The Essentials of Sociology

Chapter Two: Last Night Was a Doozy

A/N: As promised, Part two. This is going shockingly well so far. Let's see where the story goes...

Blue bird

Reid knocked on Morgan's door the next day to apologize about his rude behavior the night before. He had a bottle of Tylenol, two large bags of Cheetos and a pirated action movie in his messenger bag as he tapped on the door. A few moments later, the door opened and there he stood. Morgan. He stood so tall and suave… and shirtless. Reid bit his lip and looked directly in Morgan's eyes, "Hi."

Morgan chuckled, "Hey! What's up, doc?"

"I… I…" Reid stuttered, "I'm s-sorry about last night. I w-was being a little, well, I… I was a t-tad—"

Morgan waved Reid inside with a pleasant smile on his face, "It's fine. I was drunk and I shouldn't have overwhelmed you. You aren't the one who should be the one apologizing."

Reid entered the apartment, clutching the strap of his bag, upset that his hair was no longer long enough to push behind his ears, "No, I should be. I said some pretty mean things."

Morgan snickered, closing the door and heading into the kitchen, "You told me, verbatim, to 'Go fuck a Columbian'. That wasn't mean. It was hysterical."

"What? Columbians are quite nice. I've met a few."

Morgan's voice snaked out from the kitchen, "Me too. It's not their ethnicity that makes it funny, it was the venom-coated disdain you served to me last night. It was almost like you were daring me to do it. Like, 'Fuck a Columbian, and I'll skin you alive'."

"As if I could possibly subdue you long enough to finally accomplish something like that," Reid replied, tightening his grip on his messenger bag.

"You could get lucky and catch me on one of my off days," Morgan shrugged, walking into the living room with two mugs of something warm, "Here, have some coffee. You look like shit."

Reid sighed, taking the mug, "Well, thank you for the compliment. How are you not hung-over, by the way?"

"I am, but I just ran four miles and got out of the shower. Hence the towel."

Reid raised his eyebrow and took a sip, "What towel?"

"You would know if you weren't giving me the most intense eye contact I've ever received."

"I was not… 'giving you intense eye contact'." Reid disagreed, letting his eyes sweep down Morgan's—oh, sweet Jesus—body. Not letting himself linger, he stared back up at Morgan's nose, not able to bear looking into his eyes, "See, I looked."

Morgan set his own mug down and leaned forward to push Reid's chin up so that their eyes met, "Don't be so scared, Reid. I don't bite... unless you're into that."

Reid's mouth went dry and he couldn't give reply. He really tried to speak, just… well… nothing came out. So, he stared and stared into Morgan's eyes, hoping he backs away. As his blood rushed downward due to the touch and close proximity to his best friend, he wanted to crawl into a hole, shrivel up and die. Morgan's breath on his face was surely to be the death of him. Reid's heart was palpitating quicker than it had when there was a gun to his head and drugs pulsating through his veins several years ago. He's getting closer and closer and closer. He whispered against Reid's lips, "I wish our first kiss went more like this…" as their lips met in a soft, slow kiss. There was enough blood left in his face to make an entire army blush as Morgan wrapped his strong arms around Reid and pressed his hard muscled body against his chest. Reid's hands lifted to cling to the back of Morgan's neck, because without Morgan's arms around him, he would surely fall flat on his face. Oh, God. Morgan was a brilliant kisser. Of course, he was a brilliant kisser. Before Reid knew it, his breath was stolen away. Reid has never wanted like he wants now, especially when Morgan is—

"Reid… Reid!"Hotch's voice rang out as he tapped Reid's shoulder.

Reid jolted awake and said loudly and quickly, "Good morning Agent Hotchner I'm sorry for sleeping in the middle a briefing don't fire me please I'm young and I don't have options!"

Hotch sighed, moving his hand from the young man's shoulder, "You're not in a briefing, Dr. Reid, you're at your desk, making out with the files I assigned you ten minutes ago. Thank your lucky stars I walked by before they could give consent."

"Oh, I am so sorry. I… I was distracted and I had a hard weekend. I just… I'm sorry," Reid stumbled over his words, not sure if he was more mortified of kissing his paper work, or Hotch watching him do it, "You see, there was this thing and—"

Hotch raised his right hand and closed his eyes, "I don't want to know. Just… don't do it again."

"Yes, sir," Reid nodded, sure as day his face was as red as a stop sign as his superior walked off, shaking his head clear of the naughty image Reid had probably seared into his brain.

He heard a chuckle from across the room and looked up, meeting none other than Agent Derek Morgan's eyes. Reid grimaced, "What are you chuckling at?"

"You know," Morgan began with a teasing smile, "I always wondered why you finished your papers so quickly. Now everything makes sense. You get off on all that work, don't you?"

"Morgan," Reid warned.

Morgan laughed harder as he poorly mocked sexual pleasure, "Oh, yeah! Case files! Give me more, Hotch. Give me more!"

"Fuck you," Reid grimaced.

"Sure, why not? Do you want it on top of your paper work? We can have a threesome." Morgan grinned.

With a bloodthirsty glare, Reid replied, "Turn around and do your work."

"Ooh," Morgan winked, "Kinky."

Too frustrated to give an answer himself, Prentiss hissed for Reid from her desk, while typing furiously, "Morgan, seriously. Before he has an aneurism."

"But I just got started," he shrugged.

