Morgan pulled the cabin door shut against the wind, barring the doors against the weather raging outside. For the fiftieth time that evening, he cursed Maine in January. Then he turned to his partner, tossing him a blanket from the cabin's thankfully well-stocked cupboards. Reid stood in the doorway, dripping rivulets of icy water onto the hardwood floor and the welcome mat. Morgan looked him over once more, still incredulous at the thought that Reid had fallen into a frozen lake during pursuit of an UnSub.
Actually, Morgan could believe the fall. What he could not believe was that Reid had survived, and was now standing in this tiny little cabin – in which they were stuck, by the way, the SUV having quit half a mile up the road – very much alive. And shivering, Morgan realized, as he turned from building a small fire in the grate.
"Hey, come here, let me warm you up." Morgan sat on the floor in front of the fire, opening his arms to his friend. Spencer shied away.
"Morgan, I don't think that's a–"
"It's just a hug, Reid. Come here."
"R-r-really, Morgan, I'm f-f-f-fine. D-d-did you know that hypothermia-"
"Don't want to hear it, kid," he said, tugging at Spencer's blanket.
"Ok," said the young man finally, sitting beside Morgan, who turned to wrap his arms around him. Secretly, Spencer reveled in the warmth of that embrace, the strength of the arms that encircled him. He found himself noticing the spiciness of Derek's cologne and the way his friend's head fit perfectly against his shoulder, the way his thumbs moved gently across Spencer's arms. For a moment he imagined Derek's caress in other, more intimate places, and he began to lose himself in that very pleasant thought, but then he realized that Derek was speaking to him.
"-hypothermia actually takes an extended amount of time to set in," he was explaining, looking concernedly at Spencer.
"Sorry, what?" Derek gave him a curious look.
"What's the matter with you, kid?"
Reid brushed it off. "N-n-nothing, just thinking."
"What's new, Pretty Boy?" Derek laughed, and Spencer settled himself further into Morgan's arms. For a while they just sat that way, listening to the wet thumps of snow against the windows and the buffeting of the wind at the eaves. Then Morgan spoke.
"You know, if you weren't so cold right now, this would actually be kind of cozy. I like cabins. And snow."
Reid only glowered over at him and wrapped the blanket more tightly around his shoulders. Morgan laughed and turned back to the window. After a moment he said, "Look, man. That clump of snow looks kind of like a rabbit. Don't you like the snow?" His tone was cajoling.
"You know, our unconscious minds have a predilection to look for patterns even when there aren't any. We have to make sense of the chaotic, and so we-"
Morgan was laughing. "You're telling me the rabbit wasn't a rabbit?"
"No, I'm just suggesting that your subconscious mind made the association between-"
Reid broke off when Morgan gave him a look. He sighed. His voice was tired.
"Ok, yeah. I'm saying that the rabbit wasn't a rabbit."
"Uh-huh. Ok, kid." Morgan sounded triumphant. He was smiling a little into Spencer's shoulder. Spencer thought lazily of how good it was to be held, cradled this way by Morgan. The man really ought to be in a serious relationship; Spencer imagined he'd be a wonderful cuddler if he ever stayed with anyone long enough to try it.
"Hey, Morgan?" Spencer tilted his head a little so that he could see his friend's face.
"Yeah?"
"When was the last time you were in a real relationship?"
Morgan frowned, and Spencer felt his body stiffen slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, when you were with someone for something more than sex." Morgan sobered for a moment, then joked, "What else is there?"
Reid missed the humor in his voice. "God, Morgan, there's, there's, emotional intimacy and, um-"
Morgan placed the flat of his hand against Reid's chest, stilling him. "Kidding, Reid. It was a joke. I've been in real relationships. None recently, but I've had them." Reid quieted, chastised. For another moment there was silence between them. Then Morgan seemed to remember the question.
"Why do you ask?"
Reid shrugged. "Just… something Garcia said earlier. Are you lonely?"
Morgan pulled away from him, leaving Spencer feeling surprisingly empty without his comforting touches. His silhouette stiffened, and he answered brusquely, "At this moment? Annoyed. My Baby Girl needs to keep her nose out of my business." Reid looked chagrinned. Tentatively, he crawled back over to his friend, rubbing small circles over Morgan's back. He took it as a good sign that the other man did not pull away.
"Hey, Morgan."
The older man sighed and passed a hand over his face. But he could help the little smile that grew there.
"Hey, Reid." The younger man smiled at him and withdrew his hand, sitting cross-legged and looking up at Morgan with contrition and interest. Morgan sighed again, then spoke.
