Author's Note: In addition to one of my very best friends int he world having gotten engaged just the other day, I've gotten a raise at work and also seem to have finally gotten my internet back. Thus, I've been feeling in a positively stupendous mood, and this is how I celebrate; with more delicious Reid and Morgan goopyness. Ahh, it feels so good to write some slash again; if I had one more chapter for "Time" without making Reid kiss someone (still not happening, I fear), I was going to rip my hair out. Now, I think I can get back to brass tax, and try to stall a wee bit longer before classes start tomorrow, and I have to start writing term papers and angsty fanfic. Hooray!
Warning: Guy-guy fluff (major DUH) in the typical fashion. Very vague spoilers for Criminal Minds, Season 4, Episode Thirteen, "Amplification." And melodrama. Lots of it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Criminal Minds, save a copy of each season on DVD, and probably more than a few, ah, . . . adult memes revolving around that adorkable Spencer Reid. *Coughs*
Reviews are smashing, but I'm not pressuring; still on way too much of a sugar-rush to be bothered.
"No one else figures out this feeling, how lonely it can get . . . these words can cut right through . . . but you haven't said it, yet."
– Mayday Parade, "Secret Love"
It wasn't the typical, cozy environment in which to sleep – at least, for Derek Morgan, it wasn't too comfortable.
The giant bedroom that he had renovated years ago was normally a steady 75 degrees in the evening, dark, and completely silent. Morgan had grown used to the room being that way, he had come to like it that way, come to love it . . . he needed it that way, especially late at night when he was looking to drift off to sleep.
But in the week that he had been gone on a private consultation for the BAU, that accursed Spencer Reid had lowered the thermostat to just above fifty, installed a lamp near the bed (one which seemed to have no life until the sun went down, and then it was on from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.), and opened the door to the hallway so that, instead of the peace and silence that came from being shut off in a muffled bedroom, there was a lot of creaking and groaning as the old house settled in the night.
Though he had huffed a small sigh when first walking into his home, Derek had nonetheless smiled; his boyfriend's quirks were always too cute, despite the irritation they could cause – and besides, he was just happy to be back home, in Spencer's arms.
It meant that he wouldn't have to spend another long night worrying about the young man having a nightmare and jolting into consciousness with no one there to comfort him.
It meant that he would get to wake up to his boyfriend's beautiful, rested figure, and maybe squeeze in a few soft morning compliments and even softer kisses before giving him breakfast and a ride to work.
It meant that there would be someone besides Clooney to walk with in the morning, talk to over lunch, and make a romantic dinner for.
It meant that he had the warm, sweet, flush skin of Spencer, his big hazel eyes, his delicate hands, sinewy legs and throaty voice all comfortably close, all within reach – always.
And on that thought, Morgan scooched as close as he could to Spencer's slender frame, slipping his arm over Reid's pale, exposed chest, and drawing him into the crook of his elbow. God, his body's like a furnace, Morgan thought, as he gripped the younger man as tightly as he could without waking him. He breathed in, savoring the smell of Reid's shampoo, and the faint musk of his aftershave . . . and something else that was just inherently, . . . Spencer . . . a heady combination of old paper, and leather, and . . . him.
They had been dating for almost a year, now – although, of course, they had been secretly wanting and wishing and pining over one another for a somewhat longer time before that.
Morgan had figured it out first – not that it had shaken him unwholly, or turned his world upside down or anything like that. His bisexuality had never been a secret to him, and Spencer Reid was hardly the first man to catch his attention. But even after he'd come to terms with what he thought inappropriate feelings for the younger agent, he'd kept his distance, wary, unsure if Reid was into dating, or women, or men . . . or anything at all.
In the upset of the century, it had been Spencer Reid who made the move on Derek Morgan.
Morgan had awoken to a knock on the door.
Well, it could have been the knock – or it could have been all the thunder and lightning outside of his door. Or maybe the torrents of rain falling down. Or maybe it was the debris flying about outside of his window. Or maybe it was the howling wind.
He wasn't sure.
But, either way, once he'd been shaken awake from a fitful slumber by the crashing noises, it was to the front door that he headed first.
Still rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, it had taken Morgan a moment to recognize the drenched, shivering figure before him.
"Reid?"
The young man, paler than usual and looking thin and gaunt as a result of the harsh fluorescent light, barely looked up at Morgan's words, and only acknowledged that he had heard the other man by whispering, so softly that it was nearly lost in all of the sounds around them, "May I come in?"
Derek, only just then realizing how cold and wet it was on the porch, rushed his friend inside, never sparing a thought for the late hour, or his carpets that would surely be ruined – the only concern on his mind was getting the kid safe again.
