It started this morning.
It wasn't a sore throat, because this morning, Spencer's voice was the norm for him. Honey edged tones with a hint of upper class glittering through, all delivered in smooth, soft speech patterns that had a tendency to have a lecturing edge.
His voice was lilting, hesitant, all-round perfect if you happened to ask Morgan, which no one did incidentally. Not surprising, a voice is kind of an odd thing to obsess over.
Spencer's voice was just so constant, the same exact tone, speech patterns, average use of pronouns. It was around him all of the time. Even in the rare escapes they had from the office, Spencer Reid's voice was still rang in Derek Morgan's ear.
And it was so constant, so ever-present, that eventually it was just too easy to disguise the thrill he got from every word that leaked out from Spencer's perfect lips.
When you hear a voice so often that it becomes permanently ingrained in your conscience, every half-hearted poke at fun becomes a little easier to form.
He had to make those jokes. He had to mock the constant stream of statistics that tumbled from the other man's mouth, the overly-developed explanations of his thought processes which went right back to what he was thinking about at the time to trigger that particular train of thought.
Spencer wouldn't get it. But by god, if there was ever a time he wanted to explain it most, it would be when the flash of hurt whispered across Spencer's whiskey coloured eyes following every exchange.
It started this morning, when they were still in the first half of the am, when everyone had dark circles and were swigging coffee as though their life depended on it.
He remembers specifically, because Spencer was late this morning, really late, so late that he missed his normal dose of coffee and spent the entire plane ride complaining about it.
By the time they got there, they had to jump right in, and the entire day, for Spencer especially, was a complete frenzy.
They'd landed at around five in the morning, and around six in the evening, Spencer's voice had began to crack.
And that's when Derek realised that Spencer hadn't taken one drink in the entire day that they'd been there.
Naturally, he was concerned.
He'd been ready to go and fetch the kid some water himself, he was that concerned, and if Reid hadn't chosen that exact moment to rush over, he would have.
But the kid started to talk, his mind moving so fast his lips could barely keep up.
His eyes were alight, but his voice…
His voice was cracking.
Derek hadn't realised it was possible to speak in a softer tone that Spencer usually verbalised, but apparently so.
Because his voice was softer, like it hurt to strain his vocal chords. And it kept breaking the slightest little bit in the middle of long sentences.
It was lower, too. Rougher. If Spencer's voice was usually a whine, the way he sounded now was more like a breathless growl.
Derek could handle listening to Spencer Reid, day in, day out, whilst simultaneously resisting the urge to smash their lips together.
He'd had practice. But this voice…this was almost too much, and Derek had to grip the side of the table he was leant on, to prevent him from leaping over Rossi and tearing Spencer's clothes off right there.
He wanted to get the poor kid a drink, he really did. But Spencer just kept talking, and something about his voice was really turning Derek on.
He spent two hours drowning in this decidedly delightful discovery, before Spencer's voice became more of a rasp and began to fade a little bit.
At that, his moral side won over the side of him that wanted to shove Reid against a wall and trace patterns on his neck, and he grabbed a bottle from under the desk.
"Hey Reid! You need a drink, man?" he called, tossing the bottle over when he saw Spencer turn.
Spencer almost missed the bottle, managing to awkwardly nab it just in time, and, reddening at Derek's smirk, unscrewed the top and took a sip.
Realisation of just how thirsty he actually was dawned on Spencer when the first drop hit his throat, and Derek watched him down the entire bottle in less than thirty seconds, adam's apple bobbing feverishly.
Spencer threw the empty bottle aside, meeting Derek's gaze and smiling gratefully.
"Thanks, Morgan." he called back, his voice still rough as Derek's name fell from his lips.
That was pretty much Derek's breaking point.
"I need to talk to you." he said lowly, grabbing Spencer's wrist and practically dragging him halfway across the room before he could open his mouth.
"What's up?" he asked, once they were clear of the room, head tilted a tiny little bit, one eyebrow quirked.
Derek answered his question by slamming their lips together.
Spencer's mouth opened in shock, and Derek took full advantage of that, pushing him right against the wall, locking one hand in Spencer's hair and pushing his tongue into the other man's mouth.
He heard a low groan, felt the kiss being steadily returned, one hand slipping down his back and grabbing his backside.
Spencer shoved him away at that point, hurriedly straightening out his clothes, just as two police officers walked straight past.
Derek hadn't even heard them.
"Damn kid." Derek muttered, and the corner of Reid's mouth pulled up into a half-smile, lips kiss-swollen, hair mussed, and eyes heavy-lidded and practically smouldering with lust.
"So where were we?" he murmured, and pulled Derek back to his lips without waiting for a response.
A/N: so this is my first attempt at a Criminal Minds fic, please don't flame it, just let me know what you think?