Sanctuary

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/57655477.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid
Characters: Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds), Jennifer "JJ" Jareau,
Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Jason
Gideon, Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Slow Burn
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-08-01 Updated: 2025-06-04 Words: 260,651 Chapters:
155/?
 Sanctuary
by SatoKaoru

Summary

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid have always been deeply supportive of each other, their
bond forged through shared trauma and countless challenges. As they navigate these
experiences side by side, their close, brotherly affection begins to evolve into something
more profound. Morgan is extremely careful not to cross the line, fearing that he would end
up hurting Reid. Yet, as time passes, resisting the pull of his emotions becomes increasingly
difficult.
 After Chicago
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 2, Episode 12, when Morgan‘s past was
revealed.
It's December 2006. Reid is 25, Morgan is 33 years old.

Derek Morgan was about to head out for a jog on a crisp Sunday morning when the doorbell
rang. Standing behind the door was his colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, wearing his geeky
glasses, a brown coat, and a purple scarf.

What the…? Derek's expression shifted to surprise. “Reid. How do you even know where I
live?”

“Hi,” Reid greeted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but Morgan was too stunned to respond.

“I asked Garcia,” Reid said, stepping inside.

“Come on in,” Morgan mumbled, following him.

“Nice place,” Reid remarked, his eyes scanning the room while Morgan continued to stare at
him. Just then, Cloony bounded into the living room with a happy bark, tail wagging. The
dog charged at Reid, who flustered and nearly lost his balance. Morgan laughed.

“Are you scared of dogs?”

“No, not at all. I’m not a dog person, per se, but I’m okay with dogs.”

As if to prove it, Reid reached out to pat Cloony’s head, only to quickly withdraw his hand
when the dog licked it. Morgan laughed again.

Reid sat on the sofa, Cloony curling up beside him. Morgan prepared two cups of coffee,
adding three spoons of sugar to one, and handed it to Reid. He leaned against the wall,
watching as Reid sipped his coffee with a relaxed demeanor.

“Why are you here?” Morgan finally asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Why not? Was it a bad time?”

“Did you drive here?” Morgan glanced at the Volvo Amazon parked in the driveway.

“Mm-hmm.”
“What if I had someone over?”

“Like who? A girl you picked up at a bar?”

“Maybe.”

“You wouldn’t.” Reid took another sip of his coffee.

Morgan squinted at him.

“You’d probably go to the girl’s place if you wanted to, you know, do whatever you do,” Reid
said, gesturing vaguely, “but you wouldn’t let her inside your house. Too... personal.”

“Are you profiling me?”

“No.” Reid met his eyes. “I just know you.”

The conversation hung in the air for a moment before Morgan spoke again.

“Does this have to do with what you found out about my past in Chicago?”

At that, Reid fell silent.

So that’s what this is about.

Morgan let out a sigh and sank into a nearby chair. “Okay… so what did Hotch tell you?”

“Not much. Hotch told us not to pry, just that you were one of Buford’s victims of sexual
abuse.” Reid said quietly, his voice weighted with concern.

“So you came over to... check on me?”

“Sort of.”

Morgan was confused, but not by Reid—by himself. He hated people poking into his
personal life, pitying him. He remembered how he’d snapped at Hotch in Chicago, slamming
his hand on the table and yelling. It had been humiliating, infuriating. But right now, he felt
something different. Something almost... flattered?

Reid stared down at his coffee. Morgan stood, walked over to him, and gave his head a
playful pat. “You don’t need to ‘big brother’ me, pretty boy. I’m fine.”

“You didn’t look fine in Chicago,” Reid said, glancing up at him.

“I’m fine now,” Morgan said, offering him a reassuring smile. “Besides,” he added with a
teasing grin, “how’s barging into my house and drinking my coffee supposed to help?”

Reid thought for a moment, then pouted slightly. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “I was
about to go for a jog. Wanna join me?”

“What? Jogging? No,” Reid said with mock horror.

“Alright, alright. Then let’s go Christmas shopping.”

“Two grown men don’t go Christmas shopping together. People will think we’re a gay
couple.”

“Let ‘em think that. Or even better, let’s pretend we are.” Morgan flashed a cheeky smile.

“Ha-ha,” Reid fake-laughed.

“Who knows?” Morgan said with a shrug. “We might need to go undercover as a couple
sometime. Good practice.”

Reid raised his eyebrows. It might actually be fun. He wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, but he
was good at bluffing in poker, and he did enjoy acting. “Okay, I’m in.”

“That’s my boy.” Morgan’s grin widened. “Take off your glasses. I want to show off that
gorgeous face.”

Morgan took off Reid’s glasses gently.

“I can’t see properly without them.”

“It’s fine. I’ll hold your hand the whole time, lover.” Morgan teased, extending his hand to
help Reid up.

***

It was funny how easily both Morgan and Reid slipped into character. After all, they were
FBI agents—experts at what they did. Even for Reid, who usually got uneasy and awkward
around people, acting alongside Derek Morgan felt effortless. There was a solid trust between
them, and that made everything easier, even pretending to be a couple.

As they reached the entrance of the shopping mall, the holiday spirit immediately surrounded
them. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked cookies. Twinkling
lights adorned every pillar, and garlands of greenery were draped across the railings. A
massive Christmas tree stood at the center, its ornaments sparkling under the bright lights,
while soft carols played through the mall’s speakers.

Morgan opened the passenger door for Reid, who stepped out with ease. They held hands as
they walked through the festive crowd, a quiet confidence passing between them. At 185
centimeters tall, their similar height brought their faces close.

Morgan couldn’t help but admire Reid’s effortless confidence in the role of his “boyfriend.”

Without a word, Morgan draped his long black scarf around Reid’s neck, a playful gesture,
and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. Reid didn’t flinch, didn’t lose his cool.

“Hey, Spencer, how about this one?”

Morgan gestured toward a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Reid, instantly picking up on
the unspoken fun of the moment, nodded.

“Yeah, this shade of green goes well with the carpet, I think…”

Before Morgan could respond, a store clerk approached with a bright smile. “Hello there! Are
you two looking for a Christmas tree for your house?”

“Yes. We... just moved in together,” Morgan said, his voice betraying a hint of bashfulness.

“Oh, how exciting!” The clerk beamed. “Are you two married?”

“Soon. We’re engaged,” Reid answered smoothly, flashing a smile.

“Congratulations!” The lady gushed, her enthusiasm evident. “Well, if you need help with
anything, I’ll be over there.”

“Thanks,” Morgan said, giving her a friendly nod.

“Thank you,” Reid echoed, his voice carrying a touch of amusement.

The reflection of them in the store window was unmistakable—the image of a couple.
Morgan leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper. “You’re totally enjoying this, aren’t you?
Fooling people?”

Reid couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “You, too.”

But their enjoyment was short-lived.

“Reid? Morgan?”

