more time, Morgan added inwardly, But I swear I'm gonna deck the idiot if he tries anything on Pretty Boy.

Morgan couldn't have been further off the mark.

An unnatural blanket of confidence fell over Reid as he set the block of chalk down. He lost his normally fumbling air, back straightening and eyes scanning the table as he would a complicated physics equation. He planted his legs apart slightly and knelt forward, his motions fluid as flowing water, back arched, positioned tantalizingly to take the first shot. Taking a deep breath in and moving the cue experimentally between the thumb and index finger of his left hand, Reid took a moment before snapping his right wrist forward in a quick jerk, sending the white ball careening to the other end of the table.

It hit the triangle of balls with an audible crack, scattering them in all direction, and instantly sinking a stripes. Morgan's jaw fell open, his stare traveling between the table and the one who played the shot, and it seemed he wasn't the only one who was shocked.

Spencer seemed unperturbed by the attention. "You're solids," he noted unnecessarily, his voice casual. "Although I doubt you'll have enough time to play a shot."

With that almost aloof comment, the normally shy young agent loped around the table, moving with all the grace of a jungle cat, sinking one ball after the other without even seeming to try. He wasn't bragging either; within ten minutes, he had only the blackball left.

"Did you know that international-style eight-ball, also called kelly pool, was actually derived from an earlier game invented around the 1900s? It only became popularized in 1925 under the name B.B.C. Co. Pool." Reid informed them as he positioned himself to take the last shot. Morgan was still rooted to the spot, unable to react, but his team didn't seem to share his reaction; Prentiss, Garcia and JJ were cheering Reid on, Garcia offering some very choice phrases to the blonde asshat, and Rossi was chuckling to himself. Even Hotch seemed to be enjoying the game, watching on with a smug smile.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Reid sized up his shot, and shot effortlessly, doubling the white ball on the back cushion so that it rebounded to knock the eight ball into the corner pocket.

Straightening, Reid looked the blonde in the eye, although Morgan had a feeling the words were directed to him as much as they were to the blond.

"Being a nerd? It's not such a bad thing. It just means I'm smart. That, however, doesn't mean that I'm incapable of doing anything that doesn't involve books. Sometimes you should consider that someone sitting a game out, just means that they might have an unfair advantage over the other players."

The frigid tone was a counterpoint to Reid's parting smile, and Derek immediately felt even worse for doubting the genius. What did he mean about having an unfair advantage, though?

"You're a damn hustler!" The guy suddenly burst out, grabbing Reid by his shoulder and turning him roughly around.

Really, that was more or less the last straw for him.

Grabbing the hand that held Spencer, Morgan twisted it around the blonde's back, pinning him easily. "I wouldn't do that," he warned icily. "He's no hustler, you just assumed he couldn't play. Wrongly, I might add." Like I did.

"You know," Reid rubbed his shoulder, looking mildly irritated, "technically, a hustler is defined as a person that is adept at aggressive selling or illicit dealing. If you're using it colloquially, which I have to assume you are, it would refer to a person who employs fraudulent or unscrupulous methods to obtain money." Morgan grinned at the confused look on the blonde man's face, and the oblivious look on Reid's. "I'm neither, seeing as how playing a game of pool is hardly unscrupulous and as my colleague pointed out, it's hardly my fault that you presumed something about me based on my exterior profile."

"What are you, like some type of genius?" one of the other guys asked, gaping at Reid.

Letting go of the drunken blonde, Morgan smiled to himself, readying himself for the long answer the other man was about to receive.

"A genius, and some type of Willie Mosconi," a decidedly flirtatious voice drifted over to them before Reid could launch into his answer.

They turned to see a busty, leggy brunette leaning against the pool table next to theirs. She batted her eyes coquettishly at Reid, and Morgan had to work hard to suppress his jealousy. The older agent pushed down his knee-jerk reaction that was dying to tell the brunette to back off, but what right did he have? Reid didn't even know how he felt- he hadn't even known how he felt until Reid was captured was Tobias Hankel.

"Beat it, boys," the brunette added to the disgruntled group of men. "That man beat you fair and square. Settle the tabs, and get out. My bar, my rules."

"Who's Willie Mosconi?" JJ asked as the drunken group grumbled about their directive.

Of course, it was Reid who answered. "Professional pool player from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania," he offered with a smile at the brunette. "He won the World Straight Pool Championship an unmatched fifteen times between 1941 and 1957 and he set a world record in 1954 by running 526 consecutive balls without a miss, at a pool exhibition in Springfield, Ohio. Ironically enough, he was a technical advisor on the set of the 1961 film, The Hustler."

