"An obsession is a way for damaged people to damage themselves more." - Mark Barrowcliffe

Morgan felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest at the sight of Reid in his living room when he got home, the man having used the key he'd been gifted to get in. The feeling was slightly dampened when he noted how concerned Reid looked.

"Baby?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Reid said evenly, and then patted the couch beside him awkwardly.

"What?" Morgan cocked an eyebrow and joined him, leaning back into the comfortable leather and flicking off his boots as Clooney came over to nuzzle at Reid's hands and try to make him stroke him.

"You should have told someone. Especially me."

Morgan gave him a curious look, running a hand over the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Spencer, I'm not sure what you're on about."

It was Reid's turn to look curious, as he pulled a red envelope out from behind him on the sofa.

"These."

"Oh," Morgan grinned, swiping it off him. It hadn't been sealed shut like the others, and the bubble of excitement in his chest distracted him from Reid's utterly confused expression. He glanced at the hand written note, grazing his thumb over the sharp italic scrawl.

"You're so close," he read, "but I miss you so much it hurts."

He grinned and leant into Reid's space, surprised when the man moved away from the kiss aimed at his mouth, looking just shy of horrified.

"Spencer, don't worry, I think it's cute you leave these for me."

"No, no, Derek," Reid said quickly, "that's just it; I didn't write these. I found your draw of them, and then this one pushed under the door. I didn't write any of them."

"You... what?" Morgan's throat had suddenly gone dry. "But this is your handwriting."

"It's not." Reid shook his head. "It's very similar, but there are variances on the way the two samples write 'a's and curve the 'g's."

Morgan jumped up, dashing through into his office and practically tore out the draw from his desk; inside were almost fifty notes in red envelopes.

"Derek," Reid asked from the doorway, "how long have you been getting these?"

"A year." He muttered. "Since we... but these are from you." He shook his head, disbelieving.

"They're not."

Morgan picked up an envelope and then dropped it back into the draw with a muttered curse.

"Hotch," Reid had his phone to his ear when Morgan turned to look at him, "we have a problem."

Morgan stared at the board, almost filled with the forty-eight notes pinned up in chronological order that Morgan had had to spend hours trying to remember. It was not the way he had imagined announcing his relationship with Reid to the team, but it was little surprise that they all knew and were just waiting for them to come out as a couple.

I think about you all the time.

I can't wait until we're together again.

You are the moon in my sky.

Morgan let out a frustrated groan, head in hands. He should have known Reid didn't write them, but he'd thought he was using them as a way of expressing himself romantically, something he didn't have much experience doing before his relationship with Morgan. They didn't sound like Reid, but Morgan thought that had been the point.

I want to give you everything.

I knew we were soul mates the first time we met.

I love you.

He remembered bitterly receiving the last one. Neither of them had said it aloud at that point, and after finding the note pushed under his door, that night he had told Reid he loved him. Reid had been surprised and told him he loved him too, and he'd thought it was surprise that Morgan was ready to say it, but now it was clear it was surprise it was said at all. It didn't make their feelings untrue, but he hated the idea that their relationship had been manipulated.

I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you.

I'm all you need.

Nobody can stand in the way of what we have.

Fingertips brushed the back of his neck, he recognised them so he leant back into the contact. A reassuring hand ran down over his shoulder, and he felt Reid's lips graze the top of his head. It still made him incredibly proud that Reid initiated contact with him more than anyone else, growing increasingly tactile over the months they'd been together. The gentle, meaningful touch in public was significant to both of them, without the need to verbally clarify.

The thought of anyone else touching you makes me so angry I feel like I'll explode.

Nobody feels about you the way I do.

Nothing can come between us. No one.

"We should break up." Morgan murmured. Against him, Reid tensed.

"What?" he said, clearly trying to keep his voice even. Morgan sighed, pushing himself up from the table and turning to face his lover.

"We're over." He said, locking eyes with Reid even though the sentiment hurt.

"No." The genius returned defiantly.

"Have you read these, Spencer?" he gestured at the board. "I think I'm putting you in danger."

"You're not doing anything. This isn't your fault. Whoever is doing this is the one at fault."

"But you're in danger all the same."

"Actually, stalkers seldom-"

"Stalkers are seldom this fixated." He interrupted. "You know it's loaded language, even for a stalker. These are threats. Against you."

"Derek," he said firmly, arms crossed over his chest, "I may need to stop coming over to draw the unsub out, make it appear we're no longer involved, but we are not ending our relationship."

"I am not putting you at risk." he countered.

"My job puts me at risk every day. And it's worth it, because of the results we get. Being with you is worth the risk, Derek, just as much as the job risk."

He moved quickly, wrapping his arms around Morgan's chest, and before he could think about it the older man was moulding into the contact, arms across Reid's back and his mouth buried around the crook of his neck.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He murmured.

"We'll catch them." Reid reassured softly. "That's what we do, right?"

Morgan pulled the man's body tighter against him.

"I desire to be with you. I miss you. I feel lonely when I can't see you. I am obsessed with you, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. I hunger for your taste, your smell, the feel of your soul touching mine." - Jack Llawayllynn