The familiar voice froze them both in place, their hearts skipping a beat.

Hotch…!!!

In a flash, they let go of each other’s hands. Morgan yanked his scarf off Reid’s neck as
though the action might erase the evidence. They turned to face Hotch, who stood with his
wife beside him, his serious expression giving them a jolt of anxiety.

“Hi, Hotch,” Reid stammered, raising his hand nervously, his earlier confidence evaporating
in an instant.

“Were you two holding hands?”

“Uh, it was... um... a training exercise,” Morgan blurted out, his words coming out in a
jumbled rush. “You know, for...undercover training.”

Hotch stared at them for a long moment, his gaze piercing. Both men felt a cold sweat break
out across their necks.

“Are you—” Hotch started, his voice lowering.

“Never mind,” he said, cutting himself off. Reid and Morgan knew exactly what he was
thinking but didn’t dare to ask.

“See you tomorrow,” Hotch said, his tone neutral, as he gently guided his wife away.

The two agents stood frozen for a moment longer. Morgan let out a long sigh.

“This is not good.”

Reid, wide-eyed, murmured, “I think we’ll be called to his office tomorrow.”

***

The next morning, Morgan and Reid were summoned to Hotch’s office. Both of them
entered, looking visibly nervous.

JJ and Emily exchanged curious glances from their desks. Emily mouthed to JJ, “Are they in
trouble?” JJ shrugged, gesturing “I don’t know.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the tension as he looked up at the two agents.

“Are you two involved romantically?”

“No,” both replied in unison, their answers immediate and firm.

Hotch leaned forward, clearly not convinced. “Then what were you doing yesterday at the
mall—holding hands and sharing a scarf?”

Morgan shifted uncomfortably. “We were just, um... playing.” he said.

Reid glanced at his friend’s deadpan expression. The absurdity of the situation started to sink
in, and he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Reid, it’s not funny,” Hotch said sternly.

“Sorry.” Reid bit his lip, struggling to suppress the smirk.

“You both are federal agents. Be careful what you do in public. You don’t know who might
be watching.”

“Yeah, like you did.”

“Reid…”

“Statistically speaking, with the population density of this area, it’s actually pretty rare to
bump into a colleague in a shopping mall. And given the size of the mall, the probability is
approximately—”

“Reid!”

“Sorry.”
Hotch let out a sigh. “All right. You may go now.”

As they exited Hotch’s office, Morgan gave Reid a playful elbow to the stomach.

“Ow!!” Reid exaggerated the impact.

“No more undercover operations with you.”

“Not a chance.”

They shook their heads and chuckled.

“What are you guys laughing about?” Emily asked, clearly relieved to see them in good
spirits.

“Yeah, what undercover operation?” JJ chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“Morgan wanted to play husbands with me, so we…” Reid started, but Morgan quickly cut
him off.

“Oh, shut up, Reid.” Morgan grabbed the back of Reid’s neck and gave him a gentle tug,
making him yelp, “Ahh!”

“Hey, hey, hey, boys. Stop flirting. Do it in private.” Emily teased with a grin and JJ laughed
along.
 Tobias Hankel’s Case
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 2, Episode 15, Tobias Hankel’s case.
It's February 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 33 years old.

“Come on, Derek, they found JJ.”

Morgan sprinted toward the shed with Emily, finding JJ in a daze. Two dead dogs lay nearby,
and JJ seemed to be in a trance.

“JJ, where’s Reid?” Morgan asked urgently.

JJ mumbled repeatedly about the dogs, so Emily stepped forward, trying to focus her
attention. “JJ, look at me. Where is Reid?”

JJ started to mention which direction Reid had gone, but before she could finish, Morgan
bolted outside, with Emily close behind him.

After scanning the area, Emily rejoined Morgan, her expression tight with worry. “Any sign
of him?”

“I think Reid followed Hankel into the cornfield,” Morgan said, his gaze hardening as he
studied the ground. “Looks like someone was dragged.” He closed his eyes for a moment,
exhaling sharply, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Derek, are you all right?” Emily asked.

“No,” Morgan replied, his tone tight with barely contained emotion.

***

The team spent the night at Tobias Hankel’s house, taking shifts to rest. Morgan refused to
sleep, instead staying outside, primarily in the cornfield, searching for any trace of Reid.
Finally, Hotch gave him an ultimatum: if he couldn’t follow orders, he’d be sent back to the
office.

Morgan could feel his exhaustion creeping in—his body and mind were on the edge.
Reluctantly, he forced himself to sleep for a few hours.

As he dozed off, he found himself back in the cornfield, searching desperately for Reid. The
rustling of the grass was interrupted by a faint, raspy, high-pitched sound—was it a whistle?
A whistle.

The memory hit him like a jolt: he had given Reid a whistle, teasing him to use it if he ever
needed help. He recalled Reid’s sulky expression, still vivid in his mind.

Morgan strained, his heart pounding as he tried to catch the sound again. There it was, faint
but unmistakable!

Reid was calling for him.

“I’m coming. Reid, I’m coming,” he murmured, desperation flooding through him.

He ran through the cornfield, calling out, “Reid, I’m coming…”

“Morgan. Morgan!”

Morgan jerked awake, his body slick with sweat and his breathing erratic. Hotch stood over
him, shaking his shoulder. “You were dreaming.”

Morgan sat up, disoriented, heart still racing. “Are you okay?” Hotch asked, his voice soft
with concern.

“Did you find Reid?” Morgan asked, his voice strained.

“No.”

“Any clues?”

“Not yet. Try to sleep some more.”

Morgan shook his head, his mind racing. “I don’t think I can.”

***

The entire team was running on fumes, the weight of exhaustion and tension hanging in the
air like a thick fog.

Morgan spoke only when it was necessary for the case, his brows furrowed in concentration,
his fists clenched tightly at his sides. No one dared approach him. Hotch, though concerned
about Morgan’s emotional state, knew there was little he could do to ease his tention.

Garcia was working furiously on Hankel’s computers when Morgan entered the room.

“Anything?”

“Not yet, but I’m trying…”

Suddenly, all the screens went black.

“What happened?” Morgan demanded, his voice sharp.

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered, eyes glued to the monitors.

Then the screens flickered back to life, and every monitor displayed Reid, tied to a chair.

“Oh my God,” Garcia whispered, her voice trembling.

Morgan shouted to the other members outside the room, “Guys! Guys! Get in here!”

As the others rushed into the room, Emily’s breath caught. “He’s been beaten.”

JJ’s voice was urgent. “Can’t you track him?”

“Hankel’s only streaming this to his home computer,” Garcia replied, her hands shaking over
the keyboard.

Morgan felt a surge of relief as he saw Reid’s chest rise and fall—he was alive. But the relief
was fleeting as he assessed Reid’s condition. The head injury was severe, blood oozing from
his left ear. His clothes were disheveled, one sock missing—clear signs of torture.