"Smart, handsome, an eight-ball pool God…what more could a woman want?" she asked in a sultry tone that made Derek's blood boil. He glared at the floor, refusing to look at the woman pointedly flirting with his Reid.

"Stop, before the floor has a hole burned into it," Garcia grinned, coming to stand next to him. "Before you get all pouty on us, why don't you check out our baby Einstein's reaction to the cupcake flirting with him, hot chocolate?"

Smiling at his best friend for her attempts to make him feel better, he shook his head. "I'd rather not see Reid getting it on, thanks, baby girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Just trust me, my living Adonis. Young Dr. Reid might surprise you even more tonight." She winked mischievously at him.

With a sigh, he dragged his eyes to where Reid and the brunette were still talking. While she seemed to be persistent in trying to get his attention, Spencer was blissfully oblivious, still rattling off facts about Willie Mosconi. Whenever she put her hand on his arm, Reid casually managed to brush it off, vague flashes of his normally uncomfortable self coming to the surface. Morgan smiled, unexpectedly tender. That was the Spencer Reid he knew and loved.

Before long, the bar-owner gave up her attempts at seducing the genius, and Reid happily rejoined their group at their table, still ignorant at what the leggy woman was getting at.

"Where in the hell did you learn to play like that, Spence?" JJ asked with a giggle.

"Yeah!" Prentiss added. "You've been holding out on us, young Dr. Reid. Spill!"

Surprisingly enough, it was Rossi who bailed the kid out. "Leave him alone," he told them with an amiable smile. "Reid's a genius, and pool is for a great part, physics. Do the math, people."

The team was sidetracked, but Derek wasn't, which was why he caught the brief look of gratitude that Spencer sent to Dave.

What does he know that we don't? Derek wondered.

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Tossing and turning for hours on end, at 2.15am, the profiler finally decided he'd had enough.

Thinking about Reid was going to keep him up all night.

Pulling on a pair of jeans and a faded black Henley, Morgan all but floored it to Reid's apartment. He had a set of keys that he'd persuaded the younger agent to give him, wanting to be able to check on him since after the Anthrax scare, and in a few minutes, he was knocking lightly on Spencer's door.

When the genius didn't answer, Morgan let himself in. Locking up again behind him, he was surprised when he heard a gun being cocked behind him.

"Don't move." Spencer's low, commanding voice held more authority, but Derek knew his best friend well enough to hear the tremor of fear in the undertone.

"Reid."

A light snapped on and Morgan turned around to see the younger man all but sag with relief. "What the hell, Morgan?" he asked a little breathlessly. "It's two-thirty in the morning!"

Ruffled hair and sleep softened eyes struck Derek momentarily speechless. Reid was staring at him curiously, sweat pants hanging low on his hips, exposing a teasing strip of flesh. An old shirt clung to his torso, accentuating the lean muscle that so often was covered by sweater vests and coats, and Morgan took a moment to simply admire.

Setting the gun down, Reid's brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay?" he asked more gently now. "Derek?"

It was the use of the older agent's first name that struck him from his reverie. "Yeah," he answered, flushing lightly. "Yeah, everything's fine."

Reid eyed him speculatively for a moment before scowling. "Well in that case, what the hell are you doing here?"

Definitely took the teasing too far. "I've been up all night," he explained sheepishly. "I can't get something out of my head."

"And what might that be?"

Derek looked the handsome genius in the eye. "Where did all that pool experience come from?" he asked directly. "And don't tell me it's physics. I'm no genius, but I saw that look you sent Rossi. He was covering for you."

Spencer sighed, crossing his arms around his chest. "I was a kid, in Vegas, trying to take care of myself and my mentally unstable mother," he answered finally, a challenging glint in his honey-colored eyes. "How else was I supposed to get money, short of stripping?"

Derek paled, realizing now why the ribbing had gotten to the younger agent as much as it did. "You hustled pool as a kid?" he breathed.

"I said that I didn't play," Spencer reminded him. "Not that I couldn't."

Feeling like the world's biggest jerk, Morgan aimed wide, apologetic eyes at his best friend. "Man, Reid, I'm sorry," he said fervently. "I had no idea, you know I wouldn't have opened my big mouth if I had known better."

With a small sigh, the genius nodded. "I know. And now you know, too." Spencer sent him a small smile that served to light Morgan up from the inside out. "Can I get some sleep now?" he asked teasingly. "Some of us aren't used to staying up half the night bedding the women of Virginia."