"Hey Reid?"
"Yeah?"
"Garcia's right. You know, the one night stands just aren't doing it for me anymore. I – I look at all the other men in our unit whose relationships have been, well, less than perfect. I mean, Rossi, he had a couple chances at a family and a life with someone, but he let them go. Not that I blame him, having met his second wife. But Hotch? I don't think even he knew how special what he had was until Foyet took it away. But on those rare occasions when I get through that tough shell of his, I can tell he thinks it was worth it. To have had a family once, before this job took it away from him. I don't know if I want to miss out on all that."
As Morgan spoke, Reid snuggled himself back into his arms, ostensibly for warmth. When Morgan finished, Reid looked over at his friend and nodded. He could certainly relate to that. Then a thought occurred to him, and he voiced it with some surprise. "You're saying you want to be a father?"
Morgan blanched. "No! Hell, no. Can you imagine me with a kid?"
Reid remembered Morgan with Ellie after Spicer's death, cradling the child and speaking gently to her. He remembered Morgan with countless child witnesses, treating them with respect and dignity. Actually, when it came right down to it, Reid couldn't think of anyone who would make a better father than Morgan. But Morgan went on before he could say any of this.
"I just… I'd like to be with someone."
"Mmm." Spencer nodded in understanding. "I think all of us would, on some level. Do you know that the human craving for company-"
"Don't make this about statistics, man. It's a lot simpler than that, ok? I just want to fall asleep at night with someone next to me."
That image, of Derek's warm, strong body curled around his own, flashed through Spencer's mind before he could prevent it. He shivered, imaging the older man's breath tickling his neck, the spicy closeness of him.
Derek saw the other man's shiver. "Still cold?"
Spencer latched onto the excuse, grateful for the cover. "Y-y-yeah."
"Well, let's move closer to the fire. Also, holding you like this is pretty damned uncomfortable. You're putting a crick in my neck." Morgan smiled, cracking his neck a little to prove his point. Spencer grimaced.
"S-sorry."
"No problem." Derek stood up and walked nearer to the fire, settling with his back against the wall. Then he beckoned Spencer. "Come here, this will be better."
Spencer dragged his blanket over to the fire and began awkwardly to settle at Morgan's side. The older man chuckled and extended his arms, tugging Spencer to the floor. "No, man, come here." He settled Spencer gently in front of him, so that he sat between his legs, his back resting against Morgan's chest. Morgan wrapped his strong arms around Spencer's chest, linking his hands over Spencer's collar bone. Spencer sighed, wriggling more deeply into that hold.
"Hey Morgan?"
The other man smiled down at him. "Yeah?"
"Thanks." Spencer drew his blanket a little more tightly around himself. Morgan chuckled, that rich laugh of his that Spencer loved so much.
"Sure thing, kid."
They passed a few amiable minutes in silence before Spencer spoke again.
"How long do you think we'll be stuck here?"
"Until tomorrow, at least," Morgan said, sounding resigned. "Hotch will probably send someone in the morning, as soon as they can get through." Spencer frowned. Morgan could see the wheels turning in his head.
Then he sat up excitedly in Morgan's arms. "Want to play a word game to pass the time?"
He was rewarded with another laugh. "With you? No thanks. We could just sleep."
Reid's response was petulant. "I'm not tired."
"Unsurprising, giving the amount of coffee you drink on a daily basis."
Spencer twisted half-around so that he could look indignantly at Morgan. "Hey!"
"Just statin' the facts, Reid. Just statin' the facts," he replied, struck by the irony of giving facts to Reid, of all people.
"Speaking of coffee," Spencer said after a moment, and to Morgan's surprise the young man broke free of his embrace and stumbled toward the cabin's tiny kitchen, trailing his blanket.
"You've got to be kidding me," Morgan said as he watched Reid peer disappointedly into cupboard after cupboard.
Without ceasing his search, Reid muttered, "I don't joke about coffee." Morgan chuckled, but then sobered as he came to a realization.
"Actually, Reid, you don't joke. In general." The younger man looked unruffled. He muttered an absent, "Not for lack of trying," but didn't seem too disturbed. He found a bag of coffee, seizing it with a grin of triumph. Morgan walked to him, pulling it from his hands.
"Ok, man. Let me get the coffee, yeah? Why don't you just sit back down and wrap yourself in that blanket?"