Morgan clenched his jaw, fury bubbling up inside him. Reid had never been trained to
dissociate, and it was obvious that his mind was fully present, enduring every single blow.

Grimacing, Morgan looked away, unable to stomach the sight.

“This is just for us. He knows we’re here.” Gideon murmured.

“I’m gonna put this guy’s head on a stick,” Morgan growled, his voice seething with rage.

Then Tobias Hankel appeared on the screen. The agents watched in tense silence as the
interaction unfolded.

“You really see inside men’s minds?” Hankel’s voice was low and threatening. “Choose one
to die. I’ll let you choose one to live.”

“No,” Reid replied weakly, his voice barely audible.

“I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior,” Hankel sneered.

“You’re a sadist in a psychotic break. You won’t stop killing. Your words aren’t true.”

“The other heathens are watching. Choose a sinner to die.”

“I won’t choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a
poacher.” Reid’s voice was weak but determined.

Hankle’s hands gripped Reid’s shoulders, and he yanked him up, yelling in his face, “Can
you really see into my mind, boy?! Can you see I’m not a liar?!”

Reid shut his eyes. Morgan, unable to watch any longer, stood frozen behind the others, his
body trembling with helplessness.
“Choose one to die, or they’re all dead!” Hankel shouted, dropping Reid back into the chair
with force.

Morgan slammed his fist into the door, the sound of it reverberating through the room.
Without another word, he stormed out.

***

Morgan was pouring himself a cup of coffee when JJ approached.

“I thought you were going to get some rest,” Morgan said, not looking at her.

JJ shrugged. “It’s funny, but I keep thinking the one thing we need to crack this case is…
Reid.”

“Yeah,” Morgan muttered, nodding before walking away.

“You think Reid and I should have stayed together in the barn, don’t you?”

“JJ, go get some rest.”

“I can tell that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I just want to get Reid home safe.”

Morgan walked away.

JJ stood there, devastated. She had never seen Morgan like this before. He had always been
the one who comforted and reassured others, but now, he was distant.

Morgan knew JJ was overwhelmed with guilt, blaming herself more than anyone else. But in
that moment, he couldn’t find the strength to comfort her. All that mattered was getting Reid
back safely.

***

The screens flickered back on, live-streaming Reid’s torture.

“Confess!” Hankel screamed, striking Reid across the face repeatedly.

Hankel slammed Reid’s chair to the floor. As Reid’s back hit the ground, his body began to
jerk uncontrollably. After a few agonizing seconds of convulsions, he gasped for air and fell
unconscious.

“Oh my God, he’s killing him,” Garcia’s voice trembled.

Morgan re-entered the room just as Hankel was resuscitating Reid. The sight drained him of
everything—his spirit, his strength. It felt like he couldn’t fight anymore.

Hotch glanced over at Morgan, standing in the back of the room, as if he were a child hiding
behind his parents. He was too terrified to approach the screens. Morgan’s face was strained,
his eyes on the verge of tears. Hotch had never seen him so vulnerable, so afraid.

When Reid regained consciousness, Hankel’s voice cut through the silence. “Choose one to
die.”

“What?” Reid rasped, barely able to comprehend.

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

The agents watched breathlessly, their hearts pounding.

“Kill me,” Reid said, his voice desperate, pleading.

“Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No,” Reid refused.

Hankel fired a shot at Reid’s forehead. The gun clicked—the chamber was empty.

“Choose,” Hankel demanded.

“I won’t do it.”

Another shot. Empty again.

“Choose.”

This time, Reid hesitated. His eyes flickered. He wet his lips before slowly gathering himself.
It was clear he was formulating a plan, preparing to send a message to the team, even if it
meant playing along with Hankel’s game. Carefully, he began.

“I choose… Aaron Hotchner. He’s a classic narcissist. He thinks he’s better than everyone
else on the team. Genesis 23:4, ‘Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity,
falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.’”

It was a clue.

The agents scrambled to the other room, searching the Bible for confirmation.

“He’s in the cemetery.”

***

In the end, Reid saved himself. Seizing a moment of opportunity while Hankel was distracted
by the approaching flashlights, Reid grabbed Hankel’s gun and pulled the trigger, ending the
nightmare.

When the team reached him, Morgan was the fourth or fifth person to embrace Reid. The
younger man smelled of blood, sweat, and gunpowder. Reid didn’t show any particular
emotion toward him. After all, he hadn’t been calling for Morgan specifically.
But that didn’t matter. Reid was alive, and he was safe. For Morgan, nothing else mattered.

As the team began to gather themselves, Morgan swore to himself that he would never let
anything like this happen to Reid again. Reid needed rest and time to heal, and Morgan was
determined to be by his side every step of the way.

***

After washing up and changing, Morgan went straight to the hospital to see Reid. The nurse
informed him that Hotch and Gideon had just left and would return in the morning. It was
close to midnight, and the room was dimly lit, but Reid was awake.

“Morgan. Hi,” Reid rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, kid,” Morgan replied softly.

He reached out, gently brushing Reid’s hair back before sitting down beside him.

“I’m afraid to close my eyes,” Reid whispered.

“Reid, I’ll be here the whole time you’re sleeping,” Morgan reassured him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

A moment of silence passed before Reid spoke again. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Morgan took Reid’s hand in his own and kissed it gently. “Of course.”

“And… can you keep talking to me?”

“What should I talk about?”

“Anything.”

Morgan hesitated, trying to find the right words to soothe him. “Hmm, let me think. Okay—
when I was seven years old, I found out Santa wasn’t real. I snuck into my dad’s study
and…”

Morgan launched into a story from his childhood, his voice calm and steady, drawing Reid
away from the horrors of Tobias Hankel’s shed. Gradually, the tension in Reid’s body eased.
He drifted off to sleep, his breathing slow and even.

Morgan watched him for a while, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over him. Reid
looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and Morgan silently vowed again to protect him no matter
what. He kissed Reid’s hand again, then rested his head on the bed.
A few hours later, Reid’s body jerked suddenly, and his hand slipped from Morgan’s grasp.
Startled, Morgan woke up immediately.

“Reid, you okay?”

Reid’s wide eyes stared at the ceiling, unseeing. For a moment, he seemed lost, trapped in his
own mind. Then his gaze shifted to Morgan, recognition dawning.

“Morgan…”

“Reid, you’re safe. You’re in a hospital, remember?”

Reid sat up abruptly, tears spilling down his face as he tried to muffle his sobs with his hands.
Without a word, Morgan wrapped him in a firm embrace, stroking his back gently.

“It’s okay, kid,” Morgan murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’ll protect you, okay?
I’ll protect you.”

Reid nodded, clinging to Morgan as though he were a lifeline.

