Author's Note: You know what's not a good idea? Getting up at five to type fanfiction, going to work until late afternoon, taking a final, working AGAIN until midnight, getting together with friends to eat Micky-Dee's and alphabetize DVD's at Walmart, going BACK home, watching crappy Transformers movies until 6 in the a.m., and then going BACK to work.

Sleep? Psssht. I'm running on fumes. And barely so.

But, way back before I started boring myself to sleep, I DID manage to get another chapter going. So far, guys, I'm not overall displeased with this fic; it's not a prize winner, but I'm enjoying it quite a bit. We're getting to the crux of the matter, and then some sort of happy resolution or something . . . I dunno. I really just want more angst, and I can't find any m-pregs that are action-y enough. *Sighs* I need help.

Anyhoooooo . . . thanks a squillion for all of the kindly words and reviews and favs and follows and your general AMAZINGNESS that keeps me smiling forever and ever as I continue to perpetuate my existence on this site with more Criminal Minds tripe. To quote that old song, well . . . You make me so very happy. *Smiles*

Warnings: This fic contains no relevant spoilers that I can see. However, there is going to be some mild violence, much language, and angst as far as the eye can see. And, for that matter, prepare yourselves for a little OOC-ness. I guess.

Disclaimer: The amount of stuff I own grows ever larger and more terrifying. But anything resembling Criminal Minds as a whole has yet to be found. Stupid CBS with their 'rights' and 'contracts.' Grr.

I love reading reviews, but I know people hate writing them. The decision, my lovelies, is yours.

Do enjoy!

Chapter Four:

Right Now

As the hours-hand on the clock came closer and closer to striking nine, the BAU was slowly coming to life. More than half of all the team agents had arrived, and the breakroom was full to bursting with people laughing and talking, the sound of end-of-the-week pumped conversation and the smell of multiple pots of hot coffee being brewed.

Through it all, Spencer Reid had barely looked up from his stack of files, determined to keep everything quiet and close to home that day. All he wanted was to get through this Friday, and then head straight to his apartment so he could get some sleep and chew things over.

Because right then, Reid felt like his head was going to collapse from all of the things he had to think about. Was he going to break up with Morgan? Should he? If so, then what would become of the life they had begun building together? Talks of changing addresses and next year's Christmas vacation had for some time been floating in the air, and many of Reid's shirts had since found their ways into Derek Morgan's closet.

And if not, if they chose to forgive, or forget, or some combination of the two then how were they going to deal with everything that had happened last night? Neither was man of probing words, nor prying manner; and to belay that, Morgan's pride would restrict him from wanting to talk about what had happened, while Reid's timidness would choke it altogether.

As much as Reid wished it would be enough to just slap some bandages and makeup on the wounds and pretend that everything was fine, he knew somewhere deep down that, really, he just couldn't do that.

This would need addressing, and as much as he was dreading it, he simultaneously wanted to get it over with.

Just as soon as Morgan showed up to work.

"Hey, Reid."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice so close to his ear, totally unaware that he hadn't been alone in his thoughts. He swiveled around, eyes resembling those of a deer caught in headlights, and was immediately met by the kind – if somewhat amused – face of Emily Prentiss.

She held up a hand. "Whoah, there, cowboy. Deep breaths, inhale . . . exhale . . ." She quirked an eyebrow at Reid's stiff form. "Easy."

Reid could do nothing to stop the flush coming up in his cheeks. "Emily! Don't do that. You could g-give a guy a pulmonary embolism." He tried to sound indignant, but his wide eyes and stutter gave him away. Emily grinned, and, if possible, Reid's cheeks turned even redder.

"Sorry, sorry," she said amicably, sitting lightly on the edge of Reid's desk. She glanced around at where he had been staring, asking, "Waiting for someone special?"

Reid, still waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, took a moment before replying, "Not exactly." Seeing Prentiss's raised eyebrow, he mumbled, "I'm just . . . Hotch wants me and Morgan to go in and interview Mason Randall. As soon as he gets here."

"Ah." Reid's behavior suddenly made sense to the raven-haired woman. "Is he sure that's the . . . best idea?" They had all seen how Morgan reacted yesterday, knew that he was hardly what could have been called friendly – or even unbiased – regarding the case. Especially because it involved young boys, and –

Prentiss shook her head of the thought. That was none of her business. Instead, she took a keen look at Reid, who was shaking his head.

"I don't know. I guess he figures that with Morgan's – w-well, Morgan's hostility, a-and my . . ."

"Innocent youthfulness?" Prentiss cut in, wary.

Reid coughed. " . . . Yeah. I guess Hotch thinks we'll be good enough at the 'good cop, bad cop' thing to possibly extract some more information."

"Speaking of information," Emily leaned in closer, her hand shooting to Reid's face and tugging his chin towards her, "Care to tell me what antics you got into that left you with a black eye?"

