The Essentials of Sociology

Chapter Five: How About Them Cavaliers?

A/N: Hey, all. Blue here.

Fun fact! I named this chap How About Them Cavaliers, because it was something kids where I grew up used to say when things got awkward. There would be a silence and one of us would go, "So... how about them Patriots?" or "So... how about them Mets?" and that would usually get the conversation rolling by way of sports instead of whatever caused the awkward silence.

Blue-bie Doobie Doobie

Reid slid down the back of his closed front door, holding his ever present messenger bag to his chest as he sighed and tried to figure all of this out. How in Hell did Morgan take this news so well? Of course, at first he was startled as any man would be when he found out he had kissed one of his male friends in a drunken stupor, but after that settled in, Morgan just went back to being the way he always was. That happened to be just what Reid wanted. Some nice, honest, quality time with his best friend was pretty much all he had pegged for since they became friends in the first place. Then came the girls and the (not) jealousy and now, the kiss. Reid bit his lip. Wow, that kiss. It was something else alright… Reid sighed once more. He wasn't going to lie to himself, it was great—a lot better than he had let on with Morgan too. It was intense, but meaningful. Sloppy, but determined. Graceless, yet elegant. There was nothing not to love about it. Until, of course, Morgan spewed chunks all over a fichus. That, indeed, was not cute.

What Reid couldn't explain was Morgan's behavior as the night drew to a close. Even in the restaurant, he pleaded to pay the bill as reparations for physical trauma he may have caused Reid during the Countdown, and spent the ending moments at the table with intense concentration. He had been studying Reid as if he were a case, and if he didn't know better, he'd guess Morgan was profiling him. But for what? What did Morgan want to know? And was what he was profiling for so outlandish that Morgan felt jittery even talking to him?

At this point, there were more questions than answers and he no longer knew where to even begin. Reid has solved puzzles and equations in everything from murders to kidnappings, but the most complicated and confusing thing he has ever faced had just walked him to the door. If there was anything Reid hated, it was being confused. He was used to knowing things, and, now that he didn't, he was uneasy.

Reid gripped his steering wheel and stared off at Morgan's apartment. Yeah. This was just like any other strictly friendly occasion that was strictly friendly between strictly friends… right? Except, this time, there was no team. There was no altercation that they needed to compensate for. This time, it was just Reid and Morgan, hanging out. Because, you know, they've totally done this before. He hopes he's dressed for the occasion, because ties and waistcoats seem to be his entire wardrobe these days. Oh, no. Maybe he should have dressed like Morgan. Morgan did say the best he had seen Reid was in a ripped tee shirt. Maybe he should have worn something more relaxed instead of a crisp white shirt, a red tie and a black waistcoat. They're hanging out, not inspecting corpses and filing paperwork! Oh, well, he thought as he pulled himself out of the car, too late to change now.

Walking up to the door, he breathed steadily and knocked on the door before he could stop himself. There was silence. Then a hushed, "Oh, shit!" Then the padding of footsteps, something heavy moving from where it had been before Reid knocked, and then something fell. There was a sound, like Morgan picking it up and then all of a sudden, the door swung open, Morgan looking completely relaxed as always despite the harried mess that had come from the other side of the door, "Hey, Spencer. What's new?"

"Nothing much. Just reread some Austin today, but other than that, zip," Reid shrugged, maintaining cautious eye contact, the situation eerily similar to the dream Hotch had snatched him out of. Great. Now, he's thinking about the dream. The sexy, sexy dream. You know, the one with Morgan dripping wet in a towel, giving Reid these "come hither" eyes that were just…mmm. No! No. He was not going to do this right now. Not at all. He was going to listen to his friend.

He could eyes see Morgan's lips moving, and his ears worked fine, honest! He'd just gotten them both checked a few weeks ago. But, somehow, all he could see and hear was that mirage of Morgan standing at the door in his towel and motioning him closer with a crooked finger, saying, "Come on, Reid. I know you want me. Forget watching basketball. How about we do something else…"

"Why, Derek, what do you have in mind?"