Over the next few days, the routine became familiar. Other members of the BAU visited Reid
during the day, offering comfort in their own ways. Morgan always came later, after going
home to shower and pack for the next day.

They caught up on the day’s events, and when bedtime arrived, Morgan would hold Reid’s
hand and tell him a story—simple, comforting tales to keep the nightmares at bay.

Whenever Reid woke in the middle of the night, shaking or crying, Morgan was there to hold
him until he felt safe again.
 Irritation
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 2, Episide 17, after Tobias Hankel’s
Case.
It's February 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 33 years old.

Three and a half hours.

That was all the sleep Spencer Reid managed to get last night.

Still, he was relieved it was finally morning. He dragged himself out of bed, slipped on his
thick glasses, and headed to the bathroom.

The reflection staring back at him was far from encouraging—dark circles under his eyes, dry
skin, and disheveled hair. He looked terrible, and he knew it.

With a resigned sigh, Reid set to work. He shaved, washed his face, combed his hair, and put
in his contact lenses, each motion feeling more like a chore than a routine.

Rummaging through his messenger bag, his fingers brushed against two small vials—
Dilaudid, the ones he’d taken from Hankel’s pocket. His grip tightened for a moment before
he shoved them back into the depths of the bag and stepped into the biting winter air.

He was 30 minutes late to work. Again. By the time he arrived, the rest of the team was
already gathered around the round table.

Reid grabbed a coffee and slipped into the meeting room just as JJ was presenting the latest
case photos. The others glanced at him but no one said a word.

Only Morgan’s gaze lingered. It was the third time this week. Morgan watched as Reid sank
into a chair, his demeanor sharper than usual.

The young genius had always been an enigma, his brilliance paired with quirks that often left
him misunderstood. He missed social cues, and his rapid-fire intellect sometimes bordered on
bluntness, even rudeness. But this—this was different.

Reid was irritated. Constantly. His sassy remarks, once endearing, now carried a biting edge.
He snapped at colleagues, fidgeted restlessly, and seemed perpetually on edge.
Morgan leaned back in his chair, concern tugging at him. What had happened to the shy,
kind-hearted Reid they all loved? The one whose awkward ramblings, quirky habits, and
occasional sassy remarks endeared him to the whole team?

Hotch’s voice broke through Morgan’s thoughts.

“We’re looking for a homicidal serial criminal operating in a neighborhood already rife with
crime. The challenge will be distinguishing him from the rest.”

***

On the FBI private jet, the team dove into the details of the case. Reid talked rapidly.

“The unsub uses blitz attacks, which means he most likely lacks the interpersonal skills
needed to coerce his victims into coming close. And he also used the element of surprise,
which means he may have stalked his victims prior to killing them.”

Hotch and Gideon planned to visit the latest crime scene.

“I’ll map out the area,” Reid volunteered. “See if I can find any places the victims would
have visited in the neighborhood.”

“Good idea,” Emily chimed in. “I’ll help you with that.”

“I can handle it,” Reid said curtly, not meeting her gaze.

The room fell silent. Emily blinked, caught off guard.

“I wasn’t suggesting you couldn’t.”

“Isn’t that what ‘I’ll help you with it’ implies?” he retorted.

Before Morgan could intervene, Hotch said, “Reid, Prentiss will help you with the
geographical profiling of victimology.”

“Fine,” Reid muttered with a dismissive tone, as if to say, “Whatever.”

Reid’s irritation lingered. He scratched his neck frequently, snapped at the sound of
construction nearby, and spoke with a bluntness that put others on edge.

Emily was worried about the young agent. They weren’t the closest friends, but there was
something about him—his quirks, his vulnerability—that made her treat him like a younger
brother. Since his discharge from the hospital, though, Reid had been snapping at her more
often. But as an older sister—11 years his senior—Emily was patient, brushing off each jab
of attitude like an older sister putting up with her younger sibling's frustration.

At the homeless shelter, Reid’s sharp edges showed. He was blunt with Angie, a case
manager, suggesting the unsub might be among the people there. His words made the room
tense, and Angie looked unsettled. Before Emily could step in, Reid walked out, leaving her
to apologize.
Outside, Prentiss finally confronted Reid.

“What the hell was that in there?”

“What?”

“‘He may even be in this room as we speak’? We have nothing to support that!”

“We’re investigating a serial homicide. Should I have pretended there was no danger?”

“You just made her afraid of every man who walks into that shelter!”

“Until we find the unsub, how is that a bad thing?”

Emily’s frustration boiled over as she took in Reid’s cold tone.

“What is the matter with you?”

“What do you mean, what’s the matter with me?” Reid’s voice rose, defensive and edged.

“I’ve never seen you act like this.”

“Oh, really! Oh, in the, in the months that you’ve known me, you’ve never seen me act this
way?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “No offense, Emily, but you don’t really know what
you’re talking about, do you?”

Before she could respond, Reid turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Emily standing
there, stunned.

***

Back in the meeting room, Morgan approached Reid, his expression stern.

“Reid. Why are you treating Prentiss like that?”

“Like what?” Reid replied, shoving papers into his bag without meeting Morgan’s gaze.

“You're acting like a total jerk. She doesn't deserve that.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Reid muttered.

“Reid, stop being a child, man!”

Reid froze, then turned sharply to face Morgan.

“What, now you’re my father or something?”

Morgan’s voice hardened. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you because you never
tell anyone, but your actions are affecting the whole team. Act like a professional.”

Reid pressed his lips together as he grabbed his bag and tried to walk away.
“Reid! Don’t just walk away.”

Morgan caught Reid’s wrist, but he snapped, “Back off, Morgan!”

The outburst only fueled Morgan’s frustration. His grip tightened as he pulled Reid back,
leaning in close.

“Don’t talk to me like that, kid. And I am not backing off,” Morgan said, his voice low and
threatening.

Reid flinched, his eyes flickering with a flash of fear. Morgan immediately loosened his hold,
guilt crashing over him. He stepped back, his hand dropping away.

Reid rubbed his wrist, glaring at Morgan with anger that burned away the fear. Without
another word, he turned and stormed out.

For the rest of the day—and even on the flight back—Reid and Morgan avoided each other,
their silence heavy and unresolved.

***

Later that evening, Reid arrived home feeling completely drained. The argument with
Morgan replayed in his mind, each moment weighing on him.

He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, still upset. Morgan needs to apologize to me, he thought
stubbornly. But as his anger ebbed, a deeper realization crept in. Morgan’s actions, though
harsh, had come from a place of concern.

Reid sighed, the fight draining out of him. He missed Morgan. When he let go of his anger,
things became clearer. He had been snapping at everyone lately, and it wasn’t their fault.
Since being forcibly injected with dilaudid in the last case, he’d been struggling with mood
swings, insomnia, and constant headaches. The stress had been building, and he’d taken it out
on the people who cared about him.

