Disclaimer: I am not the creator or owner of Criminal Minds and/or the characters therein. I have no legal rights or financial interest in any of it. I didn't write the song and I have no rights or interest in it either. It should be obvious, but Reid is Lily Allen in this scenario.
Five O'Clock
It's five o'clock in the morning
Conversation got boring
You said you're going to bed soon
So I snuck off to your bedroom
And I thought I'd just wait there
Until I heard you come upstairs
And I pretended I was sleeping
And I was hoping you would creep in . . .
Reid sighed heavily as he rolled over, hitting his pillow to rearrange the stuffing, trying to remain patient while he awaited Morgan. He wasn't sure why he let Morgan use him this way . . . or why he couldn't stop.
It's five o'clock in the morning, and I want ya
And you want me, don't ya?
I can see it
Cause you've been waiting on me since
I said that I was hittin' the club
Something coming up on me
And I know you be getting so horny
Cause you be sending me texts saying
Like boy just your ass up in that car
And come get all of this love
He smiled to himself as he reminisced on the first time Morgan had appeared on his doorstep almost six months ago. It was early morning on a Saturday. Morgan stood there, having apparently been to the club, staying into the wee hours.
"Why are you knocking on my door right now? It's . . . it's almost 5:00 in the morning Morgan, and you look like you haven't been to bed yet! I realize that this is apparently a late night for you but it's a very early morning for me! Especially on a day off!"
"C'mon man, you gonna let me in?" His leather jacket was zipped, his hands shoved in his pockets as his breath appeared in the air.
"Oh fine," Reid replied, standing aside to allow him entry into the condo. "And to what do I owe this pleasure? You couldn't find some trollop to take you home?"
"Did you just say 'trollop'?" Morgan asked as he slid out of his jacket.
"Yes. Trollop: a noun used to describe a woman who is reputed to be sexually promiscuous."
"Don't you think that's a little harsh? And archaic?"
"The fact that it's archaic is irrelevant beyond the fact that none of them are likely to be intelligent enough to know what it means."
"Damn! Are you always this bitchy when you get woken up a little earlier than usual?"
"You mean when someone wakes me up before oh-five hundred because . . . wait, why ARE you here? You never explained. You were too busy criticizing my expansive vocabulary."
Morgan rolled his eyes. "Can I crash?"
It was Reid's turn to roll his eyes. "Sure, fine, whatever. You know where the couch is, I'm going back to bed."
He didn't reply.
"Is there a problem with my couch that has recently come into existence?"
"No! No, I appreciate it. It's just, um, my knee's been kind of acting up and I don't think cramming myself between the ends of the couch to sleep will really help it."
"You're kidding, right?"
Again no reply.
"Why the hell did you go clubbing if your knee is acting up?"
Morgan shrugged.
"Well I know you're not asking me to sleep on my couch so what are you asking? To double up with me in my bed?"
Another shrug.
Reid grumbled in frustration. "Come on," he said as he motioned for Morgan to follow him. "If you start up with that particularly obnoxious snore you display after a night of drinking I will not hesitate to kick you out of my bed – literally."
"C'mon man, I do not snore, not like that."
"Indeed you do."
"Why has no one else ever told me?"
"I'd imagine it was because you didn't stick around long enough to hear the complaint."
"Ouch! You are a nasty little thing when your sleep is interrupted."
"When the interruption is for no good reason, yes." Reid didn't bother looking for clothes that Morgan could wear to bed. None of his clothes could ever fit the muscular agent and he knew from sharing hotel rooms that he only slept in his underwear anyhow. Reid preferred the far more appropriate sleepwear of sleep pants and a plain Hanes t-shirt, but that would probably make Morgan feel like he was suffocating. He sighed again, turned off his bedside lamp and crawled into his bed.
It's five o'clock in the morning
You ain't got to remind me
She already said if I don't come home on time
She might go crazy
And she'll be waiting on me naked
With one of my chains on
She might come and find me
And then ask me kindly
Do I want her to go crazy?
We do this every night and then
We always wake up singing the same song
Reid was starting to feel annoyed. Morgan knew he worried when he didn't come home when he said he would and he felt ridiculous lying in bed wearing only his old Northwestern jersey and waiting for him. Reid had half a mind to pretend he was already asleep when the other man finally showed his face, but that would be a punishment to himself, not just his inconsiderate lover. He sighed, rolling over once again returning to his memories:
He felt the queen-size bed dip as Morgan climbed in on the other side.
"Hey Reid?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for this."
"Mmm."
Morgan tossed and turned for several minutes.
"Morgan! What is your problem?! I know you don't have this much trouble falling asleep after you've had a few drinks! Do you need some ice for your knee?"
"No, no, I'm fine, I'm sorry."
Reid replied with a humph as he adjusted his pillow and rolled over.
A few more minutes passed. "I, uh, I actually only had one drink."
Frustrated, Reid rolled back over to face him and noted that he seemed a little closer than he had been. "Please stop talking."
"Right, sure, sorry."
More tossing and turning. Morgan was definitely getting closer.
"Do you want this side of the bed or something?!" Reid exclaimed without bothering to turn and look at him.
Morgan froze. "No, no, sorry."
"What is it?"
"Huh?"