Reid scowled at him. "I feel a lot better," he said, but sounded as if he himself only half-believed the lie. His still purple lips and shaking hands put the lie to that remark very quickly. Morgan shook his head good-naturedly. "Right. Sure you do. Sit," he said, pointing to the floor. Reid stood his ground, searching for a last minute escape.
"Actually," he said, inspired, "I was thinking of showering."
Morgan shook his head. "Pipes are probably frozen. Also, you have nothing to change into but those wet clothes." Reid looked momentarily disappointed. Then a wicked idea occurred to him, and he grinned wolfishly – if a man like Reid can be called 'wolfish' under any circumstances – at Morgan. "You could give me your shirt."
That earned him a thwack on the head with the coffee filter. Both were laughing for a minute, but when they sobered up, Morgan said, "Actually, Reid, that's not a bad idea. I would like to get you into some dry clothes. I've got a change in my go-bag… shit." Morgan slammed the coffee maker's lid shut viciously. "That's in the van. Which is a mile from here. I'll tell you what we'll do," he said, as an idea occurred to him. "Strip."
Spencer's face paled considerably – a remarkable achievement for one already so white. "Wh-what?"
"You heard me. Shirt, pants, off."
"I am not going to wander around in nothing but a blanket." Spencer's voice was indignant, but he was trembling.
"No," Morgan agreed, "you're not. I am." It was now safe to say that not even the snow whirling outside of their windows was whiter than Spencer. The thought of Morgan in nothing but a blanket… he didn't even want to quantify how bad that idea was, and Spencer wasn't one to shy away from quantifying anything. No, all clothes definitely needed to remain on in the current situation.
"Th-th-that's not a good idea either," he managed to stammer. Morgan ignored him.
"Don't argue. Here," he said, pulling his burgundy T-shirt off over his head. Spencer had to bite his lip to stifle the gasp that rose to his throat at the long, lean inches of Morgan's stomach, the chiseled abs, the sexy v trailing down to the low-slung waist of his slacks. Spencer took the shirt with tentative fingers, finding it soft and incredibly warm. He smiled tentatively at Morgan.
"Th- thanks, I suppose?"
Morgan scowled. "Yeah, damn right, thanks. I just gave you the shirt off my back."
Spencer gave a little laugh at the use of the old line, and Morgan looked up from his ministrations to his belt to join his laughter.
"Liked that one, did you?" Spencer smiled and nodded. "Well, now you're getting me out of my pants." The line fell heavily between them, Morgan's hearty voice flattening in the air. There was a moment of tense silence as Morgan stripped to his boxers, revealing way too many inches of chiseled legs. Spencer began trying to recite the prime numbers in his head to prevent himself from staring. Morgan, Derek Morgan, stood before him in his burgundy boxers. He thanked God for his eidetic memory; he was certain that this was a once in a lifetime sight.
"Right," Morgan said brusquely, breaking the silence. "Turn around for a second, Reid."
"Why?"
"Why? Because I'm going to give you my boxers and put the pants back on. It's not like they'd fit you," he added lowly, as Reid turned around and he dropped the boxer shorts as well.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Reid sounded hurt, but Morgan couldn't tell because he couldn't see his face. He'd never realized how much he depended on the expressiveness of that face.
"It means, you're a skinny beanpole, that's what it means," Morgan grumbled, doing up his zipper with undue annoyance. "Ok, decent. Your turn."
Spencer turned around to face him, once again floored by the sight of him. He hadn't noticed before, but the black pants rode low on his waist and cupped his ass beautifully. He reluctantly turned his attention to the matter at hand, reminded of the small fact that he was now supposed to strip and clamber into Morgan's warm, dry clothes. His throat grew a little tight.
"I don't – I don't know about this."
Morgan threw the clothes at him and turned back to the coffeepot, fussing over the cups. "Just change, Spencer," he called over his shoulder.
"Ok," he said, fumbling at the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers. He told himself it was the cold. "Don't turn around, ok?"
"I won't," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You know, Morgan – don't turn around," Spencer interjected, as Morgan instinctively shifted towards the sound of his name, "these boxers are massive."
"Oh yeah? That's because I eat three meals a day."
Now safely clothed in the boxers and drawing the T-shirt over his head, Reid felt secure enough for a come-back. "Only?" He queried, voice thick with humor.
"Shut up, man. Hurry up and finish dressing so I can bring you your coffee."
"No objections to that," Spencer said, checking to make sure he was actually fully attired. "Decent," he said finally.
Morgan turned around and immediately broke into warm laughter. "Kid, you are drowning in those clothes. It's adorable."