He knew he owed apologies to both Emily and Morgan. Deciding to start with Morgan, Reid
nervously picked up his phone and dialed his number.

“Hey, Reid?” Morgan’s voice was gentle.

“Morgan, hey... I, uh... I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Reid said, his voice tight with
nerves.

“Yeah, me too. And that’s why I’m here.”

“What?”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Reid opened the door to find Morgan standing there in a
leather jacket, looking uncharacteristically shy.
“I came to apologize in person,” Morgan said softly. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I shouldn’t
have grabbed you like that—it wasn’t right.”

Reid nodded, his gaze dropping. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or
told you to back off.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not backing off,” Morgan said with a smile, and he slowly pulled Reid
into a warm, reassuring hug.

“So... are we good?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Reid replied quietly.

“Alright, see you tomorrow, kid.”

Reid nodded, feeling relieved.

***

The next day, Reid arrived at work earlier than usual. Emily was already at her desk, typing
away.

“Emily,” he said softly.

She looked up, smiling warmly. “Reid. Hi.”

He hesitated, lips pressing together as he tried to gather the courage to speak. When their
eyes met, her expression was so kind, so forgiving, that it nearly undid him. He opened his
mouth to apologize, but instead, tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reid, no,” Emily said, startled. She stood quickly and wrapped her arms around him.
“Don’t cry. Come here.”

Her embrace was comforting, and she smelled faintly of roses.

“I’m sorry,” Reid managed, his voice shaky.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Emily soothed, gently stroking his back.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, the words coming out in a whisper.

“I know you are. I know,” she said softly, her voice steady as she held him.

After a moment, she pulled back and lightly tapped his cheek. Her own eyes were glistening
with unshed tears.

“Lunch with me today?” she offered, her tone lighter. “I’ve been wanting to take you to this
bakery I found.”

Reid gave a small smile. “Sure.”

“Also,” Emily added, holding up a finger, “my niece is into Artemis Fowl and wants to know
about quantum physics. I figured you could give me a crash course to impress her.”

Reid frowned slightly, tilting his head. “I don’t know how much of quantum physics I can
explain in an hour. The concepts are abstract and often counterintuitive. They rely heavily on
mathematical modeling to accurately describe phenomena like wave-particle duality—”

“Reid. Reid,” Emily interrupted, laughing softly.

“What?”

“Not now,” she said, shaking her head affectionately.

 Dilaudid
Chapter Notes

This story takes place sometime toward the end of season2.

Dr. Spencer Reid was no stranger to the dark corners of the internet. As a federal agent, he
understood how illegal online pharmacies operated. These shadowy businesses bypassed
safeguards, filling orders without requiring prescriptions. They hired doctors to glance at
brief medical questionnaires, ignoring the potential dangers. They didn’t care if their
customers were addicts, underage, or at risk of complications.

It was a Monday evening when the package arrived. Inside was a bottle of Dilaudid tablets.
Reid’s chest tightened as he placed the bottle on the coffee table. He stared at it, his mind
racing. Restlessly, he touched his chin with his right hand, clenched into a fist.

He was unraveling. The irritation, insomnia, and flashbacks were relentless. Pretending to
recover at work drained him, but taking time off meant facing the memories head-on—the
torture, the helplessness, the pain. He felt trapped, balancing on the edge of a knife.

Tonight was no different. The flashbacks hit like a tidal wave. He could taste the metallic
tang of blood, see the dim lamp swaying above him, and hear the chilling click of a gun being
cocked inches from his head. He felt the searing pain as a hammer struck his ankle, the
crushing force of fists against his face, the violent jolt of his body slamming to the floor. His
back hit the ground with a brutal force, and his body seized, convulsing before he lost
consciousness.

His hand trembled as he picked up the bottle. Without thinking further, he swallowed a pill.

The relief wasn’t immediate. There was no rush of euphoria. But in twenty minutes, the
darkness began to lift. The flashbacks faded, the air around him became less suffocating,
lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, Reid fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

In the days that followed, Reid figured out the timing, the pacing, and the dosage. Putting up
the façade at work was easier now. His recovery might not be real, but it was getting easier to
convince everyone—himself included. For the moment, that was enough.
 Hyperventilation
Chapter Notes

This story takes place toward the end of season 2. Reid’s drug problem continues. It's
March 2007.

Reid made a conscious effort to keep his dilaudid intake as low as possible, despite the
constant craving for its euphoric high and the deep sense of relaxation it provided. He took
just enough to get through each day.

He had memorized every section of the drug manual: statistics, causes and risk factors of
addiction, signs and symptoms, effects, co-occurring disorders, withdrawal, and overdose.

[Prolonged dilaudid abuse leads to a range of negative effects, including symptoms of

withdrawal:

-Trouble breathing
-Twitching or spasms
-Fatigue
-Lightheadedness
-Confusion
-Severely constricted pupils
-Insomnia
-Depressed mood]

Reid took a pill before work, at lunch, and again at 4 p.m., maintaining a relatively high and
relaxed state throughout the day at work. After work, he resisted taking any additional doses,
enduring as long as he could.

By nightfall, he was a wreck. His hands shook uncontrollably, and waves of depression and
helplessness overwhelmed and suffocated him.

The most agonizing symptom was difficulty breathing. Reid paced the room, obsessively
focusing on his breathing, tugging at his shirt around his chest. He opened a window and
leaned against the wall, inhaling the night air. If that didn’t help, he stepped outside.

Drinking water terrified him, as he feared holding his breath even for a second. The same fear
prevented him from washing his face. Taking a shower was a nightmare; the enclosed space
heightened his anxiety. He meticulously avoided getting water on his face, but the breathing
difficulties were inevitable.
He experienced hyperventilation twice, both times in the shower. He began breathing rapidly,
yanked the shower curtain open, and gasped for air. His heart raced, and a sharp pain pierced
his chest. He felt unbearably short of breath. The more he panicked, the more he felt himself
suffocating.

***

“You gonna tell me why you missed that flight to Galveston?” Morgan asked, standing beside
Reid as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“I already told you, there was no cell reception.”

“Right,” Morgan said with a dry tone.

“What?”

“Reid, any time you want to come up with a better answer, I’m standing right here.”

Reid sighed. “It’s... not important anymore.”

Morgan studied him for a moment before deciding to let it slide—for now. But he wasn’t
done with him.

“Also,” Morgan began again, his tone more probing this time.

Reid added sugar to his coffee, his movements stiff with annoyance. “What now?”

“Why are you avoiding physical contact from everyone?”

“Am I?” Reid asked, not meeting Morgan’s gaze.

“Reid.”

Morgan suddenly moved as if to give him a hug.

Reid instinctively leaned back, his body jerking away.

“This is what I’m talking about. Is it the germaphobia thing getting worse?”

“No. It’s just...” Reid hesitated, his hands stilled mid-motion, his brow furrowing. “Do I
smell bad?”