And so, intent as he was on Spencer's well-being, he hadn't noticed the way the kid was clinging towards him as he covered his scrawny shoulders with a handy quilt. He didn't see how the other man watched him, unblinking, as he frog-marched him into the living room and jacked up the thermostat. He barely heard that Spencer's teeth had stopped chattering, and took no note of how the young man's breathing hitched as he sat down next to him, watching and waiting.
"Kid, what's up?" Morgan had asked, when, after several minutes, the soaking, shaking man had still said nothing.
Reid shoo his head of whatever thoughts had been cluttering it, and looked up, meeting Morgan's gaze for the first time that evening.
"I'm f-fine," he said, although his quavering tone told a different story – and so did his shining, darting eyes. Morgan searched his face, and, shaking his head, reached out to put a hand on Reid's shoulder. The other man made no move as Morgan spoke.
"Spencer." He focused on Morgan, and, encouraged, Derek continued.
"It's only been a few days, man. No one expects you to just be okay – you could have died, and we get that. You're not fine, and you don't have to be."
Reid bit his lip for a split second before responding. "N-no, Morgan, I am fine. From the Anthrax," he continued, at Morgan's incredulous look. "That was just, . . . being sick. It's a thing of the body, and my body is okay, Morgan."
Frowning, Derek asked, "Then what's got you here at three in the morning, Reid?"
Spencer looked up, a flush in his cheeks. "You."
Taken aback, Morgan had leaned away, pulling his hand from Reid's shoulder in the process.
"Me?"
"Oh, no," Reid spluttered out, seeing that he had upset Morgan. "Nothing like that, Morgan. I – you didn't make me s-sad, or anything. Nothing bad. Ah, . . ." he trailed off, and Morgan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to spit it out.
"When, . . ." Reid stopped, and took in a breath before continuing. "When I was in the h-house, and I wasn't . . . I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to . . . to be . . . f-fine, I, ah . . . I had Garcia record a message for me . . . a goodbye one, . . . to my mom."
Morgan was nodding along, wondering what this had to do with him.
"After – A-after everything was all, ah . . . I hung up. And, while I was standing there," Reid gulped, speaking more quietly than ever, "I remember that I kept saying to myself that there was . . . someone else that I, ah . . . I didn't want to leave behind." He looked significantly at Morgan then.
Suddenly getting why the kid was so distraught, Derek placed his hand again over Reid's, and, using the other hand to tip up his chin and meet the younger man's eyes, whispered, "You'll never say goodbye to me, Kid." After a pause, he smiled, adding, "You'll never get to."
Spencer watched him, and then said quietly, almost impossible to hear, "Even if I did something just as stupid as walking into that house?"
"Spencer, there's nothing you could possibly do that's as stupid as that –"
Morgan's words had been cut off as Reid rushed forward, and pressed his lips against Derek's for a too-sweet, too-short, blink-and-you-missed-it second.
Morgan's entire body flooded with warmth, and just as he was leaning in to deepen the kiss, Spencer pulled away, and looked at him, his hands curling and uncurling in nervousness.
"What about that?" the younger man asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Morgan stared, as taken aback as Reid himself, and cleared his throat before answering.
"That depends, Kid." At the curious look that flashed over his face, Derek pressed on. "If you really meant what you just did, then, . . . not only am I never leaving you, but you are never leaving me – my house, my bedroom, or my arms. Ever." He took in a quick breath, preparing himself, as he continued. "If, on the other hand, you think that was a mistake, then I'm still not going anywhere, Spencer. I'm never leaving you – no matter what – ever." He looked up to see Reid shaking his head.
"I think the only mistake, Derek," he said, and Morgan couldn't describe the pleasure that hearing his fist name coming from that mouth elicited, "would be not trying it again." Spencer's lips tilted upward minimally, with anticipation, and bent towards Derek.
And that second time (and all the times after that), their kisses had been far longer than just an instant.
The insides of Morgan's body still purred with approval whenever he thought about that first night – their first of many since then. It always brought a smile to his face, and a flush to his body.
Morgan was ripped from his reverie (and appreciation for the fine specimen he called "lover") when said man shifted slightly in his arms, and tilted his head up, blinking sleepily.
"Mo – Morgan . . ?" he slurred slightly, stretching out the words and then his body, before digging himself deeper into Derek's embrace, savoring the additional body heat.
"You're back early."
Morgan smiled, and kissed the top of Reid's head. "Yeah, Pretty Boy, I'm home."
" . . . I would have waited up." Reid mumbled, his face still buried against Morgan's hard chest, breathing in and out with the other man.