Reid looked less than amused. "Uh-huh." He searched for a come-back but couldn't find one. "Unfortunately, you, um, you still look pretty classy," he said at last, admitting failure. Morgan's laugh was worth it, though, as he moved closer to the young man and lifted his cup to him.
"Thanks, Reid. To resourcefulness," he said, and they toasted. After a small sip from his mug, Morgan wandered over to the pile of Reid's wet clothing. Reid stood, still drinking his coffee, and watched Morgan pick it up and walk over to the fireplace, intending to hang it. For a moment Reid just watched him, his arms glimmering in the firelight. Suddenly, Morgan picked up Reid's underwear, and a tiny jab of fear curled in Reid's stomach.
"Whoa, briefs?"
"Morgan!" Reid buried his face in his coffee mug, mortified. Morgan shrugged it off.
"Just sayin'. Never would have pegged you for the type. And – oh my god, Reid!"
"What?" Reid feigned innocence, but he knew exactly what was coming, and his heart sank (even though that was anatomically impossible). Morgan was grinning an almost feral grin.
"You want to explain to me why the waistband of your underwear says "Pants are Overrated?"
Reid blushed and nestled more deeply into his blanket. Morgan dangled the offending pair of underwear in front of him, and he winced. He finally said sheepishly, "They were, um, they were a gift."
"From whom?" Morgan's voice was incredulous. Reid turned away, mumbling something incoherent.
"Who?!"
Reid hung his head. "My mother."
Morgan snorted. "My god, Reid, that is a psychological complex just waiting to happen."
Reid smiled a little, seeing that Morgan was teasing him. "Yeah, yeah," he said absently, trying to brush it off.
"How many more are there?" Morgan grinned wickedly as he draped the underwear over the mantelpiece to dry.
"Just those," Reid said quickly. Too quickly.
"You're lying to me," Morgan accused.
Reid smiled bashfully. "Yes, I am."
Morgan almost howled with glee. "What do the others say?"
Reid balked. No. No way in hell. He was not going to- "They say… Morgan, don't make me do this!" The other agent was watching him stoically. Reid thought he had never seen a face so devoid of compassion. He answered flatly, "They say, 'Kiss me, I'm Irish.' Which I'm not, by the way, despite the fact that my mother's uncle's stepmother-"
"Reid," Morgan said, effectively cutting short the family history lesson.
"Right, sorry. And the third pair say 'Tear here.'" Reid gestured vaguely in the direction of his crotch.
Morgan guffawed, almost upturning his coffee in the process. Reid put his hands up helplessly. "I never wear them!"
Morgan stopped laughing for a moment, looking at him seriously. Then he laughed again. "You know, I don't know if that makes this situation better or worse," he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Reid scowled. "Glad I could amuse you," he said flatly. Morgan was still chuckling. "Me too. Oh, me too."
While he waited for Morgan to recover, Spencer settled himself once more on the floor. "Hey Morgan?"
"Yeah?" Morgan sounded serious now.
"Your turn."
"What?" Morgan looked at him with confusion.
" Your turn. To share an embarrassing fact about yourself," Spencer explained, as though this were the most natural exchange in the world.
"Already did, kid," Morgan said tersely.
Spencer looked at him with curiosity. "What, loneliness? That's not embarrassing. That's only natural. I mean-"
Morgan bit his lip and Spencer stopped, waiting. The older agent said finally, "It's embarrassing for me, kid. I've got a reputation to uphold." Reid nodded slowly. He supposed it had taken a good deal of lost pride for Morgan to admit his disillusionment. Morgan was quiet, staring into the fire. Reid watched him, the silhouette of his chest rising and falling. God, how he wanted him. The thing with Morgan, Spencer reflected, was that you never really got all the way down to his heart. You could have the raw physicality of the man – in fact, it was impossible not to take in every inch of his body. But you could never get close enough, right down to the skin, the layers of things he kept hidden. At that moment, it was this aspect of Morgan that was most important to Spencer, even more important than the way his stomach clenched as Morgan turned to him in the firelight.
"You know," Reid said softly, "you can drop the façade with me."
Morgan looked a little unsure of himself as he glanced over at Reid. When he asked, "What façade, Reid?" his voice was tentative.
"The womanizing façade." Spencer wasn't sure what made him say it; maybe he was trying to make Morgan angry. He just wanted to rattle him a bit, rattle him until something that he'd never before seen came loose and fell into his hands. "The one where you pretend everything's good if you have a pretty girl to sleep with."