"That's keeping you from sleeping? It's keeping me from sleeping too so why don't you just tell me and we can talk about it and then maybe we can both get some sleep."
He felt Morgan's hand on his shoulder, turning him, and then to his great surprise, Morgan was hovering over him, and then Morgan was kissing him. He opened his mouth to protest, but the older man simply used this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. Shortly thereafter he couldn't remember what he had wanted to protest. His mind had slowed to almost a standstill and he didn't think he could form a coherent thought. The most interesting part was that he didn't want to, and he snaked his arms around Morgan's neck as the other's bulging arms wove under his body, holding him close.
It's five o'clock in the morning
Conversation got boring
You said you're going to bed soon
So I snuck off to your bedroom
And I thought I'd just wait there
Until I heard you come upstairs
And I pretended I was sleeping
And I was hoping you would creep in . . .
Reid was getting more and more turned on as he remembered that first time. Sighing, he caved and called Morgan to see where he was at. No answer. He called again. For some reason, blowing up the other man's phone with missed calls seemed fair and appropriate.
It's five o'clock in the morning
And you calling
And these females got me stalling
I can hear your voice in my head like
"What is he doing? Oh, what is he doing?"
Cause I keep checking my cell phone
And these missed calls
You texting me like I'm a kill y'all
If you don't get your ass up out of that club
And do you know what time it is?
Morgan pulled his phone out of his pocket to find that he had nine missed calls from Reid. He was late; he knew that. He'd been caught up dancing with a very attractive woman. A very attractive woman who was all over him and wanted to take him home. He'd never discussed exclusivity with Reid; he didn't even know what to call him . . . them. Objectively looking at the situation they were some sort of 'fuck buddies' or 'friends with benefits' and there was no agreement to be exclusive. He thought about how he would feel if his little genius were with someone else and just the idea of it felt like being sucker-punched in the gut. He abruptly pushed the woman off of himself, pulling out his phone to text Reid and tell him he was on his way.
It's five o'clock in the morning
Oh, oh my bad, girl
And this Nuvo got me trippin'
And I know that you mad, girl
But you ain't got to worry about nothing
Girl I got you, girl I got you
She might come and find me, and then ask me kindly
Do I want her to go crazy?
We do this every night and then
We always wake up singing the same song
When Morgan got home, Reid was asleep in his bed, covers pulled up past his chin. He smiled to himself before bending over to brush the genius' hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He quickly stripped and headed into the master bath for a quick shower to wash away the smells of the club, a gesture an awake Reid would have appreciated. He toweled off but didn't bother with clothes; given the choice he preferred to sleep nude and now that he and his best friend were more than friends he had that option.
He lifted up the blankets eyes opening with surprise when he saw the shiny purple and gold fabric wrapped around the sleeping body beside him. It appeared that the jersey was the only article of clothing his lover was wearing and his cock jumped in excitement. Fighting the urge to wake Reid he gently climbed into the bed.
It's five o'clock in the morning
Conversation got boring
You said you're going to bed soon
So I snuck off to your bedroom
And I thought I'd just wait there
Until I heard you come upstairs
And I pretended I was sleeping
And I was hoping you would creep in . . .
Morgan had just settled into the bed when he felt Reid rolling over, flinging an arm across his broad, muscular torso and slipping a thin, toned leg between his meatier limbs.
"Are you sorry you came home late?" Reid murmured.
"Baby, I'm sorry I ever left."
This statement caught Reid's attention and his head snapped up, eyes wide. "What?"
Morgan ran his fingers through the younger man's soft chestnut locks. "You heard me. The only real point of me going out anymore is to come spend the time with you afterward. I should just be spending all of my time with you pretty boy." Reid blushed at the resurrection of the old nickname, which made Morgan smile. "I haven't been with anyone else since I showed up on your doorstep six months ago," he informed the other.
"Well I've never been with anyone else period, so . . ."
"Reid! Why didn't you ever tell me that?!"
The younger man buried his face in Morgan's chest. "Because it's incredibly embarrassing?"
"Reid . . . Spencer . . . you could have told me."
"When exactly would have been the right time to do that? To inform you that I was a thirty year old virgin?"
Morgan held back his chuckle afraid of hurting Reid's feelings. "Okay, okay, I see your point." He couldn't hold back his grin. "But it's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"Please Morgan, I don't even want to think about extrapolating the number of sexual partners you've had in your lifetime."
"Look at me," he commanded. "Hey, baby, look at me." Reluctantly, Reid lifted his face, which was still crimson, and looked Morgan in the eye. "You're the only person I've ever made love to, and I'd like to think that's what really matters." He hadn't thought it possible but his lover's face was actually getting even redder. He rolled them so that he was on top, and he stroked Reid's hair while kissing him gently, over and over. "Do you know how sexy you look wearing nothing but my old jersey?" He asked huskily.
"I wasn't sure, but that's what I was aiming for," Reid confessed.
"Well mission accomplished baby." He continued chastely kissing the beautiful man beneath him. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life making love to you?"
Reid bit his bottom lip then nodded, smiling happily. "Morgan . . . Derek . . ."
"Yeah baby?" he replied as he felt two long legs wrapping around him.
"I think we should start the rest of our lives as soon as possible – if that's all right with you."
"Definitely baby, most definitely."
It's five o'clock in the morning.