“Huh? No. Why?”

Reid sighed deeply and pressed his lips together before wetting them nervously. Then, in a
soft voice, he confessed, “I haven’t been able to take a shower for a while now.”

Morgan blinked. “What? Why?”

“It’s been a week,” Reid glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby. “I’m afraid of
water. When my face touches it, I feel like I’m drowning. I start to panic and... overbreathe.”
“Overbreathe? You mean... you hyperventilate?”

“Yeah...” Reid rubbed one hand over the other anxiously. “But I can wash from the waist
down. I wipe my face and use waterless shampoo.”

Morgan’s expression darkened as he remembered how Reid had gulped water earlier like it
was poison. “Are you having trouble drinking water, too?”

“Yes...” Reid said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I get nervous just thinking about having
to hold my breath to drink it.”

Morgan stared at him, his worry etched on his face.

“I can drink coffee, though. Especially at work, where I’m distracted. It’s harder when I’m
alone in my apartment. I know severe hyperventilation can make me lose consciousness, and
I’m scared it might happen when I’m alone.”

“Do you know what’s causing this?”

“The flashbacks... I remember losing consciousness when I fell to the floor. And... the fear of
death.”

Morgan's frown deepened as his concern became more apparent. Reid felt a pang of guilt for
omitting the dilaudid, but he reassured himself it wasn’t a lie—just not the whole truth.

“If I stay at your apartment, do you think you could take a shower? You can call me if a panic
attack happens,” Morgan offered.

Reid considered it for a moment, then nodded tentatively. “Maybe.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by your place after work.”

***

Morgan rang the doorbell to apartment #23 on the second floor. Reid opened the door quietly,
his plaid flannel shirt making him look like a college student.

Morgan had been here several times before. Reid's apartment had a classic, timeless feel. The
walls were a soft avocado green, complementing the brown leather couch with orange
pillows. Two large red floor rugs, each with a unique pattern, added warmth to the space. A
wooden coffee table sat in front of the couch, and nearby was a leather armchair positioned
under a reading lamp. A wooden desk was cluttered with papers and books, and a bookcase
full of books stood against one wall, with even more books stacked neatly on the floor.

Morgan often found himself drawn to the books, wondering what they revealed about Reid’s
mind. His eyes landed on a book on the coffee table, its pages marked with several
bookmarks. The title caught his attention: Diophantine Equations. Whatever that was, he
thought.

“Um... Morgan... I’m going to take a shower,” Reid said, his voice a bit awkward.
“Okay. Remember, I’m right here. Keep the door open if you’re worried.”

“Okay.” Reid disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the apartment. Morgan flipped through
the book, a mix of amusement and admiration on his face as he tried to make sense of the
pages filled with numbers and symbols.

Some pages were marked with Reid’s pencil notes, like ‘(|x0|, |y0|) ≤ B, (x0, y0)’ or
‘Matiyasevich's theorem.’ Morgan shook his head in awe, having no idea what any of it
meant.

The sound of water stopped abruptly. Morgan glanced at his watch. It hadn't even been five
minutes. Then, a strained voice reached him from the bathroom.

“M... Morgan! Can’t breathe! I can’t breathe...!”

“Reid!!” Morgan rushed to the bathroom. Reid was crouched in the tub, gripping the edge
and breathing in rapid, shallow gasps. Morgan quickly wrapped a towel around him and
placed a hand gently on his back.

“Reid, breathe slowly. Slowly,” Morgan urged, his voice calm but insistent.

But it wasn’t working. Reid’s breathing only became more erratic, like rapid, uneven hiccups.

“Reid, listen to me. You know this is a panic attack, right? Nothing is wrong with you. Let’s
try nostril breathing, okay? Purse your lips and breathe through your nose.”

Reid closed his mouth, but his chest swelled and he gasped for air.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Try again. Don’t hold your breath. Breathe through your nose, slowly,”
Morgan reassured him.

Reid tried again, but his chest continued to rise and shake, and the panic persisted.

“Okay, okay. Let’s try abdominal breathing. Breathe into your belly, not your chest. Here,”
Morgan gently placed his hand on Reid’s abdomen. “Breathe into here.”

Immediately, Reid’s breathing slowed.

“Good boy. You’re doing good.”

Reid’s breathing evened out, his shoulders relaxing as he gradually calmed. Morgan let out a
sigh of relief and kissed Reid’s head lightly. He then picked up the towel that had fallen,
wrapping it around Reid’s waist while carefully keeping his eyes averted from the young
man’s body.

“Do you want some water?”

Reid shook his head.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

Morgan helped Reid out of the tub, guiding him carefully to his feet. “I’ll be in the other
room, okay? Can you get dressed?”

Reid nodded silently.

A short while later, Reid emerged from the bathroom, looking exhausted and defeated.

“Reid... how many times has this happened so far?” Morgan asked, his voice quiet but
serious.

“This severe one... this was the third time. I have less severe episodes—just overbreathing—
for a few minutes, two to four times a day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...Since when am I supposed to tell you everything?”

Morgan sighed. “Reid, do you want to live with me for a while? Until the symptoms get
better?”

“Thank you, Morgan, but... I think I’m fine.”

“See, I don’t think you are fine, man.”

“I just... I want to be... independent.”

“Look, kid. I know you’ve been independent since you were really young—taking care of
yourself and your mom. I respect that. But sometimes, you have to learn to depend on
others.”

Reid looked away, conflicted. “I’ll... think about it.”

Living with Morgan... that was a tempting thought. Almost as tempting as a vial of dilaudid
—and nearly as dangerous. Reid couldn’t help but recall his time in the hospital. Every night,
his heart swelled quietly when Morgan arrived. Morgan would hold his hand until he drifted
to sleep, and when Reid woke in the dark hours of the night, Morgan was always there, ready
to pull him into his arms. But Reid also remembered how hard it had been when it all ended.

“Will you be okay tonight? Do you want me to stay overnight?” Morgan asked, his voice
softening.

“I think I’m okay for tonight.”

Morgan gently placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “I’ll come by again tomorrow, okay?”

Reid responded with a hesitant nod, his gaze lingering on the floor.
 Aquaphobia
Chapter Notes

It's March 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 33.

The doorbell rang.

“Hey... How are you doing?”

“Um...okay.”

Morgan couldn’t ignore the weariness etched into Reid’s features and the shadows beneath
his eyes.

“I’m glad you came,” Reid added, managing a small, tentative smile. He exhaled a barely
audible sigh of relief, but Morgan didn’t miss it.

“I’ll wash your hair today,” Morgan declared without preamble. Reid didn’t protest.

Morgan moved to sit on the floor in front of the sofa. “Sit here, Reid.”

Reid complied, crossing his legs awkwardly on the cushion beside him.

“So… let’s try out some positions,” Morgan said matter-of-factly.

“Positions?” Reid arched an eyebrow.