Morgan wasn't angry, just annoyed. "I have, Reid. I just told you-"
Spencer interrupted him. He was not going to let Morgan redirect this conversation back to familiar territory. "No," he said softly. "I mean you can tell me that you haven't been with a woman in years."
Morgan's face froze, and his body stiffened. He turned away from Spencer, and Reid hoped he hadn't hurt the other man's pride too badly. He watched as Morgan stood and wandered over to the window, tracing his dark fingers meditatively against the glass. He shivered a little in the chill air of the cabin. Spencer couldn't bear the rigid line of his friend's back.
"Morgan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He heard the other man sigh, watched the cloud of his breath fog against the window. Morgan turned to him in the half-light and stepped towards him. "Reid, I-"
"It's ok, Morgan," he said hurriedly, shaking his head vigorously to stave off what looked like an apology. "I shouldn't have pushed."
Morgan walked over and sat next to him, leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes – another of his evasive techniques, Reid mused – but spoke anyway, his voice once more firm and reassuring. "Yeah, you should have."
They just sat that way for a moment, shoulders touching, side by side against the wall. Then Morgan shivered. "Ok if I have a portion of that blanket?"
Reid started. "Oh! Oh, yeah, sure, sorry," he said, hurriedly draping part of the blanket over Morgan's shoulders. Morgan drew closer to him, nestling into Spencer's side, and Spencer tentatively snuck a loose arm around his waist. He could not see Morgan's face, but he felt the slackening of the other man's body, the delicious weight of Morgan resting against him.
"How did you know?" Morgan's voice was muffled by the blanket and the fact that he was now facing away from Spencer. Spencer frowned, confused. "What, that you wanted a corner of the blanket?"
"No," Morgan said softly, "how did you know I was bi?"
Reid's whole body startled, and he stared at Morgan in amazement. He hadn't even considered the possibility. When he'd mentioned Morgan's dry spell with women, he hadn't even begun to fathom that there might be men in the man's life. He scrambled to cover for himself, but his normally active brain could come up with nothing. "I-I-I-"
"Shit." The curse was resigned, and Morgan remained relaxed in Spencer's arms. "You didn't know."
"Of course I di- okay, no, Morgan, I had no idea," Spencer confessed, looking worriedly at his friend.
"Great. That's great." Morgan crossed his arms over his chest and watched the snow falling for a moment. Then he tipped his head up to look at Reid.
"Hey, Reid?" He asked with some humor, smiling up at his friend.
"Yeah?"
"I'm bi."
Reid laughed, a warm honey laugh, and Morgan relaxed, letting his gaze slip from Reid but also uncrossing his arms and nestling further into the blanket.
"Oh yeah?" Reid encouraged him to keep going, and to his surprise, Morgan did, answering the unasked questions.
"Yeah. But you're right. I haven't been with anyone for a while. I was seeing a guy a few years ago, but it didn't go anywhere."
"What was his name?"
Morgan gave a short laugh. "Does it matter?" Spencer wasn't sure why, but it did. "Yeah."
Reid couldn't see Morgan's face, but he just knew the other man was arching his eyebrows, giving him the gesture that meant, if it's important to you. He had to hold in the laugh this image elicited. Morgan thought for a moment, then seemed to decide that a first name would be harmless.
"His name was Rick." He said it simply, as if that were not only the man's name, but also the only thing Spencer needed to know about the man. Perhaps the only thing there was to know, Spencer thought, at least until Morgan continued.
"Ricky. Richard. All short for dick, apparently, because even though the sex was good-" Spencer shivered, "-the guy was a real heel."
Perhaps noticing Spencer's reaction and misinterpreting it as disgust, Morgan glanced up at his friend again. "Is it ok that I'm telling you this?"
"Yeah," Spencer said. "How long have you, um, have you known?"
"That I was bi?" Morgan sounded a little surprised, as if he himself had never thought about the answer. "Yeah."
He paused for a moment to think. "God, all my life, I think. I mean, through high school I mostly brushed it off; there were enough pretty girls to go with. But once I got to college…" Morgan trailed off.
"You discovered men?" The moment the words left his mouth, Spencer hated them for being cliché and textbook and very naïve. But Morgan just nodded and laughed. "You could say that. I just… you know, I've never been a relationship kind of guy. I just realized I was going home with the men more often than the women."
For the moment that answered all of Spencer's questions, and he simply sat, churning over this new information in his head. His mind was crying out that Morgan, his Morgan, was actually bi. He's into men. He's into men. My god, Derek Morgan is into men. Much more coolly than he would have thought possible, Spencer reminded his treacherous mind that into men was not necessarily the same thing as into him. Something occurred to him then, and he turned towards the man at his side.