Reid whipped out his left hand and raised his middle finger long enough for Morgan to realize he was genuinely not in the mood for pokes and prods. It's bad enough they kissed last Friday. Hell, it's worse enough that he had an almost sex dream about him at work! Reid couldn't even look Morgan in the face without blushing, and he didn't think he could outlast Morgan's blasé attitude about what happened during Countdown. Reid knows he shouldn't be asking for much from him considering Morgan was probably blackout drunk when it happened, but he can't help but feel somewhat giddy about the fact that they had kissed at all. Chances are so low it will happen again, so, for once, he's glad he forgoed the alcohol during that yearly get together. He remembered every second of Morgan's smooth, soft lips on his as his eidetic memory replayed the subtle brush of their nightly stubble brushing together, the hint of dark chocolate on his tongue that Morgan likes to eat when he drinks tequila, the light feel of his hand caressing Reid's face… there was something so hot, so sultry, so intensely sexual about it all. Reid could have done whatever he wanted with Morgan, and the senior agent wouldn't remember a thing. But he didn't do anything with the freedom God gave him. He paused. Shit.

Reid jolted awake at his desk on Monday again with enough determination to rival a pack of oxen. He had decided upon the second heated, passionate dream he had underwent featuring his womanizing co-worker that he has had enough of Morgan, and he was going to stay crabby all day in hopes that he wouldn't fall prey to any more dangerous dreams.

For Reid, it's rare he gets hit on; much less by a man, and even lesser by Morgan, who in turn hits on anything with ample breasts and a nice tush. While Reid lacks breasts, he had spent way too much time that weekend staring at himself in the mirror in his work pants, asking his reflection if the roundness of his rear was enough to set it off for the flirty agent. Probably not. There was no reason for their lips to ever meet unless there was something horribly wrong with the cosmos. The whole natural order could have been disrupted. People could be dying. Fires could be starting. Children may not be born. All of this is now possible because Derek Morgan decided to lay one on Spencer Reid at Countdown.

Cursing his luck as he glanced up, Morgan was just walking into the office after his lunch break with a big grin on his face. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Morgan said his hellos to Prentiss and JJ, striding over to Reid's desk, "2013, bro. How's it been treating you?"

"Well, since the Apocalypse hasn't come to pass, I seem to be alright," Reid answered curtly.

Morgan chuckled and leaned over the divider, "Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"No one. I had a bagel," Reid replied, finishing the paper he had filled out on an upcoming case and reaching for another.

"Fine, if you don't want to tell me, I understand," Morgan shrugged, looking to see if the coast was clear before leaning closer to whisper, "Do you have any clue what happened at the Countdown party? Because I rung in the New Year on the floor of my kitchen without my pants."

Reid raised an eyebrow, "How did that happen?"

"I don't know! I was drinking with three really nice Dominican girls and then I was missing my pants in my house."

Reid corrected him, "Columbian."

"What?"

"The girls were Columbian, not Dominican," Reid supplied.

Morgan nodded with a smile, "So, you do know what happened last night."

Reid shrugged and said ominously while tapping his noggin, "Everything's right up here."

"So, you'll help me out?" Morgan asked, his voice pleading more than his expression.

"Nope."

Morgan leaned further over the desk and glared, hissing, "Why?"

Reid snickered, "No way I'm telling you what happened last night. Besides, I left right after the '3-2-1'. If you really want to know what happened, talk to those girls you seemed to be having so much fun with last night."

"Why would I do that? They obviously had something against my pants."

"They must have," Reid replied, signing the bottom of his case file and smiling up at him, "Forty five down, three to go. Looks like I'm leaving early today."

Morgan grimaced, "I hate you."

Reid opened another file and sighed, "That's no way to butter up the only person you know with an eidetic memory…"

"I don't hate you?" Morgan suggested.

Reid tried so hard to be mad at Morgan. He really did. And, hell, he was for the better part of seven hours! But Morgan just looked so sad and confused about the night before, and to make matters worse, the poor guy woke up on the floor without his pants. Reid's had bad nights, but damn. That sure tops a few of the strange mornings he's encountered. Looking over at his friend (and trying to hide his reverence), Reid decided to give part of the truth, "You had a few tequilas and were flirting with the girls. Then Countdown came around and I left."

Morgan squinted his eyes as he listened to his friend, replying afterward, "You're lying."

"What?" Reid said, his voice going up in pitch, "I'm not… lying."

"You remember more than that." Morgan folded his arms across his broad chest and looked down his nose at Reid, "What are you hiding?"

The young doctor leaned back in his chair and looked up at Morgan, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do."

Reid glared, "Are you profiling me? You can't profile me. We've talked about that. I'll get Rossi."

"I'm not scared of Rossi."

Reid challenged, "I'll get Hotch."

"I'm not scared of Hotch."

Reid held his eye contact, "I'll get Strauss."

"Fine, I'll stop grilling you," Morgan growled, and leaned forward to whisper, "I'm not done with you yet, Pretty Boy."

As Morgan walked away from his desk, Reid's shoulders relaxed a bit. Great. If he thought he was in trouble this morning, he had another thing coming. There's no way he could leave his New Year's kiss behind him. Not by a long shot.

A/N: And, there you go! Chapter two! See you all next week with chapter three. I'll give you one clue about next week... draaaaaaaaaaaaaaama.

Your friendly neighborhood Blue