Words: 525
Only slash if you look for it. This is dedicated to everyone who listens to me ran about Criminal Minds, even if they have no clue what it is.
Garcia opened the door to Hall's office with a slightly shy, yet proud, look on her face. Morgan stepped though, questioning. His eyebrows raised further when he saw Reid, slumped forward in the chair, his head resting against his hands on the desk, crutches on the floor behind him.
"Wait," Morgan held out a hand to Garcia, stopping her explanation, and stepped next to the young agent. "Boo!"
Reid sprang up, hitting the top of his head on Morgan's chin, causing both of them to yelp and Garcia to giggle. "Whozzat?"
"It's me, Reid," Morgan answered, stiffling a chuckle at the affronted look on his face. "Garcia's here, too."
"Right," Reid shook himself to full consciousness and sat up straighter in the chair, causing Morgan to turn his gaze to Garcia.
"What's going on?" he asked, and Garcia tottered forward to answer.
"Welcome to your office," she replied, gesturing around with a braceleted hand.
"This is Hall's office," Morgan corrected.
"That's not exactly true," Garcia corrected. "He's retiring in a month, and finishing his caseload at home. While you were away, I pulled some strings."
"You mean. . ." Morgan trailed away, his meaning clear without the words.
"It's yours," Reid chipped in.
"I wanted it to be a bit more. . . rargh!" Garcia waved her hands around for emphasis. "But Reid reminded me of Agency policy."
"Relax Baby Girl," Morgan laughed at the pout on her face as Reid looked apologetic.
"But we did give you a secret fun corner!" Garcia reminded, and ran around the desk to open a drawer. "Look!"
Morgan did, and saw a slinky, several figurines—some of which were from Doctor Who, which he knew both Reid and Garcia loved—and a rubber worm. Reid reached into it after Garcia, taking out a framed picture and placing it next to the metal dog toy that she put onto the table.
"What's that?" Morgan wondered, leaning closer to the picture to see what it was.
"It's so you always have company," Garcia smiled, and she looked up at Morgan with Reid.
"It's. . . us," Morgan picked up the silver frame, examining the photographs. "Where did you get this?"
"I dug," Garcia indicated one of the pictures. "Reid gave me the other ones."
"Like you mind," Reid brushed a hair out of his face to occupy himself when he talked, but Morgan didn't look offended.
"Thank you," Morgan smiled as he grasped Garcia's hand, then Reid's, "And you."
The frame was of medium size, three pictures overlapping in the middle of it. The first was of a young Morgan with his family, the one that had to be 'dug' for. The second was of the team together, complete with Prentiss and Rossi. They were at the bullpen, the photo taken in happier and easier times. The last was of the three of them—Morgan, Reid, and Garcia—at the latter's apartment. They were smiling at the camera, most likely more than a little drunk.
"I'll leave you to it," Garcia grinned at the look that passed between Reid and Morgan, then backed out of the office. "Mark your territory."