"Please," he teased back, careful to keep the bitterness from his voice, "I saw you and that busty brunette kicking it off today."

Reid glanced at him in shock, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"What?" he asked, worried that he'd somehow said the wrong thing again.

Reid laughed, that open, warm, carefree laugh that Morgan so loved. "You're one of the best profilers in the BAU," he smirked, "and you haven't figured out that I'm gay yet?"

Morgan gaped at him, unable to comprehend what the genius was telling him. Was Reid just playing with him…or did Morgan actually have a chance with him?

"Um, Morgan?" Spencer's hesitant voice brought him back to reality. Uncertainty was splashed over the younger agent's soft features, and Morgan instantly chastised himself for making Reid feel even a little self-conscious about his revelation.

"Sorry, Kid," he apologized again. "Just shocked me a little, is all."

"Are you…uh…are we…okay?"

Morgan sent him a brilliant smile, stalking forward almost predatorily. "Oh, we're more than okay, Kid," he dropped his voice to a lower tone, warmth flooding his body as Spencer blushed, a light tinge heating up his cheeks.

"Morgan…" Reid backed up with every step that the older agent took towards him. "What are you…"

Before he could complete his sentence, Morgan was on him, pressing him up against the nearest wall. Trapped between the wall and Morgan's body, his Pretty Boy could only look at him, brown eyes glinting with equal parts fear and hunger.

Cupping the side of Reid's neck, Derek leaned in closer still, pressing his body against the genius's. "Can I?" he asked in a whisper, thumb caressing the pulse point along Spencer's throat. "Can I, Spence? Please?"

The younger man's head fell back, exposing his throat to Derek. "God, yes," he moaned breathily, and that was all Morgan needed.

Surging forward, he attacked Reid's bared throat instead of his lips. Latching his mouth on to the pale skin, Morgan reveled in the gasp Reid let out, the involuntary whimper. He sucked deeply, worrying the skin until he was sure it would leave a mark before doing the same to several spots on Spencer's throat. While one hand kept Spencer's throat open to him, the other gripped punishingly at the genius's exposed hips, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark. A claim.

"Mine," Derek growled as he sucked another mark high on Reid's neck, just below his jaw. "I hated seeing that woman flirt with you," he admitted lowly. "Putting her hands on you. You're mine, now, Spencer. Gonna mark you up, make sure everyone knows who you belong to, kid."

The young genius rolled his hips temptingly, getting with the program. "Took you long enough," he grumbled adorably. "If I'd have known how you'd react, I'd have played pool and charmed a woman much sooner."

Derek growled at the prospect, pushing up against Reid once more. "No more charming," he warned possessively. "I don't share."

"Good," Spencer nodded breathlessly. "I don't either."

Finally, Derek couldn't stand it any longer, and he crashed his lips against Spencer's. The taste of cinnamon and sugar burst across his senses, making him groan at the sublime flavor that was purely Reid.

The two agents battled for dominance, ending with Reid surrendering control while Derek explored every inch of the genius's mouth. Morgan indulged in the time they had afforded to them, leisurely sucking on Reid's tongue before moving to his bottom lip, and then traversing down his throat and back up to his perfect, lush mouth.

After the second time that Spencer rocked against him, Derek decided to hell with patience. Scooping his Pretty Boy up so that he wound his legs around Morgan's waist, the older agent walked towards the bedroom. Reid smiled into their kiss, only breaking it to smile mischievously at him.

"You were a lot faster picking up on that signal."

~*CriminalMinds*~

"I'm sorry if I took the ribbing too far earlier," he apologized, tenderly kissing the hollow beneath Spencer's ear. "I shouldn't have judged."

"S'okay," Spencer mumbled tiredly, already drifting off to sleep.

Chuckling lightly to himself, Morgan vowed never to hurt his Pretty Boy, his favorite genius, like that again, vowed never to judge him the way he did earlier.

But then again, a night had never ended that awesomely before either, so he supposed it balanced out pretty well…

"Jealousy is both reasonable and belongs to reasonable men, while envy is base and belongs to the base, for the one makes himself get good things by jealousy, while the other does not allow his neighbor to have them through envy." –Aristotle

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A/N: Well, there you go! Hope you guys liked it! Please leave me some love, let me know what you thought! If it's enjoyed, I might write more M/R fics…a multi-chap next time, maybe!

Let me know! 3