"If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll probably never do much of anything." - Win Borden
"I'm not going to freak out if you touch it." Spencer said, looking at Morgan through his glasses over the top of his book. It was a lazy Sunday morning, and both of them were reading in the warm sunlight filtering into the room. Derek had been eyeing his naked torso for some time, looking at the tiny swell there. It was noticeable on his slim frame without clothes, but with them, not baggy but not tight, there was no sign of his pregnancy. Spencer knew Derek had been avoiding focusing on his belly and he had appreciated that while he adjusted to the decision to keep it, to the slight swell of his abdomen, but now he thought he was ready.
Spencer closed his book, putting it to the side and settling back against the pillows arranged against the headboard. Derek had already abandoned his, and was smiling a little nervously. Spencer nodded, and the other man stretched his fingers out to touch Spencer's belly. The skin was warm, and as he added pressure he noticed the bump was firm. Slowly he spread his fingers out until his hand was splayed on the tiny bump of his husband's belly, and he caught his eye and couldn't stop the grin that spread across his features.
"Week nine," he said, "what's happening?"
"Well this week it officially became a fetus." Reid said. "It's around two inches long," he couldn't help but smile as he saw Morgan estimate the length between thumb and finger, "the ventral and dorsal pancreatic buds will have fused. The fetus' eyelids have fused, and they won't separate for around twenty weeks." Morgan made an interested face, so Reid elaborated. "It's to protect the eyes so they can develop. Did you know the eye only grows around six millimetres in diameter from infancy? Mammalian infants have large eyes comparative to their head size, it's an evolutionary advantage for successful young raising. We have an innate propensity to react to those features with nurturing behaviours."
"So babies are cute so we'll want to look after them." Morgan summarised. "Makes sense. What else?"
"The liver is beginning to produce red blood cells. The genitals, assuming they're developing normally, are distinct now."
"So it's a boy or a girl now?"
"Actually, sex is determined at conception." Spencer corrected. "Genetically. Although genitals don't always develop in accordance to chromosomes, and gender identity is an entirely constructed concept, so-" Morgan looked suddenly worried, which made Spencer chuckle. He reached out and stroked the man's cheek, feeling his husband's hand subtly pressing his belly. "It's statistically likely that our offspring will have normal sexual characteristics."
"Okay." He sounded, still a little unsure. He wriggled a bit, getting comfortable on his side, stroking his fingers over Reid's bump. "Hey, if its only two inches long, how come you're showing?"
"My uterus is started to expand, and then there's general bloating, water retention and gas."
"I wasn't going to say anything..." Derek teased, and Reid swatted his cheek playfully.
"It's not that bad yet." He huffed playfully.
"I don't care how gassy you get." Morgan lent in to kiss the tip of Reid's nose. "I love you."
"I love you too." Reid put a quick kiss on Derek's lips.
"But there's only one of me." he said, winking at his husband.
"We need to tell Hotch." Derek said, holding Clooney's lead in one hand and Spencer's hand in the other. They were headed to meet Garcia for brunch, at which Spencer had already approved Morgan's desire to tell their closest friend their news. The July weather was pleasant, and meant they were dressed accordingly; Morgan in knee-length grey cargo pants and a white t-shirt, with robust black flip-flop shoes and his favourite sunglasses, Reid in loose navy slacks and a loose-fitting white dress shirt that hid his very slight bump, sleeves rolled up and sunglasses on.
"I know." Reid said, glad for a slight breeze to counter the warmth of the sunshine.
"Soon."
"As soon as Hotch knows, the rest of the team will find out." Spencer pointed out.
"I know." Morgan squeezed the other's hand. "But I spent the entire time on that last case worrying that he was going to send you somewhere you'd have to put on your Kevlar and run about, or get beat up by an unsub as you tend to do."
Spencer barged his husband with his shoulder firmly, feigning annoyance. Morgan tried to keep a straight face and failed.
"I'm not that bad."
"You got clocked in the back of the head two weeks ago, remember?" Morgan reminded him, then, "Clooney!" the dog was pulling on the lead, trying to walk beside Spencer. "Will you take him?"
Reid took the leash in the hand that had been in his pocket, watching as Clooney calmed, falling into step beside Spencer and seeming to deliberately put himself between his master and anyone passing them on the street.
"He knows." Morgan said, smiling. "Smart dog."