“Like... you on top of me, or—”

“Hey!” Morgan’s eyes widened in shock. Did I hear that right? Reid’s smirk confirmed his
ears weren’t playing tricks.

“If you’re feeling fine enough to joke like that...” Morgan began, trying to suppress the heat
rising to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Reid said, though the faint smile tugging at his lips suggested he wasn’t entirely
contrite.

Morgan shook his head, trying to refocus.

“Okay, suppose this is the edge of the tub.”

He tapped the sofa and gently guided Reid’s head back until it rested on the edge.
Reid stared at the ceiling as Morgan ran his fingers through his hair in demonstration.

“Do you think you can handle it this way?” Morgan asked.

For a moment, Reid’s face remained neutral, his breathing steady. But then, his eyes flickered
with unease, and his chest rose and fell faster. He sat up abruptly.

“I don’t like looking up. I almost had those flashbacks.”

“Okay. Let’s try something else. Turn around and rest your forehead on the edge instead.”

Reid repositioned himself, now facing the floor. Morgan ran his fingers through Reid’s hair
again, but this time, he noticed the tension in Reid’s shoulders. Morgan Placed a hand lightly
on Reid’s abdomen.

“Breathe into your belly. Remember?”

After a few moments, Reid’s shoulders stilled, his breaths becoming deep and even.

“Good. Just like that.”

Reid lifted his head slightly, “This might work better.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Morgan announced, rolling up his sleeves.

After preparing a towel, Morgan turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before gently
wetting Reid’s hair.

“You doing okay?”

“Yes.”

Morgan lathered shampoo between his hands before working it into Reid’s soft, brown hair.
His fingers moved in firm, soothing circles, massaging Reid’s scalp. Reid let out a contented
sigh, his whole body relaxing. Morgan couldn’t help but smile.

As he continued, Morgan’s gaze drifted to the nape of Reid’s neck. He swallowed hard. I
want to kiss it, a voice whispered in his mind. Startled, he shook his head slightly. What the
hell was that?

“I’ll rinse now, okay?” he said, trying to shake off the thought.

“Mmm.” Reid hummed in reply, his eyes closed.

Morgan turned the showerhead back on and carefully rinsed out the suds. Throughout, he
kept up a steady stream of reassurances.

“Almost done. Breathe into your tummy. You’re doing great. Just a little more...”

Finally, Morgan turned off the water, wrapping a towel around Reid’s head. He held Reid’s
face for a moment as he smiled.
“There.”

Reid’s eyes dropped shyly to the floor as he murmured, “Thank you.”

Then he stretched his shoulders and turned his head side to side. A satisfied sigh escaped him
as he felt clean and refreshed.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Morgan said. “It shouldn’t take as long next time.”

He glanced at the time. “All right, I’m off.”

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this for me?”

Morgan paused, “Do I need a reason?”

Reid shrugged, though his eyes searched Morgan’s face for an answer.

Morgan hesitated, then said, “After the Tobias Hankel’s case, do you remember I told you I’d
protect you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I meant it.”

Morgan said, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering.

Reid looked away, his cheeks flushing faintly as he smiled. “That’s so... Morgan of you.”

Morgan chuckled softly. “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
 Rambling
Chapter Notes

It's March 2007.

For the next few days, Morgan continued to stop by Reid’s apartment after work. Reid
assured him he was fine, but Morgan wouldn’t back down. He insisted on helping Reid wash
his hair for a few more days, hoping it would help him get used to water before attempting a
full shower. After witnessing Reid’s panic attack and severe hyperventilation, Morgan wasn’t
willing to take any chances.

On Friday, Morgan arrived later than usual.

“Sorry I’m late. Overtime.”

He flopped onto the sofa and exhaled deeply.

“Do you want tea or something?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Let’s see... I’ve got chamomile, lemon ginger, peppermint, jasmine, and green tea.”

“Hmm... which one do you recommend?”

“Definitely green tea. It has a perfect balance of caffeine and an amino acid called theanine,
which has a calming effect. Theanine helps balance the energy from the caffeine, making the
effect smoother than coffee.”

“Mmm...”

While Reid was enthusiastically talking about green tea, Morgan looked utterly drained.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, no, I like it. Keep rambling.”

Reid shot him a puzzled look but resumed, setting water to boil. “...Um...okay, studies
suggest drinking 3 to 4 cups of green tea throughout the day can help reduce fatigue and
stress. Theanine relaxes muscle tension, lowers blood pressure, and even alters brain activity
to increase alpha waves.”

--Silence--
“Morgan?”

Morgan was asleep on the couch, completely at ease.

“Wow.”

Reid chuckled softly.

“You’re the first person to use my rambling as a lullaby.”

A few minutes later, Reid decided to take a shower. His aquaphobia was improving; he could
drink water without difficulty, wash himself from the shoulders down, and even wash his face
in the sink most mornings.

He turned on the water, exhaled, and began washing his body. Afterward, he closed his eyes
and wet his hair. The moment the water touched his face, his heart skipped a beat, but his
breathing remained steady. Morgan’s here, he repeated silently as he washed his hair.
Morgan’s here.

When he came out of the bathroom, Morgan was awake and standing by the wall.

“Sorry I fell asleep. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you wash your hair, too?”

Morgan touched Reid’s damp, brown hair.

“Good job, Dr. Reid.”

Morgan smiled, teasingly.

“I think I’m really fine now. You don’t have to come by anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Reid reassured him.

“Reid, if you relapse, don’t hide it from me, okay? It happens. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Just then, Morgan’s phone beeped.

“What's up, baby girl?”

Reid raised an eyebrow, “Garcia?” He whispered. Morgan nodded.

“I’m at Reid’s.”

“Just hanging out.”

Morgan chuckled.

“No, Garcia, we are not making out.”

“Yes, we’re both fully clothed. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Morgan glanced at Reid and shook his head.

“He’s fine. He’s frowning at this conversation.”

“Tomorrow? Um, sure. Let me ask Reid.”

Reid scratched his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“Reid, do you want to go watch movies with Garcia tomorrow?”

“Movie? Which one?”

“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.”

Reid’s face lit up.

“Sure. I’ll go.”

“We’ll both join you, baby girl. And you better get that image out of your head before you
see us. Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Morgan shook his head, laughing.

“What image?”

“Um... you don’t wanna know.”

“What? Tell me.”

“You and me, naked, making out in bed.”

Reid’s eyes widened, blinked twice, and then frowned.

“How can she imagine that? She’s never seen me naked.”

...That’s not the point, Morgan thought, but instead he said, “She’s a very imaginative girl,
our Penny G.”

***
Garcia told Morgan and Reid that Emily would be joining them, so they waited by the ticket
counter. Morgan and Garcia silently prayed for Emily’s quick arrival—Reid’s nonstop
rambling was starting to make their ears ache.