Morgan smiled gingerly, "Well, for starters, a little birdy tells me, you've been a naughty boy."

Reid blushed, "Oh?"

"Tell me how bad you've been, Pretty Boy." Morgan instructed, "And maybe I'll punish you for your behavior."

Reid replied mindlessly, "I've been really, really bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad."

"Tell me again…"

Reid said out loud, "So fucking bad!"

"Um… what?" Morgan asked, eyebrow raised, "If you don't like basketball, we can always do something else…"

Shaking his head and stepping into the house, Reid rambled before his dream had the possibility of becoming a reality, "No! I am so sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I mean what were we talking about that would hint to even being about something bad? No one's bad. I most certainly haven't been bad. Have you been bad? Of course not! We're the good guys! We save people! We're awesome! Basketball is awesome! Let's watch some!"

Morgan paused, closing the door and nodding worriedly, "Okay?"

Perfect. Now he's weirded Morgan out. Here, Reid thought that was physically impossible after several years in the Bureau. But, hey, they're a part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Seeing the impossible become possible is in the job description. He trailed Morgan, praying to whatever God was out there that he won't say or do anything to make Morgan feel too uncomfortable tonight. Why, if tonight went off without a hitch, they would probably be hanging out all the time. Maybe they'd even go to work together, and spend extra time together, and kiss on the weekends. Okay, maybe the last one won't happen, but a guy can dream, can't he?

The living room was immaculate. It was seriously so clean that it worried him. If anyone is messy and unorthodox, it was SSA Derek Morgan. And here he is with an ungodly clean apartment. I won't profile him, I won't profile him, I have to profile him! Reid quickly surveyed the area in his mind. White couches. No dust. Simple carpet. Blank, red walls. His desk at the bullpen was a train wreck. How is his house infected with the power of Pine-sol? Something doesn't add up. As he sat, he noticed a small, porcelain elephant. Reid asked, "What's up with the elephant?"

Morgan sat beside him, handing Reid a glass of red wine, "It's my mom's. She always had an elephant facing the door in the house. No matter how small or large. Said it was feng shui. No idea what it means. I never asked."

"Oh, feng shui, of course! Elephants are a Chinese symbol of good fortune and strength. Well, not strictly Chinese, it's all over the place. It's supposed to not only give the inhabitants luck, but it also keeps them safe. Some people even name theirs after a family member that has passed and uses it as a sort of guardian angel." Reid supplied.

"Well, that's cool," Morgan shrugged with a smirk, "I never spend five minutes with you and don't learn something."

Reid took his lower lip into his mouth and nodded, "Sorry…"

"No! There's nothing to be sorry about, it's great! You remind me how big this world can be, you know. There's always something out there that I don't know about and it's humbling." Morgan countered, "Plus, it's cute when you talk really fast."

Reid paused, trying not to get wrapped up in the fact that Morgan had just casually called him 'cute', and murmured, "Oh… well, I guess that's good news then."

"Good news all around," Morgan smiled, "Especially since the Cavaliers look like they're going to do well this season. It's probably my lucky elephant."

Reid nodded and pumped a tiny fist in the air, feigning enthusiasm, "Go basketball."

"You are so uncomfortable with this that it's almost funny," Morgan chuckled, pulling out a jumbo bag of chips and offering it to him with a bow of his head, "Sustenance for milord?"

"Why, thank you, kind gentleman," Reid chuckled, digging his hand into the bag for a few crispy treats, "Did you know that potato chips were first made in 1853 while Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt was on vacation in New York? While at the Moon's Lake Lodge, he kept sending his fried potatoes back to the kitchen because he said they were too thick and not crunchy enough. The chef, a Native American actually, decided that he would cut them into paper-thin slices, boil them in oil, fry them, and salt them as a joke to the Commodore. It backfired and they became one of the most popular snack foods to ever be distributed."

Morgan raised his eyebrows, "You're shitting me?"

Reid shrugged, "I shit you not."

