Nobody thought to tell the kid that the eggnog was spiked. Derek is willing to bet money on that, because if they had, he wouldn't currently be swaying in front of Derek with his eyes half lidded and his cheeks flushed, babbling on about something so obscure and sciencey that he isn't even sure Reid's speaking English. Derek glances as the almost empty cup in Reid's hand and wonders exactly how much he's had. When the kid stumbles forward to put an arm around his shoulders and earnestly tells him that "out of the infinite number of possible universes I could have found myself conscious of rational thought in, I'm glad it's this one, because you're here", Derek knocks back the rest of his drink, because he knows that he hasn't had enough to deal with this yet.
JJ starts making polite suggestions to people about getting the hell out of her house a little after midnight, by which time the kid has been literally clinging to him for the better part of an hour. Somewhere in his crazy genealogy, there must be at least one octopus, because no amount of coaxing or pulling is making any difference on his grip. JJ acts sympathetic when Derek bobs his head toward Reid and shrugs in a 'What do I do with him?' sort of way, but she can't quite hide the amusement in her eyes and it doesn't stop her from throwing them out into the snow. Derek somehow manages to peel Reid off of him long enough to load him into the car, and works a holiday miracle by keeping him coherent long enough to get directions to his apartment.
He propels Reid up stairs and down hallways until they're at his door, takes his keys to unlock the door after the kid drops them the fourth time, and steers him into the living room to deposit him on the couch. Or at least that was the plan. Instead, when he nudges Reid toward the couch, the kid's vice-like grip on him tightens even more and he ends up tumbling down next to him. Derek frowns and tries to pull away, but Reid just slides right along after him.
"Look, kid, I know we're friends and all, but you're really starting to push the limits here. I need you to let me leave so you can go sleep this off, okay?"
Reid has his face buried in his chest and Derek feels more than sees him shake his head. "I don't want to sleep and I really don't want to be friends," he says petulantly. "I hate being your friend."
Derek goes rigid and feels cold shoot through his veins. He can't deal with this. He's worked too long and too hard to keep things easy and simple and platonic between them for Reid to fuck it up now on a drunken whim.
"You don't mean that. Come on, Reid, it's time to go to bed." Derek instantly realizes that that was probably a poor choice of words when Reid climbs into his lap and kisses him.
It's not the best kiss Derek's ever been part of. It's greedy and wet, and their teeth clink together when Reid keeps pushing closer, like he's trying to physically crawl inside of him. Derek tries to remind himself that this is a bad idea, that Reid's drunk and he's not much better, but it's hard to remember exactly why all that matters when Reid's sucking on his tongue in a way that makes Derek think about Reid's hot, wet mouth sucking on other parts of his anatomy. Derek turns his head to the side, breaking the kiss, and gulps air in huge mouthfuls, a little surprised to realize his hands are on Reid's slim hips and even more surprised to realize that Reid's hands are deftly undoing his belt.
"No," Derek says firmly, but Reid seems more interested in biting his jaw and tugging the belt out of its loops to listen. Derek has fantasized about all the different noises that he might be able to coax out of Reid, but when the other man scrapes his nails down his back and sucks hard on his neck, Derek's the one who lets out a small whimper.
Derek flips them so that Reid is stretched out beneath him on the couch and grabs his wrists in one hand, gentle but restraining. Reid growls, a low, sexy rumble that shoots straight through him to his groin, and arches up so that the whole long, angular length of his body is flush against him. Derek drops his face into the curve of Reid's neck and groans. "Fuck, pretty boy, you're making it really hard to do the right thing here."
Reid huffs a short, breathless laugh and nips Derek's earlobe. "Good. Hard is good."
And Derek knows he's in trouble, because bad puns shouldn't be making his pulse jump. Although the jumping pulse could partially be because of the way Reid's legs are wrapped around him. Derek pushes up on his free arm, but those long legs pull him closer. "I'm serious, Reid. We can't do this."
Reid whines and rolls his hips against Derek's so that he feels exactly how much Reid really does want to do this. "Why not? You always go home with all those women. Pretend I'm one of them. Use me. I don't care, I just want you."
Derek's gut clenches in lust and disgust, and he sits up, tries to put a little more distance between them. "I don't want to 'use you'. And it matters, okay? Christ," Derek says, taking in Reid's hazy, unfocused gaze. "You aren't even going to remember this in the morning."
Reid wets his lips and strains to close the space between them. "Morgan," he pleads.
"No." Derek pushes and stands at the same time, leaving Reid sprawled on his back on the couch, looking far too rumpled and tempting for him to stay any longer without doing something even more stupid than what he's already done.
By the time Reid has pulled himself together enough to sit back up, Derek's out the door and halfway down the hall, thinking about everything from case files to old football plays in a desperate attempt to distract himself from what he's leaving behind.
Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing. ~ Herman Broch
It's May and I'm writing Christmastime stories. Really, brain? Really?
I'm really not all that comfortable writing 'sexy', so I'm trying to remedy that by practicing more.
Feedback is always appreciated.