"Actually, I don't think him being able to perceive pregnancy in what he considers a pack member is rooted in intelligence." Spencer said. "The perception of intelligence, really. It's ridiculous to try to apply IQ measurements to canines, more ridiculous than applying IQ tests universally. There are clear cultural biases which give false indications of the range of results, and how this is applied to race, gender, and socio-economic groups."
"So I guess he can just tell from hormones? Smell?"
"There's no conclusive proof of that, but it seems likely. There's also visual clues in body language and behaviour, things so miniscule humans don't detect them. Even profilers."
Garcia, already waiting at an outside table at the café, looked wonderful as she greeted them, wearing a cinched-in white, green and pink striped sundress that showed off her ample cleavage and reminded Spencer of watermelon, a green bolero jacket and a pair of strappy pink sandal heels.
"Good morning my doves!" she said happily, blonde ringlets bouncing around her head as she greeted them with kisses on the cheek. Clooney barked excitedly at her, and she didn't forget him in her greeting. "Hello little puppy!" she cooed, bending down to stroke and fuss him.
They sat, Reid removing his sunglasses and hooking one long leg over the other, his hands curling over Morgan's where it settled on his leg. He wasn't a tactile person in the way Morgan was; Morgan touched people to assure them, to show his ease with them. It was important that he was, considering how easy it would have been for him to withdraw from contact after what had happened to him as a teen. Spencer, however, had never been someone who actively sought contact. He didn't mind people he trusted initiating it, such as the team, but it never occurred to him to do so. Morgan was the exception; he loved to touch Morgan, loved it initiate it and maintain it and hated ending contact between them. It had taken some time at the start of their relationship for him to get comfortable doing so, while they were still worried about their growing feelings and the risk to their jobs; thankfully, things had turned out better than they could imagine.
"Coffee?" Garcia asked, glancing around for waiting staff.
"Yeah." Morgan nodded, taking off his shades and hooking them onto the front of his t-shirt.
"Decaf." Reid specified, and Penelope frowned.
"Decaf? Where's my junior G, and what have you done with him?" she teased.
Spencer looked sideways at his husband, giving an almost unperceivable nod.
"Spence can only have one cup of regular coffee a day now." Morgan said. Garcia's face creased in concern.
"Why? You can't be allergic to caffeine, can you?"
"Actually you can be. Caffeine allergy reactions can mimic symptoms of mental illness, and doctors have misdiagnosed-" he stopped, because Garcia still looked worried. "I'm not allergic to caffeine."
"Then-" she looked Reid up and down, and then across to Morgan, who was smiling easily. They could both see her trying to wrack her brain for possible reasons not to drink coffee, looking less worried and more confused, until her face broke out in surprise.
"Reid, are you pregs?"
The grin that creased Morgan's face was her answer, and as Spencer expected she would, she squealed.
"Oh my god!" she flapped her hands, grinning happily. "Oh my god! Congrats, my doves! Oh, my boys." She gave them an adoring look. "I'm so happy for you! How far gone are you? How long have you known?"
"Almost ten weeks. I've known for about four weeks, and Derek since I was in the hospital. " Reid said, smiling even though he didn't know why Garcia's reaction was making him feel proud; it wasn't as if getting pregnant was an achievement that required any real skill.
"Have you been for a scan?"
"Not yet." Morgan said. "We go at twelve weeks, right, baby boy?"
"Yeah." Spencer said, stroking the knuckles of the dark hand on his leg.
The waiter came over and they ordered their drinks and food, and Garcia was too excited about the news she'd heard to notice the way the server's eyes kept dropping to her cleavage. Or perhaps she did, because Morgan had to hide a chuckle when he noticed her pressing her arms together subtly, pushing her already ample chest up as she requested cream on her iced coffee drink.
"Does Hotch know?" she asked, turning back to them.
"Not yet." Morgan shrugged. "We'll tell him Monday, right?" Spencer nodded.
"If you could not say anything until then..." Reid started, but Garcia hushed him.
"Of course, silly." She said. "I will say not a word until you give the green light. Then I'm going to get crazy busy preparing the world for that beautiful interracial mini badass genius."
Both the men laughed, and Morgan leaned over to kiss Spencer's cheek.
"You're going to be such great parents." Garcia cooed as she watched her friends exchanging a small smile in the sunlight.
"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." – Lao Tzu