"That Cornelius guy sounds like a dick," Morgan replied, flipping through the channels on the television before them, settling on one and smiling as a basketball court lit the screen, "But he gave us Sour Cream and Onion, so I can't really hate the guy."

Reid nodded and supplied, "Oh, he was quite the dick. Then again, he was one of the richest and most powerful men in America at the time, so no one really had the balls to say that to his face. His great great grandson or something is actually Anderson Cooper."

Turning to look at Reid, Morgan gasped, "No way."

"Yeah, he's a Vanderbilt."

"Sometimes I ask myself whether or not you actually know everything and are just sparing our feelings when you say you don't," Morgan joked.

Reid countered with a smirk, "You got me. I've been fucking with you guys this whole time. I actually do know everything. I'm Allah."

"Oh, yeah?" Morgan laughed, "What color underwear am I wearing?"

Reid answered, "Red."

Morgan paused and gave him a wary look, "How did you know that?"

"Because I'm awesome," Reid shrugged, and nodded to the crotch of his pants, "Plus, your fly's undone."

Morgan's hand raced to his zipper as he snatched it up, "Oh, God! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't going to say anything until just before I left, so that you'd walk around with the knowledge that your zipper was down all night." Reid laughed, raising his glass pointedly at his coworker before taking a large gulp.

Morgan began to laugh as well, "Spencer, you do know that's Italian Amarone, right?"

"And?" Reid replied, taking another gulp of the sweet wine, "Damn this is good."

"And… you have to sip it. The alcohol proof is fucking crazy," Morgan informed, sipping at his cup gently.

Reid shrugged and set his glass down so he could fold his arms, "I don't care. I don't ever get drunk anyway. Despite popular belief, I'm quite the heavyweight."

Morgan asked with an heir of intrigue, "You can hold your liquor?"

"Like Mikhail Gorbachev held onto his Grammy," he replied.

"Who's Mikhail Gorba-something?" Morgan asked.

Reid raised his eyebrows, "Exactly."

"Don't get cute." Morgan responded with a smile, raising his glass toward the screen, "See, the Sixers are getting their asses handed to them. Isn't that more fun than Mikhail?"

"What are Sixers?"

"The team in gold and blue. The Philadelphia basketball team is called the 76ers." Morgan replied, leaning back on the couch, "You see, the premise of basketball isn't just to get a ball in a basket. It's how you get the ball in the basket and who you knock down to get to the basket. It's like a track runner, a pro wrestler and a sharp shooter all in one."

Reid glanced at the screen, eyes shrinking as he focused the names and numbers of all of the players, following their moves across the court as if they were angles and shapes. He sees it less like track, wrestling, shooting, and more like a complex game of pool. Each of the players represent a ball. The Cavaliers are striped while the 76ers are bold. The energy between each of the teams will stand as the sticks. Each stick goes across the court, trying to knock other balls out of its way while also trying to get as many their team's balls in the basket as it can. He called out to Morgan, "Number 4 is doing pretty good today. Battie. What's his first name?"

Morgan growled, "Tony. And please tell me you're not rooting for the other team."

Reid shrugged and replied, "I root for both teams."

Morgan began to laugh and turned to Reid with a mocking smile, "So, you mean to tell me you're into dudes?"

"What? No. Of course not. I love women." Reid lied partially. Technically, he's heteroflexible as of now.

"Holy shit, you're gay?" Morgan announced, shock apparent in his eyes as he forgot the game and looked Reid over, "Dude, when were you going to freaking tell me? I thought we were friends!"

Reid gasped and frowned at his friend, "I'm not gay!"

Nodding, Morgan replied, "Well, now your eyebrows are finally telling me you're not lying. So, what? Do you like… both?"

Reid grimaced, leaning away from Morgan and pushing his face into a pillow to quell his oncoming blush before replying, "I'm not talking about this right now."

"So, you're bi," Morgan nodded with a shrug, "That's cool. More ass for you, then."

Sighing and groaning, Reid mumbled into the fabric, "I'm not bisexual. I'm not gay. I'm not straight. I'm not anything, okay? Guys like me don't have sex. End of story."