"Too bad." Morgan scooped his partner closer, and pulled the blanket so that it covered them more. "All I got to do was watch you think and think about when we got together. Fell in love . . ."
He could feel Reid smile into his shoulder, and listened to the growing silence as the other man's hand reached up and pressed lightly against him, and his breathing slowed. But Reid still said nothing as his eyes began to drift closed and he was falling asleep in Morgan's arms.
Hopeful, but full of trepidation, Morgan tried again. "I love you, Spencer."
He knew that his boyfriend was still conscious, could tell by the way in which his fingers were drumming oh-so-softly against his chest . . . so it hurt when, still, there was nothing but quiet in the room to greet his sentiment.
Pure, uninterrupted, simple quiet. Nothing else.
Just like every other time.
Morgan knew how shy Reid was, how weird he could be about people and personal space. It was the reason that he never did more than hand-holding with the genius in public; it was why he hadn't yet asked the boy to move in with him (even though Derek Morgan already fully intended to be spending the rest of his life with Spencer Reid); it was the whole reason he didn't press Spencer to let them tell the team about their relationship. He held to patience, and always allowed Reid the room he needed, because, in how much he cared for the man, he got it. Really.
What he couldn't get – or get over, for that matter – was that, in all the months that he and Spencer had been seeing each other, had been sleeping and eating and dating together, had been in love . . . Well, that was just it.
Reid had never said those words to Morgan. That he loved him.
Derek said it all the time – as often as he could. But the man he was proclaiming his feelings to had never responded with more than a smile, a thank you, or the occasional embrace –that, even more occasionally, led back to the bedroom.
Morgan hated thinking about the fact that he was the only one whispering sweet nothings in their relationship – but, even more than that, he hated the bitter thoughts that came with thinking it over, and wondering just exactly why Reid hadn't said the words back to him yet. So, like every other time, Morgan bit back his feelings, settling for closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of frustration.
Spencer, still barely conscious, must have heard him, though, because his face scrunched up slightly, and he asked, softly, "What's wrong, Derek?"
"Nothing that wasn't wrong before." Morgan mumbled before he could stop himself. Reid jolted awake at those words, and turned to face his lover, a worried look on his face.
"What?"
Morgan cocked open one eye, and took in the sight of his frazzled boyfriend, staring at him with such concern and tenderness. "It's nothing, really, Reid."
"It is if you're not calling me 'Spencer,' Derek." Reid shot back, looking slightly alarmed now.
He's right about that . . . Morgan admitted, stilly eyeing the baffled young man. What the Hell, he thought, and decided to give honesty a chance.
"I just . . . I was wondering, Kid," he started, watching how Reid winced slightly at his more embarrassing moniker, "why don't you ever tell me that – that you love me?"
Reid looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Derek, you know that I do."
"Do I?"
"What?" Reid asked for the second time, sounding a lot more angry, and he pulled out of Morgan's arms, looking up at the other man, hurt traced in every line of his face. "How can you – how can you say that, Derek? How can you think that?"
Morgan shrugged. "I never said that I think it. I just wonder, Reid."
Forcing himself not to react again to the use of his surname, Spencer shook his head. "Well, then, how can you wonder about something like that, Derek? Why would you call into question my feelings for you?"
"I'm not," Morgan countered, slowly. "I know that you care about me, man – I care about you. I just have to consider whether or not, as you've never said it, that you love me."
Spencer's hand reached out, and lay against Derek's heart for just a moment, before slipping away as the other man retorted, "I didn't realize that something so obvious needed to be said, Derek."
"But that's just it! It's not obvious when you never say it to me, Reid. I love you, and I make sure that you know it, too! How the Hell am I supposed to know that you love me back when you can't even say the words?" Now he was getting agitated as a rush of pent-up feelings fought their way to the surface; and Reid was getting upset right along with him.
"You should know just because I do, Derek. For chrissakes, how could I not?" At Morgan's frown, Reid began spluttering, "I do, Morgan."
"Coulda fooled me."
At that, Reid snapped. "D-Derek, just – God!" He rotated his body so he was staring straight at the other man's face, and continued angrily. "I spend every single night with you – and most days, too! I learned about sports so that we could go to games and watch your stupid football together! I walk Clooney – even though I don't like dogs – constantly, I cook and clean and shower with you – I even do the anniversary thing!" Looking at his boyfriend, but not even seeing him, Reid finished, vehement, "What more could I possibly do to demonstrate how strongly I feel about you?!"
"Tell me that you love me." Morgan's reply was instant.
Reid shook his head, whispering, "No."
