Sleeping With Reid
Notes:
I do not claim the series or it's content.
Facts within this story are fabricated fiction.
My first Hotch x Reid, even if it's in Morgan's POV. Does that still count? D'8 Anyways, I hope you liked! I still love Morgan more than Hotch pairings. ;3 Please comment or check out my other stories! Thanks!
"I'm not sleeping with Reid!"
To say that those words were harmless was a little white lie. Derek Morgan saw the slight hurt on Reid's face before Garcia dibbed him. He hadn't meant to hurt the other's feelings, but it was a necessary move if he wanted to actually sleep. Not that there was a reason to be staying up! Oh no, he never dated within his work place and he lacked the homosexual quality that proposed even the slightest sexual conduct with his friend.
Derek Morgan was a lady killer after all.
-And Reid was already taken by one intimidating Hotch. That was one alpha male he was not willing to tango with. Every time they had a case that involved sharing rooms, Reid would want to pair with him. It was bad enough when Hotch was giving him the calculating stares and extra paper work when they had Star Wars marathons. Usually at his place.
However, sleeping together in a hotel room on the same bed? He'd be given all the worst jobs on the case. He swore that Hotch would one day up and pelt him with bullets if Reid gave any indication something other than sleep happened.
It wasn't just the worry of being killed in his sleep by Hotch, but the stress alone by being with Spencer was the unyielding warning light. There was a reason they only hung out for so long after work. The kid was like a freaking energizer bunny. If it wasn't his mouth moving it was his hands. If neither of them were flailing about then it usually meant there was something wrong.
He hated when something was wrong with the doctor.
Something wrong meant that it usually involved Reid's private life. Again, not something he wanted to get into, at all! It made cheering him up and trying to avoid trigger words a hassle; work meant Hotch, not to mention the various other things that would cause his mind to circle back around to their leader. He cared for the kid, but he wasn't a homosexual love doctor! He could woo a damsel any day, but to even try to figure out what Reid needed to make amends with Hotch was not his forte. He hoped it never would be.
Then there was a routine.
One he knew that sharing a room with Reid entailed. First there was the abundant amount of curiosity. Reid would investigate every inch of the room they'd be sharing as if it was his first time in a hotel. Every where they went was a new brand of hair shampoo. Seriously, who enjoyed analyzing the different hair wash in different state's hotels? He'd be lucky if he got the kid to veer from his ramble of where all the ingredients in the bottle came from to something else, anything really.
Usually the pacifier was television. Turning it on and grasping the man's attention took at least three seconds if you knew the right channel to turn it to and by now he did. Morgan would willingly give up the remote for a few hours of silence. God help him; send a three hour documentary on aquatic prehistoric monsters, it was about all he hadn't watched. If he was under the norm with luck, he'd be stuck with one of those human survival shows, or animal verse animal simulations.
Rather anything not a documentary, Reid would only be too delighted to tell you the actual facts that the show may fabricate. One such as the time lapse in starting a fire in a blizzard. It wasn't enough description between the cut screens and commercials in Reid opinion, apparently, and he some how figured he needed to know.
Eventually all the channels would fade out into something that disinterested Reid. There was 24 hours of porn, but when Reid had first turned it on with curiosity, Morgan jumped out of his skin. He had heart attacks that Hotch might over hear the moaning or groans of pleasure emitting from the channel. He put a firm stop to anything like that a long time ago in faith he'd be able to live for another case. That left Reid to focus back on him.
"If you fold your clothing more than three times it doesn't actually save room and bundles the clothing more in taking up space…"
How many times had be been told that? Reid liked things neat, tidy, much like Hotch. Morgan was 'toss it where it lands' fellow. He enjoyed a little mess now and then, but rooming with Reid got him a lecture every two seconds. If it wasn't about his; almost rolled and not correctly folded clothing in his bag, his array of bathroom accessories like his razor and toothpaste in the same pocket, then it was having a plastic bag to place his dirty clothing back in after the night had ended. So what if his dirty clothing he wore here touching the clean ones he was going to dirty later? They were still clean. Technically. Just never start that argument with the younger, you'd regret it.
If you survived thus far, then you must be beat to the bone and ready to drop off the face of the earth.
If things were only so easy.
When it came for bed time, it was a well known fact that Reid was afraid of the dark. It was almost comical how he still tried to hide it. He'd strategically have a heavy novel, one to rival the dictionary, in his hands with the bedside light on. He'd say things like 'five more minutes' or 'I just want to read this chapter'. This resulted in Derek turning his back to Spencer and shoving his head under a pillow to ignore the ignorant and intruding light source. Evidently the light would remain on all night as an 'I forgot to turn if off' or 'I fell asleep' excuse.
When Morgan did get to sleep, he figured this was when Spencer would follow suit. The worst part of every night shared in a room with the doctor was this exact scene; just when he thought his blissful dreams were about to get to the good part, there would be either a hot flash surrounding him or a discomfort of weight.
Usually when Derek was too hot in bed it was either in the moment of passion or if the covers were too thick for the temperature in the room. However, when bunking with Spencer it was sort of difficult to kick the male off himself. The kid clung like a monkey to it's mother's back. The scary part was, once when Reid was half asleep and cuddling into him, he actually called him 'Aaron'. The awkward extent was unlimited for him. Should he wake him up? Should he roll over and try to pretend like nothing is happening? Should he move to the floor?
The floor was usually the option he chose even if it meant he'd freeze with out a blanket. Risk calling room service and waking Reid up, or... toughing it out and roughing it. There was just no chance of getting a blanket from the man entangled and wrapped like a cocoon. Pillows were provided only if the doctor didn't latch onto it in place for when Derek moved off the bed. Eventually he started asking room service for extra bed accessories.
By the time Morgan got resettled into his hard floor bed the alarm would go off. He had to get up early when rooming with Spencer. One reason was the kid's reluctance to get up in the morning. He had to make sure there was hot coffee wafting in the air to even make him register it was morning. Secondly, when he did get up, he took forever in the shower so he had to take his first before getting the coffee.
In the end, a trip while sharing a room with Reid was bad for his health. He got extra work, was partially tortured with lectures, got harassed in his sleep, and then kicked out of bed. He had to get him and Reid, who sometimes reminded him of a toddler's capability (strange for a genius), ready for the day ahead of them. Follow that with a day of pretending he wasn't cranky from the lack of sleep was exactly why he wasn't going to do it tonight.
As he settled into his bed, the tech Goddess downstairs yet, he silently pitied the person who had Reid. Surely he didn't stay long enough to see who it was, his escape was much more important. Of course, he wasn't counting on it being Hotch himself. Forget the torment of bunking with Reid, the noise from next door was much, much more horrifyingly scarring.
Next time he'd shut his big mouth.