Reid heard a scoff from Morgan as the older agent replied, "That's bullshit. You have a dick, right?"

"…yeah."

Morgan continued, "Does it work?"

Reid flushed and pushed his head further into the pillow, "Derek, I'm not talking about this."

"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb and say it does." Morgan said, "Then the way I see it, you have free range to party. I don't believe in much, but I believe in sex. A guy or girl can have sex whenever they want with whoever they want. That's one of the joys of being human. There's no reason why you shouldn't be having sex if you want to."

Reid grumbled, "…no one entices me."

"Oh, please. Everyone has some kind of fetish—"

"Gross, Derek, come on!" Reid hissed, "I. Am not. Talking. About. This."

Morgan sighed and Reid felt a hand caress his back, "Yeah, you are, because I bet you have some rabid sexual beast in there ready to burst out. Just wait until the right person comes along. You'll ravish them with bed-breaking, wall-shaking, headboard-smashing sex, and it'll be so good. I guarantee it."

The pillow shifted under Reid as Morgan pulled it away. Reid swallowed, "This is about the worst 'It Gets Better' pep talk I've ever heard."

"Fine, you want the truth?" Morgan shrugged, "Life sucks and then you die. The end."

Reid sighed miserably, "Sounds about right."

"But, there's so much great shit out there that if you missed even a bit of it, your life would suck that much more." Morgan smiled, rubbing his shoulder calmly, "So, if you can go nuts and have a night out with some girl or guy, then so be it. No one's saying you can't do it but you. If you like girls, awesome, boobs are one of the greatest inventions of all time. If you like guys, good, because gay sex is so much more interesting than straight sex."

Reid blinked and looked up at his friend with confusion in his eyes, "You've had gay sex?"

"Fuck no," Morgan snickered, "But I know how it works and if you want to have serious fun, it seems, jump in the sack with a dude."

Reid tried to piece this all together, "So… you want to have gay sex?"

"Well, yeah. Maybe just once to see what it felt like. I heard it doesn't suck completely."

"In theory, it wouldn't. The male penis craves warmth and closure more than anything else, so as a warmer and more compacted channel, the anus is probably more physically enjoyable than a vagina. Plus, there is the prostate gland that can only be found and stimulated through males during gay sex," Reid hypothesized, "And with women, the vagina is rarely even a stimulus for sexual pleasure. The clitoris would be easier reached and soothed by the labia of another woman while the other woman is gratified as well. Wow, Morgan, you're right."

Morgan grimaced, "Please don't ever explain sex again. You make it sound weird."

"Science makes everything sound weird." Reid iterated.

"Okay?" Morgan paused and straightened up his back, patting Reid's shoulder awkwardly, "On that strange note, go apeshit and have rabid animal sex. You deserve it, Doctor."

Reid began to smile as he realized something, "If you're uncomfortable with the topic, just say so."

Morgan scoffed, "I'm not. I'm never uncomfortable."

"You don't really want to be talking about this with me. I can see it in your eyes," Reid laughed, "It took me a while because you used your whole mentor vibe on me, but underneath it all, you don't want to be talking about my sex life. Do you?"

"Fine, whatever. I was a little weirded out with your textbook knowledge of sex. You made it sound like Einstien's senior thesis," Morgan shuddered, "But all in all, I can talk about it and be perfectly fine. I'm not a fifth grader. You're the one who's uncomfortable and your uncomfortability made me uncomfortable."

Reid reasoned, "So, you're uncomfortable because I'm uncomfortable?"

Morgan gave Reid an exasperated look, "Sure."

With a tilt of his head, Reid grabbed the glass of wine and took a sip, "Well, ever since I watered the idea down to a scientific formula, I'm no longer embarrassed. Sex is less desirable and more a display of reproductive urges."

"And that's what made me uncomfortable. I look at sex as a goal, or, you know, something fun at least."