Morgan threw his hands up in frustration, and he made to get up from the bed. But he was stopped by long, slender fingers that grasped tightly onto his wrist for just a second before tugging away, and he looked at Spencer.
Reid's hand twitched slightly, and he spoke again in a rush, quiet. "I never tell anyone that."
Morgan leaned in. "What?"
Reid was staring at the sheets, his lips folded, and he shook his head slightly, whispering, "It's nothing, Derek."
Marveling slightly at how familiar a direction this conversation was taking, Morgan pressed further, no longer willing to end their evening in a fight. "Tell me."
When it didn't look at though Reid was going to, he added, softly, "Spencer."
Still not looking up, Reid's shoulder's slumped slightly as he took his time replying.
"I just . . . I never tell people that, Derek . . . that word . . ."
Irritated at his partner's lack of response, Morgan vented his frustration into cynicism.
"What, is it too tough for you, Reid?" The other man looked up sharply, but Derek continued, uncaring. "The word 'love' too difficult for the little genius to spit out? Too much trouble? It's real simple to say, Spencer – I do it all the time. Maybe I can show you. It's real easy, just a four-letter, one-breath word, man! L-O-V-E –"
"I am perfectly aware, Derek, of how to spell a monosyllabic term of endearment." Spencer snapped.
"Then what is it?!"
Reid still refused to raise his face to meet Derek's gaze, and instead spoke to his knees, all irritation dropping from his voice, as he sounded hollow, and upset.
"I – I can't say it, Derek. I haven't . . . ever."
Morgan waited, quiet and patient, his earlier intensity deflating a bit as he watched the man before him struggle not to break down.
"Everyone . . . I've never said it to people – b-because it's only been said to me by a few people, D-Derek. Just th-three. And . . . after they . . . after they said . . . that . . . it ruined everything." He looked up now, staring at the wall in front of them, a single tear carving it's way down his cheek. "Everything, Derek."
"How can love ruin something, Spencer?" Morgan moved his hand over Reid's, which jerked slightly before the genius calmed down again enough to speak.
"My dad was not . . . a very, ah, affectionate man." Reid sucked in a huge breath, and continued. "He didn't think that getting sappy was . . . well, he never did. But he always tucked me in at night, always made sure I was okay . . . but he never said that word to me." Reid interrupted himself by shaking his head. "Well, that's not true. One night, when I was nine, he did come in, and he sat on the edge of my bed, and he – he told me that . . . he said it. The next day, he left." Reid's voice turned hard and bitter by the end of the sentence, and Morgan reached out to try and comfort him, but Spencer shrugged away the touch, and continued, desperate to get it all out before he could lose his nerve.
"You already know about – about my mom. She wasn't like my father – she said that word all the time . . . used to sing a song about how it made the world go 'round . . . but, ah, . . . after my dad . . . left . . ." Reid trailed off for a second, swiping a hand futilely at his eyes to brush away the steady streams of leaking tears. "She never told me that again. It's like, when Dad proved that he didn't . . . when he was gone, she stopped saying it. She stopped singing, too."
"Spencer," Morgan spoke softly, his heart breaking a little at Spencer's words – but the other man cut him off again, saying his last words in a rush.
"A-And Gideon – he was the last one who ever – he called me his son, Morgan. His son. He told me that I was special to him, important . . . he told me he . . . you know. And it was just that once, but I thought that I had finally found someone who . . . who did . . . but, then . . ." Reid's trembling voice broke, and he was unable to continue.
And then he left, too, Derek completed in his head, and suddenly, he reached forward, enveloping the shaking young man in his arms and pulling him closer, wishing for all the world that they'd never gotten started down this path of conversation in the first place.
"Ssht, Spencer." He whispered, his chin resting on the top of the other man's head. "Ssh . . . I'm sorry."
Reid froze, and he looked up, meeting Derek's eyes. "N-no. Derek, please," he gulped, biting back a second flood of tears, "Please, . . . don't. You have nothing to be sorry for – I know it's stupid . . . I hate myself for not being able to tell you . . . but I can't, Derek. Every time I try to say that I – I –"
Reid choked slightly, and shook his head, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he reddened with shame. "I –"
His entire face crumpled, and Derek squeezed him in a comforting gesture that was completely lost on the other man. He waited a moment for the erratic breathing of Spencer Reid to slow down again before he spoke.
"It's okay, Spencer."
He felt his boyfriend shaking his head again, and Derek spoke louder, more confident. "No, Pretty Boy, don't do that. It's okay, I promise. I'm sorry I dragged it up like that . . . I should have been more . . . sensitive. Like you are." Reid's breath caught at that, and Morgan hastened to spit out the rest of what he had to say.