"Hey, Morgan?"
Morgan sighed in a manner that suggested the questions were becoming a little tiresome, but answered before Reid could take it back. "Yeah?"
"Why did you cover it up?"
"When I came to the BAU?
"Yeah." Morgan sighed. He didn't really have a good answer for that question, but he looked for one anyway.
"It was just easier. At the beginning, one of the older agents – you never met him – was homophobic, so it just helped our working relationship if I talked about the women I'd been with. And later… By then I was already the protector, the straight arrow."
"That's Hotch," Reid said matter-of-factly, and Morgan nodded his agreement. "Yeah," he said, "but… I don't know, I'd like to think that's me too."
Reid remembered the thousand times Morgan had rushed to protect him, the way he felt safe wrapped in those arms. He rushed to reassure his coworker, saying fiercely, "It is, Morgan."
Morgan tipped his head back again and gave Reid a little smile of thanks before continuing. "So, I don't know, I liked that role. It was just easier, and it was fun, in a way, to play the womanizer. Made relationships with female coworkers a hell of a lot easier."
"Like Garcia?" Reid asked, suddenly realizing how much sense their relationship made if Morgan was bi. It explained the easy flirtation without any real sexual tension, as well as the emotional closeness between the two. Morgan also seemed to see the fittingness of that friendship, because he laughed and said, "Exactly."
That sat in companionable silence, Reid tallying up all of the things that made much more sense in light of this new information about Morgan. He smiled to think of Morgan laughing with Garcia. He also remembered, with a bit of a sting, a remark of Morgan's that had been gnawing away at him for years: "I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be in love with another man." His heart gave a tiny leap of hope as he realized that the operative words in that statement had been 'in love,' rather than the homophobic cast he himself had given them, replaying the line time and again as proof of Morgan's indifference to him.
Perhaps Morgan felt him stiffen a little at the memory, because he asked, "Hey, this doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?"
Reid looked up in surprise. "That you're bi?"
"No," Morgan answered carefully, "that I'm holding you."
The whisper escaped Reid's lips before he could stop it: God no. Then he caught himself, fairly sure that Morgan had not heard, and amended, "I mean, no. Nope, it doesn't bother me."
Morgan gave him a funny look. "You sure?"
Reid smiled down at Morgan, suddenly struck by the fact that it was actually he who was holding Morgan. "Yep," he said, cheerfulness belying the jolt of electricity that shuddered through him at that realization. Something about the articulation of it – Spencer Reid is holding Derek Morgan – just tied his stomach into little fluttery knots.
"Good," Morgan said, managing to infuse the single word with all of his relief at Spencer's reaffirmation of friendship. However, Spencer unknowingly yanked that security out from under his friend again when he asked, "I guess this changes things, right?"
Derek's voice was worried when he asked, "How so?"
"I mean…" Spencer wavered for a moment, then settled for honesty. "You've been surprisingly up front about all this. Does that mean we can have that kind of friendship now?"
Now Derek seemed curious, sitting up next to Spencer and looking at him with interest. "What kind of friendship?"
"You know… the kind of friendship in which we talk about emotional problems, and sex, and other people's underwear?"
Derek let out a bark of laughter, grinning at Spencer, who gave him a tentative smile in return. His voice still held the bubble of his laughter when he asked, "Do you want that?"
Spencer smiled at him then, really smiled. "Yeah," he said, as if only just realizing it himself. "Yeah, I think I do."
Derek's voice sobered, and he looked directly at Reid when he asked, "Hey Spence?"
It took all of Spencer's considerable control not to react to the nickname. He schooled his voice into calmness, trying not to let the wave of joy that had just blindsided him show in his casual, "Yeah?"
"I want that too."
Intellectually, Reid understood that it was impossible for the human heart to leap into the throat, but there was no other name for the sensation that flooded him, the rush of pure joy at Morgan's confirmation. The older man tightened his hold around Spencer's waist for a moment, drawing them closer together into what felt to Spencer like a hug. To his surprise, however, Morgan stayed there, taking one of Spencer's hands and wrapping Reid closer to him. For a moment they remained that way, Morgan relaxing into Spencer's hold and Spencer afraid to breathe for fear of startling Morgan out of the embrace.
After a while, Morgan spoke sleepily. "Hey Reid?"
"Yeah?" Spencer's voice was equally quiet; both felt subdued and tranquil by the ebbing fire.