Reid's cheeks flooded again, and he dropped his eyes, attempting to pull away from the unwelcome contact with sore skin. "You know me, Emily. I was . . . ah, I was taking shower last night, got rather clumsy with the soap-bar, and then this – " he gestured to the faded black eye "– is sort of proof that I really should stick to baths from now on."

Prentiss looked over the darkened skin again, and then her eyes met Reid's. "Why'd you try to cover it up, Reid?"

He jerked back from the barely-there accusing note in her voice, snapping, "Because I wasn't altogether eager for everyone to start making fun of the clumsy Dr. Reid yet again?" Emily flinched back, and for his own sake, Reid ignored the slight hurt that sparkled in her eyes, continuing, "I just want to get this case done, Prentiss, and go home and rest. I'm not in the mood for anything besides professionalism today."

Never one to back down, Emily stood up from the edge of the desk where she'd been sitting, and crossed her arms. "I wasn't trying to tease you, Reid. It's just that, after I saw the pitiful makeup job you tried to do on that shiner, I thought there might be something I could do to help." She glanced at him significantly.

Reid's shoulders drooped slightly, embarrassed by his behavior. "N-no, there's not really . . . If you could just not mention it to anyone else? I'm already tired today, and it's not a big deal, you know?"

Emily nodded. "I do know, Reid." She smiled slightly, and began to turn towards her own desk. At the last moment, she glanced over her shoulder. "Well, if you decide you do need someone to talk to, tease you about that rough-housing, or just show you how to use foundation properly, you know where I am."

Reid forced a minute smile. "I certainly do, Emily, I certainly do."

She tilted up the corners of her lips at him, and then sauntered away.

Reid turned his attention back to the doorway of the BAU, intent on watching for Morgan.

He was so focused on his task that when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and he felt breath in his ear, he yelped and jumped up, banging his bad knee on the side of his desk.

Gritting his teeth, it was through squinted eyes that Reid looked up to see just the man he'd been looking for.

"Derek."

From across the bullpen, Emily stood side by side with Hotch, both of them watching the spectacle of Morgan and Reid. While the former had to bite back a giggle at Reid's infamously easy tendency to startle, Hotch stiffened as soon as he saw it.

Reid reacted like that – jumpy – quite often, because he was so very much in his thoughts. But when was the last time Morgan had given him a scare simply by touching him?

Hotch couldn't even remember.

And it didn't get better. From the distance he was at, as soon as Reid recognized his boyfriend, his posture stiffened, arms crossing over his chest and eyes darting almost imperceptibly to nearby exits – every muscle of his was locked in tension, screaming I don't want to be here.

Hotch narrowed his eyes, and prepared to intervene.

A hand on his arm stopped him.

"Don't," he heard Prentiss's voice whisper flatly behind him.

He turned to face her, raised his eyebrow.

An expression that usually had whoever it was aimed at backing off in the most obvious way, his scowl didn't make Prentiss so much as blink. Rather, she pursed her lips at him, eyes stony.

"Look – something's up between them, I knew that as soon as Reid got freaked out by you assigning them to work together."

Hotch nodded. "They must have had a fight – "

"Lover's quarrel," Emily cut in, and then frowned at Hotch's surprised expression. "What? I'm a profiler too, Hotch, and damned good at my job. I figured it out ages ago."

"Anyone else?"

"JJ knows, but that's only because she knew Reid had a crush on Morgan, and one day, he just stopped talking about. Garcia suspects, for the same reasons about Morgan . . . I have no idea about Rossi."

Garcia with her technical abilities and Rossie being . . . well, Rossi . . . Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So basically, everyone on the team is aware, and no one's said a thing until now?"

Prentiss shrugged. "Us girls figured that when they were ready to tell, they would tell. How come you didn't say anything?"

"The rules in our hand book say that unless something affects our team dynamic, I don't need to be concerned about it. Basically." He added at the last minute.

Beside him, Prentiss nodded. "Basically."

They didn't say a word for a moment, just watched as their two teammates carried on a conversation they couldn't hear, all the while prepared to step in. Reid was standing tall but slightly huddled in on himself, and when he looked over and met eyes with the two of them, his posture grew tense once more. He placed an arm on Derek's, and very firmly began tugging him towards the nearest exit.

Emily and Hotch watched in near-silence, until the clear doors to the BAU slid shut behind them with a slight whisper. Then Prentiss turned to her superior, a hint of hostility written across her features.

"Is Morgan the one who gave Reid that black eye?"

Hotch internally winced at the reminder. "I have my suspicions, but I'm not sure. Reid didn't act like he was afraid of him, but . . ."

Her fists clenched. "Maybe I should go out there."

Hotch immediately shook his head. "Don't." She raised her eyebrows at him, but his resolve held. "They need to settle this, however they intend to go about doing that, and Reid wouldn't appreciate us bursting in on them like overly-concerned parents."