"I know we've been together for a year, Spencer . . . but feeling like this – caring about someone the way I do you . . . it's still so new for me, and I – I guess I just . . ." Morgan cleared his throat. "I don't know what I would do without you anymore. I love you."
He looked down – Reid's hand was fluttering over his chest. Again. He turned to Spencer, and, somewhat awkwardly, coughed.
"Uh, . . . Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" Reid, still emotional, sounded truly perplexed as he looked at his outstretched palm lying over Derek's heart. "Oh!" he gasped, pulling his hand back as quickly as if it had been burned. He blushed. "I'm s-sorry. Old habit. Wasn't, ah . . . wasn't thinking."
Morgan reached out, stopping Spencer's movement before the young man could curl his arms around his chest. Interlacing their fingers together, he summoned all the care he could into his face, and asked simply, "Tell me?"
Reid seemed to debate it for a moment, biting his lip uncertainly before speaking. "Ah, . . . when I was little, I read this – this study. Ab-about chemical reactions in the body to certain, ah, stimuli." He peeked up through the strands of hair in his face, and, seeing the compassion on his partner's face, reluctantly continued. "It s-said that when people say certain . . . things . . . our, uh, bodies . . . they react in a noticeably physical way. For instance, when someone says . . . says that, um, . . . our hearts are supposed to start pumping more rapidly, and our internal temperature is supposed to rise . . . it's the rush of hormones –"
"And?" Morgan interrupted softly, still clutching his lover's hand. "What does this mean?" He lifted their touching palms slightly.
"I just . . . I was . . . curious. I wanted to know if it was a valid study. So, . . . whenever my mom would say that to me, I'd – I'd feel her heart . . . t-to see if it was . . . if she meant it." Reid looked down as he finished.
"I guess it just became a, uh, . . . a habit. Every time I hear someone say that word, I want to . . . to feel their pulse, see of their breathing's changed . . . I want to know it's real."
Morgan could hear the shame in his voice, leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Reid's and closing his eyes as he figured out what to say.
"Spencer, . . ." The other man looked up, and Derek breathed in, speaking slowly.
"That's absolutely . . . beautiful. It is."
Reid lips, trembling, began to form a small smile.
"I just . . . God, I can't believe I never noticed. You've been telling me that you loved me all along . . ."
Spencer's lips pursed before he cut in. "I should have found a way to tell you, Derek. I just . . . it's so weak, trying to make as much out of your life as you can, and then being tripped up by something as simple as a four-letter word. It's pathetic."
"No," Derek shook hi head, "it's not pathetic, Spencer. Don't you ever think that! This whole time, you've felt the exact same, but you – you found a different way to tell me. A special way." He leaned down, kissing his fingers as he smiled at his boyfriend.
"I never thought of it like that." Reid pouted slightly, protesting. "I just, . . . I never could find the words to say it." He met Morgan's gaze, his eyes shining as he tried, for the first time in a long, long time, to actually lend his fantastic voice to his extraordinary feelings.
"Derek . . . you're my everything. My one and only. My shining light, my saving grace . . . my beginning, and my end. You're the whole reason I can't sleep in in the morning anymore . . . because I can't wait to be with you . . . And when I go to sleep at night, all I wish for is to see you in my dreams . . . You keep my heart warm, and my body and soul . . . every time I think about you, I feel alive . . . like life could never get better. And the thought of you not being here, of leaving or getting lost . . . it doesn't paralyze me; it destroys me."
Morgan watched, touched, tearing up, as Reid finished.
"I know I can't – I c-can't even begin to – but I do, Morgan. I do. You're the catch 22 for me. Alpha to my Omega. Yin to yang . . . Everything."
As he said this, Reid was slowly, unconsciously tracing his fingers over Morgan's heart, spelling out the letters L, O, V, and E, over and over and over again, frantic in his desperation to convey to the other man just how much he meant to him.
Morgan's breath caught in his throat, and he leaned in again, this time dipping his head until he was eye-level with the earnest, beautiful man before him.
"I know you do, Pretty Boy. And, hey," he waited until he was staring Spencer full-on in those lovely, wide hazel eyes to whisper softly, "I love you, too."
Spencer's fingers drummed ever so softly against his chest, and Morgan hoped that he felt the way his heart sped up with those words – hoped he knew just how very deeply the feelings were engrained into his body, into his very being.
Reid smiled shakily at him, and Morgan blasted a warm grin back.
And both men leaned in simultaneously for another one of those sweet, long, loving kisses.
"Love is always bestowed as a gift – freely, willingly, and without expectation. We don't love to be loved, we love to love."
– Leo Buscaglia