"Your turn." Reid had to scramble for a moment before he realized what Morgan was asking for: a confession. He frowned, searching for something to say but coming up empty. "What do you want me to tell you?"
Reid felt Morgan's shrug. "Something embarrassing about yourself. Emotionally revealing." As Spencer opened his mouth to speak, Morgan added, "Something I don't already know."
I'm in love with you. The thought rose unbidden to Spencer's mind, and although it fit the parameters – embarrassing, revealing – he of course did not utter it. The tips of his ears burned a little but he ignored his embarrassment, still looking for something suitable to confess. Coming up empty-handed, he said lamely, "Um… I don't know."
"Ok," Morgan said thoughtfully. Then he thought of something he had long wanted to ask, a question whose answer he thought he probably knew. "Tell me about your first time."
The silence rolling off of Spencer's frame was tangible, and Morgan wondered if his intuition had been correct after all. He hurried to give his friend a way out. "You don't have to," Morgan said, voice gentle. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
Spencer wavered. "No, it's okay, it's just that I-" He paused to think. The answer was incredibly personal, and he was embarrassed to give it. On the other hand, it was one of the things he'd hoped one day to tell Morgan, albeit under different circumstances. He decided to hedge. "Morgan, you had to know that was a risky question."
The older agent nodded, chastened. "I did. Did I push too far?"
Spencer's 'no' came without hesitation. "But, I mean, I'm not exactly subtle about my, um, social ineptitude."
Morgan looked over at the man who was cradling him. "You're not inept," he said softly, knowing that Reid would brush off the reassurance but needing to give it to him anyway.
As Morgan had predicted, Reid only muttered darkly, "Yeah, well," and for a moment they were at an impasse. Then Spencer's desire for closeness and honesty won out, and he said rapidly, "Anyway, I mean, you have to have guessed I'm a virgin."
Morgan was unable to suppress the shiver that ran through his body. He had long suspected it, but hearing the words in Spencer's own voice made the incredible – that this beautiful man had never been touched – finally real. He shuddered. God, how he would love to have the chance to do something about that.
Morgan's voice was gentler than Reid had ever heard it when he said, "Yeah, Reid, I thought you might be. I'm sorry if the question was insensitive."
Reid shook his head, sinking back against the wall. "It's okay. I just… I don't know, the truth is that I don't want to be anymore." He was grateful that Morgan did not look at him, because his cheeks were burning with embarrassment. "But I just… whenever people get close to me, something bad happens. I mean, Austin got kidnapped by a serial killer. That's not," he laughed nervously, "probably not the best way to start a relationship." Morgan gave a wry smile at this, and Reid nodded. Then, after a moment's reflection, he confessed softly, "But I'm tired of it, of not knowing. Sometimes I just want to get it over with."
Before he could stop himself, Morgan joked, "Are you propositioning me?" He had meant it as a joke, but the line fell awkwardly between them, and he could tell that Reid did not know how to respond. So he changed tactics. "Hey, Reid."
The younger man did not respond. He had withdrawn into himself, a tactic Morgan knew was a defense against his vulnerability to Morgan's reaction to the confession. "Spence." When Reid turned, he found immeasurable gentleness in Morgan's expression. Derek began to speak, slowly and without breaking eye contact. Spencer pulled away from him, wrapping his own arms around his knees as he listened.
"I understand your frustration," Morgan said, so gently that Reid had to believe him. "But as someone who definitely knows what casual sex is all about? You don't want to go there your first time, man. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"You know," Reid said, finally on firm ground once more, "the incidence of injury during sex is actually relatively low, due to-"
"Emotionally hurt, Spence," Morgan said firmly, cutting him off. "Broken. Sex with someone you don't know…" Morgan paused, searching for the right words. "It's all about the animal. You know? It's going to be hot and raw and you're going to want stop and wonder at everything and all she wants is you, inside of her, stat. It's not a good situation to put yourself in. Your first time should be with someone you care about."
Spencer saw the wisdom of Morgan's words, but he was also overcome with an inexplicable anger at Morgan. His friend didn't understand; he was certain Morgan had never been awkward or ashamed in sex. And he was absolutely certain his friend's first time had not been everything he was now encouraging: personal, emotional. Morgan didn't do personal. It made him unaccountable angry that Morgan, the king of the one night stand, should be counseling him on the principles of a healthy relationship.
With surprising vehemence, Reid said, "Uh-huh. Someone I care about. And how was your first time, Morgan? What did she mean to you?"