"Morgan might have hurt him – !"

"Prentiss, he's a grown man – and an FBI agent. They both are. They're professionals, and they can handle it."

Emily frowned, resentment marring her usually pretty face. "Doesn't mean I have to be okay with this." She turned to look at him. "Because I'm not, Hotch. I'm not."

He met her eyes briefly. "You don't have to be. Just don't interfere with them. That's an order."

Her eyes flared, and when she spoke, it was with no small amount of fury concealed in a clipped, calm tone. "I think I'll just go work on my paperwork then, sir."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked over to the desk, almost as if she intended to destroy the thing.

Hotch watched, vaguely amused by her temper and touched by her obvious concern, before casting one last glance at the door before heading up to his office.

God, he hoped this was a fixable problem.

It took everything that Derek Morgan had not to jump in surprise as well when his Pretty Boy reacted the way he did – when exactly was the last time that he had scared Reid?

If anything, he was one of the only ones who was allowed to touch the genius by default. Had been, really, from nearly the beginning – and certainly after, through all of the rough times . . .

But not today . . . ?

Immediately, the older agent pulled his hand away, and said nothing for a moment as his younger lover stared up at him, breathing slightly hitched and eyes wide with surprise and . . . something else. Something unfamiliar.

Well, familiar to him, and for Reid, but . . .

. . . Fear?

Morgan's breathing hitched.

Why would he be afraid? Did I really scare him that badly?

He watched in silence as Reid caught his breath, and then a moment of awkwardness stretched between them as neither said a word. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, Derek reached behind him and pulled out something he'd carried in.

"You left your bag at my place, Spencer."

The young doctor flinched, completely without reason from where Derek was standing, and, concerned, Morgan took a good, long look at the man before him.

What?

Spencer's satchel dropped to the floor unnoticed when Morgan's keen eyes caught onto the patch of discolored skin around Reid's eyes. His hand shot out, intending to touch and explore – only to freeze in place when Reid violently recoiled from his touch, something haunted flittering in his eyes.

Reid seemed just as shocked by his reaction as Morgan, and for a moment, his shoulders tensed and his expression stiffened, his inner agent struggling to take control over his baser instincts.

Morgan didn't really care about that – all he cared about was the now-obvious bruising around his boyfriend's face; he wanted to find out who had had the nerve to put it there, and then dedicate some serious time into teaching them why they were to never, ever do it again.

His fists clenched as he spoke. "Reid – what happened to your eye?"

Reid's eyes snapped up to him, a wide variety of emotions circling his face. "W-what?"

Morgan stared. Had he not heard? "Your eye," he said leadenly, trying to conceal his scowl.

Reid's hand unconsciously flittered to his face. "My – I – I m-mean, I'm f-fine, Derek."

Morgan shook his head. "Don't try to play me, man. Your eye – what happened?" His urge to step up and take care of Spencer was overwhelming, but he didn't dare after the reaction earlier.

The young genius just looked at him. "You don't know." It was a statement, not a question.

Morgan shook his head.

Reid blinked, something painful crossing his features, and it was another moment before he spoke again, his face wiped clean of emotions in a way that didn't quite seem normal. "It's nothing, Derek."

Morgan took another step forward. "It's not nothing, Spencer."

Reid instinctively took another step back, keeping the distance between them equal, and his eyes flittered nervously over to the other side of the bullpen.

Oh, great. Prentiss and Hotch were watching this, too.

He glanced at Derek, and could see the impatience boiling on the other man's face. Tugging on a lock of his hair, Reid made an instant decision, and, swallowing the slight lump of fear he could feel in his throat, he grabbed Morgan's hand and began tugging him out of the bullpen, ignoring the strange looks they were getting from the other agents around them.

Derek didn't protest, but his body language was positively screaming with the desire to take control, and again Reid's heart fluttered in an unfamiliar feeling on fear as they finally found themselves in the nearest bathroom.

Reid broke away from his friend for a moment to check that they were, indeed, alone, and then turned back to face the confused and irritated protective look on Morgan's face.

He looks mad. Just like last –

Reid shook his head, willing himself not to remember again. He couldn't – not here, not now.

Morgan seemed to have caught on that something wasn't right, and he made a conscious effort to keep his hands at his side, rather than running them over Reid like he normally would when his lover was distressed.

The younger man tried to be grateful for the consideration, but all he could think about now that he was here in Derek's presence was those big, wonderful hands . . .

. . . wrapped around his neck, throwing him into the wall, snapping at him, hurting him . . .

He shivered. And that alone seemed to snap Derek back into the present situation again. He took a very small step forward, almost as if he was approaching a skittish animal.

"Reid," he said, his voice softer and more gentle than it had been before. "Tell me what happened to your eye. Please?"

The younger man took in a deep breath, steeling himself, and then let the words fall out in one strangled breath.

"You did."