Reid nodded and replied, "And I look at it as a science project that I will never be a part of. Technically, what you seem to enjoy so much is a several millennia old act of biochemistry and physics."

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Morgan announced.

Reid chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, "Just wait until I describe orgasms. Now, that just sounds painful."

"So… when did you know you liked dudes?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Reid snickered.

Morgan raised his hand to his face and sighed, "Shut up."

"If anything, you're the one who likes men. You admitted to wanting to give gay sex a try," Reid argued with a level attitude.

Strong arms folded across Morgan's chest as he replied, "You fucking profiling me?"

The ball was now in Reid's court. If he knew how to do anything, it was talk people into seeing what he wanted them to see. Reid shrugged nonchalantly, "Only because you shouldn't be grilling me about being bisexual if you are considering it yourself. Just when were you going to tell me about your ambivalent sexuality? Oh, yeah, never. Because it's none of my business. And since your sexuality is none of my business, then mine isn't any of yours."

"Reid, I was just trying to help."

"No, you were putting me on the spot while you stayed hidden in that dumb 'best friend' act that makes you seem blemishless." Reid argued, "Hell, you're probably so far in the closet, I'm shocked you haven't met Aslan yet. Tell me, Derek, how's Narnia?"

Morgan growled, "Take that back!"

Reid hissed back, "No!"

Morgan yelled, "Fine! I don't care anyway!"

Reid exclaimed, "Good! Because any quotient of mathematic proportions couldn't quantify how little I care!"

"That's perfectly fine with me! Fuck who you want, or hell, don't fuck at all since you think you're some sort of Virgin Mary on a mission!"

"Oh, so I'm the Virgin Mary, huh? What does that make you round about a month ago? One of Santa's little closeted ho ho hoes?"

"Fuck you!" Morgan spewed.

Reid turned to Morgan and grimaced in his face, "Wouldn't you like to?"

"Yeah, you'd like that if I did, wouldn't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I would love that!"

"I'd love that too!"

"Good," Reid spat, "Because that would give me the chance to show you what a little bitch you are!"

"Oh, so I'm a little bitch? How much do you bench, Macho Man? Three kilos? I could pound your ass into next week!"

"I would let you!"

"Good!"

"Awesome!"

The two flew across the couch and pushed their faces together into a torrential kiss. Neither knew what they were trying to prove, and at this point, it barely mattered. That awkward tension between them was shattered, broken into a trillion tiny little pieces of pent up passion and lust. Hands were everywhere, mouths lost their decorum, and for once, Reid's thoughts went completely still. All that was on his mind was the man in his arms, gripping him and holding him tight as he pressed all of his confusion and his secrets and his words into one passionate kiss. Reid's inner monologue seemed to be on a loop filled with swear words and Morgan. Morgan's fucking mouth, Morgan's fucking hands, Morgan's fucking tongue. Morgan, Morgan, Morgan!

When did he get on top of Morgan's lap? His eidetic memory was failing him and for once, he couldn't give less of a damn. Lips peppered hard kisses down his throat and strong arms gripped him tight in a locked embrace. Heat. Passion. Hands were in his hair and he was breathing hot carbon dioxide. Lust. Need. Fingers started stroking at his chest and a leg was jammed right where he needed it. Desire. Sex. Reid had never wanted anything like this before. He'd never wanted anybody like this before. If he thought he was in love this afternoon, then right now was the biggest wake-up call of his life. Wait. Wake up. Spencer, dammit! Wake up! What the hell are you doing?

Reid jammed a hand in between them and pushed himself off of Morgan, untangling himself from his warm, safe arms. The doctor's eyes flew toward his coworker wildly as he scampered to the other end of the couch. Morgan looked back at him just as shocked, his eyes dark with lust and shame, lips glistening and red as evidence of their lost control. It was a long moment before their eyes separated quickly from the other's gaze and it took even longer for them to look back at each other to speak. Reid went first despite his better judgment as he said, "So… h—how about them Cavaliers?"

A/N: Things are about to get pretty fucking awkward... we can all thank Reid for that.

Blue's Clues