"That's different." Morgan's voice and face were hard, stony. He stiffened in Spencer's arms. Spencer shoved him away and stood, pacing, before he confronted Morgan. "No, it's not. How is it ok for you to sleep around indiscriminately and not ok for me to lose my virginity to someone I don't know?"
For a moment Morgan said nothing, but Spencer saw his hands move into fists at his sides. Then he spoke, and his voice was devoid of expression. "I was thirteen," he said flatly, staring out the window. "Carl made me blow him, and then I bottomed."
Carl Buford. Spencer crumpled in on himself. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He wanted to punch himself in the gut. He had never meant to cause Morgan pain, and the blankness that had stolen over his friend's face was worse than brokenness or anger. He swore inwardly and searched for the right thing to say. There wasn't anything.
"Fuck," Spencer said softly, simply, hoping it would convey everything that he couldn't find a way to say: how sorry he was, how incapable he was of understanding Morgan's experience. "Morgan, I'm sor-"
"I don't want," Morgan growled out, "your pity." For a moment Reid wavered, then he slid to sit near his friend. He squeezed Morgan's knee tentatively, but the other man shoved him away, not unkind but firm. "You have it anyway," Reid said softly, deciding that honesty was, as usual, the way to go. Even though it had gotten him into this mess in the first place. "I never meant…" he said, fumbling for the words. "You know when I said, um, indiscriminately? I didn't mean that at all. I mean, I remember you once told me that you remembered the names of everyone you'd ever slept with and I believed that, Morgan, I still do. I think you're one of the best men I know and I'm sorry that I reacted that way-"
The shove that Morgan gave him was hard and cold, and Spencer slid backward several feet, until he was sprawled across the hardwood of the cabin floor. He frowned. He sat up, folding his legs to sit Indian style, and watched Morgan, whose currently inscrutable face could have given even Hotch a run for his money. Reid tried twice to say something, but nothing seemed sufficient apology. So he did the only thing he could, and as the words crossed his tongue, it suddenly became the easiest thing he had ever done.
"I'm in love with you."
For the first time that evening, Morgan looked completely floored. He looked up at Reid with a startled flash of the eyes, every wall he had built between them coming undone. Spencer felt a giddy relief flood him at Morgan's momentary openness, but then became embroiled in the need to qualify and explain that statement of his.
"Sorry," he said ruefully, "that was all I could think to say. I'm no good at this, Morgan. But as far as embarrassing facts go, that probably tops my list. I mean, what's more embarrassing than loving a man who could never want you, right?" Spencer laughed nervously, gesturing at his ragged appearance and lanky frame. "Except maybe thinking that you're straight until you meet that man, who happens to be, to all appearances, a complete player and textbook for straight." Morgan gave a hesitant grin here, and Reid responded in kind, albeit briefly. "Oh, and then finding out that he actually likes men and fantasizing about what it would be like, just once, to be his. While managing simultaneously to make asinine assumptions about his past and thereby offend him, causing you to have to pour out your feelings in a shitty little cabin in the middle of fucking Maine, at the probable expense of a long and" Spencer was almost crying now, his voice giddily inflected and nearly hysterical "much cherished friendship. That's also pretty, um, pretty embarrassing." Spencer followed his rambling confession with another short burst of nervous laughter, then lapsed into silence as Morgan watched him, his face unreadable.
Finally, Spencer broke under the scrutiny. "Morgan, could you, um, could you say something, please? It would be really helpful if you got angry with me, or something. Or," he said after a moment's reflection, "or forgave me?" He suggested it very hesitantly, but was encouraged by the upward flicker at the corners of Morgan's mouth. "That could work too," Reid said softly, hardly daring to hope.
Morgan's next words threw him completely off guard. "A man who could never want you?" He asked it in a voice Spencer had never heard before, a soft, husky voice that was part threat, part question, part something else. It sent little shivers racing across Spencer's skin as he watched Morgan with confusion.
"Let me tell you something, Spencer Reid," said Morgan, crawling across the wood floor until he was kneeling in front of Spencer, who was still sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. "Six years," Morgan said, as if it solved everything.
Spencer eyed him with confusion, eyes apprehensive. "What?" He was searching for the significance of that number, but his normally agile mind was not assisting him. Morgan's eyes darkened, and with his next words Spencer was pretty sure that his heart actually stopped beating.
"It's been six years since I've wanted anything except you." And Spencer could have sworn, against centuries of scientific thought which proved otherwise, that in that moment time froze for the two of them. As for Morgan, he could have sworn that the shiver running through and through him was the rattling of the universe itself, a deep and visceral quaking that began the moment he claimed Spencer's mouth in a kiss.