Chapter 9 - I'm so sorry for the wait, you guys. My life has been so fucked up this past week. I didn't mean to get so behind on my writing, I tried to thrown in some steamy moments/fluff/drama to make up for it.

Spencer and Morgan head to the showers after yard time, each desperately worried on how today's events would go. The first thing that has Reid's heart sinking is that Fuentes is in their new shower group. The next thing is that Yates is too.

"What fun this will be," Morgan sighs, noticing the two men just as quickly as Reid had.

"Shit." Reid agrees. They go through the same procedure as the day before, humiliatingly stripping off and entering the square of steam, water, and naked bodies. Reid follows Morgan, eyes locked only on his coworker's tense shoulders. He's determined to keep his eyes high and avoid all eye contact. Reid wants to avoid both Fuentes and Yates, needing sometime to be privately naked, or at least as private as he can get.

Morgan claims a middle hose, taking a bar of soap, and quickly washing himself. Spencer grabs a bottle of generic shampoo on the ledge and scrubs it into his scalp though the task isn't an easy one. His wrist is throbbing and his other hand just isn't doing the job well enough.

"Let me help you out." A voice says from behind him. It's low and calm, resulting in a rapid heartbeat for the young genius.

"Max- you don't have to."

"I want to." He promises. The convict stays behind Reid, close enough to feel his radiating body heat but not close enough to feel his skin. When the hands scrub at his scalp, Reid's eyes glance up to where Morgan is. The agent is facing the wall, water dripping down over his stony expression. His jaw is set in an uncomfortable way and his muscles are coiled impossibly tight.

Spencer very badly wants to reach out and tell Morgan that nothings wrong, he shouldn't be so upset, but he realizes how in the pit of his stomach, everything is wrong. Reid's homesick, to say the least. He's thirsty for coffee and starving for Garcia's cookies. He wants his occasional hug from JJ and little smile from Emily. The Bureau is his home, yet his home is pushing him to be in this little room with dangerous men. Very naked, perverted, dangerous men.

"You enjoying this, Spencer?" Max asks, his voice a low hiss in Reid's ear. The breath so close to his face sparks a small shiver to run through his body. He can't even respond, he's so out of his element. Being naked with Max, Morgan, and Fuentes in the same room is terrifying and electric at the same time.

Before Reid regains himself, he's spun around and pushed back into the water's spray. It's lukewarm, gently dripping down his body. Max pushed him far enough that they're both under the jet. The water is dripping out of curls and trailing down to his chin. Reid didn't exactly mean for his eyes to land upon Max's lips but they did. The man definitely noticed because those plump lips are pressed against Reid's just seconds later.

Reid's mouth is forced open and a soft, warm object is thrusted into his mouth. The tongue licks inside the doctor's mouth, claiming each and every crevice as it's own. Two big hands curl in Reid's hair, harmlessly rubbing the shampoo out as they kiss. It's so good that for a moment the homesickness, fear, and sadness that had settled into his heart vanish. But reality whooshes back in, bringing a swift reminder of the friend standing next to the couple.

Spencer pushes Max back and smiles to not hurt the man's feelings, his eyes searching out Morgan's immediately afterwards. Morgan isn't watching though- he's turned his back completely, lightly talking to the man beside them.

"Time's up, ladies!" A guard calls from the doors. The men start lining up at the exit and drying off. Max's hand slips into Spencer's before he pulls them along with the others. Fuentes's eyes meet Spencer's and the set of orbs hold something Spencer has seen plenty of times in his field of work- interest. The kind that leads to obsession. The kind that leads to fatalities.

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"Was it good at least, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asks back in the confines of their cell. The agent had crawled up on his bunk once they got back and sighed with contentment at being there.

"I guess." Reid answers nonchalantly. He's actually replaying the feeling of Max's kiss over and over again in his head, never wanting to forget it. He can still feel the tongue in his mouth, the hands on his scalp, and the light breath on his face.

Morgan snorts light-heartedly and Reid gently makes his way into his bunk. The adrenaline from the kiss has left him so drunken that when the buzzer for dinner goes off, Spencer doesn't bother getting up. Morgan goes without him, not giving a second glance. The man's demeanor is one that Reid can't describe other than saying it's one of absence. The older man seems to be too deep in his mind, his body moving fluidly as if the routine has been carved out in his mind.

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He's being slammed against a wall, scalding water splashing down his body.

"No'ody to stop me now, is 'ere?" A crude voice says.

The danger, the UnSubs (as Reid's mind automatically characterizes), is just a mere arm length away, hands in fists. The sight of the mermaid tattoo should clue the doctor into what to expect, but his mind is blank.

Fuentes turns Reid around, his fingers digging into the flesh of Reid's naked hips so hard he's sure a bruise will be forming soon. The tile wall against Reid's face burns like a lighted firework against skin.

Reid wants to scream for Morgan but his voice is locked away into his throat, the padlock not seeming to have a key for the shout to escape.

Something hard is pressing against Spencer's lower back. The feeling springs tears to the doctor's eyes and inconceivable fear to his heart.

"SPENCER."

The voice has the doctor sitting up so fast that his forehead cracks off the bunk above him. He groans, falling back down, tears streaming down his face from the traces the dream left behind.

Two strong, soothing hands pull Reid from the bunk and set him down on the ground. Morgan's arms are around him soon after, one just holding onto his frail body while the other tries massaging the pain away from Reid's head.

"Shhh, it's okay, kid. Calm down. It's all okay." Morgan says.

Reid tries hard to push away the dream of Fuentes assaulting him in the showers, wishing he could tell himself it was just a dream. But it wasn't- not exactly. Fuentes has every opportunity to hurt him, a man did assault him in the showers, and Morgan won't always be there to protect him. Prison has stripped what dignity and safety Reid had and has thrown him into a seemingly never ending life of bars, bad food, scary men, and violation.

Reid's knees automatically curl up to his chest to protect himself further as he leans into Morgan. The young doctor opens his eyes and they go straight into the cell across the hall.

In that cell is a man that watches the two agents on the floor, his eyes gleaming like black coals that had just been lit. Fuentes isn't just a ghost enforcing fear, he's real. Very real.

"Don't look at him, kid." Morgan whispers. Reid rests his head back on Morgan's shoulder and closes his eyes. "It's just you and me now, okay?" Exhaustion is taking it's toll. It's not the physical kind of tiredness, it's the mental kind. The type one gets from visiting Hell and finding their way back.

As his mind drifts off, a warm sensation is on Reid's cheek, followed by a light breath before it's gone.

The young doctor would swear on any other day of his life that no, his best friend did not just kiss him. But today- he can't be sure of anything.
And when he wakes up the next day, still sprawled out on Morgan the genius still clueless. The safety in his heart at the warm body next to him puts a stop to all his rationalizing. Morgan's face is resting gently against Reid's head his breath even enough to rustle his hair.

For the sake of fueling his streak of utter impulsive tendencies, Reid lightly rolls his face upwards until his mouth is at the corner of Morgan's. He presses his lips to the other mans as softly as he can, relishing in the smooth skin.

The poor young doctor is unaware of the eyes that have stayed awake, watching him all night long, from straight across the hall.