“Did you know the first official foreign translation of the book appeared in Vietnamese on
July 21, 2003, with the first of twenty-two installments? The first European translation was
Serbian, in early September 2003. The English version topped bestseller lists in France, but
in Germany and the Netherlands, unofficial translations started popping up online.”

You’re going to shut up once we’re inside, right?” Morgan asked, pinching the bridge of his
nose.

“I thought you liked my rambling. You said so last night,” Reid replied, looking offended.

“Did I?” Morgan frowned.

“You did?” Garcia’s eyes widened as she shot Morgan a mock-stunned look.

Reid turned to her with a firm nod. “Garcia, I had to ramble about green tea to lull him to
sleep.”

Garcia gasped theatrically. “So you ARE sleeping together!”

“Garcia.” Morgan groaned, “We’re not sleeping together.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? Pretty Boy over here whispers tea facts in your ear in
bed to help you sleep!”

“He never said ‘in bed,’ and he never ‘whispered in my ear.’”

“He didn’t?”

“Garcia. You’ve got to stop imagining things.”

Just then, Emily walked toward them, saving Morgan from further torment.

“About time!” Garcia handed her a ticket. Emily glanced at it.

“138 minutes, huh? I thought it would be longer. Wasn’t Order of the Phoenix the longest
book?”

“It is—766 pages with... over 200,000 words,” Reid confirmed instantly.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Over 200,000 words? No exact number?”

“257,045 words.”

Emily pursed her lips and gave a small nod.

“Just trying to be conversational.” Reid whispered to her.

“Hmm. Not working,” she quipped, tapping Reid lightly on the cheek.

Garcia linked her arm with Reid’s and pulled him toward the concession stand. “Come on,
junior G-man, you’re getting popcorn with me.”

“Junior G-man...?” Reid mumbled, brushing stray strands of hair behind his ear as he
followed her.
 Tatoo
Chapter Notes

This story takes place right after the events of Season 2, Episode 20. It's April 2007.
Reid is 25, Morgan is 33 years old.

The team was in Baltimore, Maryland. By the time they wrapped up the case, it was past 9
p.m. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid had to stay overnight in Baltimore to meet forensic
pathologists the next day.

Once in the hotel room, Morgan quickly took a shower. The case had been mentally draining.
Natalya, the victim's daughter, turned out to be one of the unsubs. She had her boyfriend,
Lyov, kidnap her father because she wanted money. Morgan was distressed that Natalya had
fooled him. He had been assigned to protect her and spent more time with her than any other
agent. How could he have missed it? He felt he had failed as a profiler.

There was a knock on the door. Reid stood there, carrying what seemed to be a towel and
clean clothes.

“Reid.”

“Can I take a shower in your room? Just in case I have a breathing problem again. It’ll only
take five minutes.”

Without waiting for a response, Reid entered the room and quickly disappeared into the
bathroom.

“Sure,” Morgan muttered to himself.

“Morgan.”

Reid called from the bathroom, poking his head out the door.

“Can you hand me the shampoo?”

Morgan knew that taking a shower wasn’t the only reason Reid was there. He didn’t know
how, but he could always tell. Reid was worried about his friend and came to check on him.
Was it his slightly high-pitched voice? Or his demeanor that displayed both fidgetiness and
determination? The pretense of acting casual?

As he listened to the steady sound of water coming from the bathroom, he recalled the scene
from the field earlier that day when he realized he had been deceived by the unsub.
***

“How did I not see this coming?” Morgan groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Reid spoke up.

“How could any of us? She sought us out. We were so blinded by the fact that she trusted us,
we never considered not trusting her.”

Reid kept using “we” and “us,” lifting the burden that Morgan felt he was carrying alone.

***

After about ten minutes, Reid emerged from the bathroom and casually sat next to Morgan on
the small sofa. Morgan touched Reid’s hair to check if it had been washed without either of
them saying anything.

“Reid.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for having my back today.”

“Did I?”

Reid asked, though his cheeks faintly blushed.

“Are you feeling okay?” Reid asked.

“I’m okay now.”

Morgan smiled warmly. Reid mirrored it, though his attempt felt a little stiff.

Then something caught Reid’s attention. His gaze locked onto Morgan’s arm, just below the
hem of his black short sleeve. Without a word, Reid gently tugged the fabric higher, revealing
the lion tattoo inked on Morgan’s bicep.

“I read a lot about tattoos today,” he muttered to himself.

Reid leaned closer, studying the design with a focus that made Morgan’s pulse quicken.

Reid’s breath brushed against Morgan’s skin as his fingers lightly traced the lines of the lion.
Morgan’s heart began to race, but he forced himself to ignore it. Dwelling on that feeling was
a risk he couldn’t take—it might complicate their friendship in ways he wasn’t ready to face.

“A lion can signify courage, power, strength, assertiveness, and leadership,” Reid began, his
voice low and thoughtful. “Historically, ancient Egyptians revered the lion as a symbol of
balance. In Asian cultures, particularly Chinese and Japanese, it’s seen as a protector. For the
ancient Greeks and Romans, the lion symbolized nobility, often linked to deities like
Hercules.”
Reid finally looked up at Morgan. Realizing how close their faces were, Reid’s eyes widened
briefly before he quickly released Morgan’s arm.

“I don’t see you as a lion, though,” Reid said, his voice blunt but his cheeks reddening
slightly as he quickly looked away.

“What do you see me as?” Morgan asked, frowning slightly.

“You’re definitely a dog. A big, friendly one. The...uh...black retriever! Loyal and...very
cute.”

“Gee, thanks.” Morgan said sarcastically.

Reid smirked, checking the time.

“What time did Hotch say we are meeting the forensic pathologists tomorrow?”

“Nine.”

“I better go back and sleep.”

“Mm. Good night.”

“See you in the morning.”

After Reid left the room, Morgan let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head. The right
sleeve was still rolled up. He fixed the sleeve and sighed again. The lingering sensation of
Reid’s fingers on his arm felt so vivid.
 Chaplin’s Classic Reels
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 2, Episode 22.

“It technically wouldn’t really be a coincidence since the number of people sharing high-risk
traits skews the curve. See, the word coincidence implies more...”

“Kid, we don’t need a vocabulary lesson.”

“Right. Sorry.”

While Emily was on the phone, Reid murmured, “You’re so good at pretending.”

“Excuse me?”

“That you’re annoyed by me.”

Reid turned his chair around with a half-smile.

“Reid, we’re working on a case.”

The young genius raised his brows and pouted.

Three months had passed since the Tobias Hankel’s case. Morgan glanced at Reid, turning his
chair, his movements more relaxed. It seemed he was genuinely getting better.

Morgan reached out, brushing his fingers through Reid’s brown hair—a habit that had
developed after Reid’s aquaphobia. He checked to see if it was clean. Reid didn’t react; he
was used to it by now.

Morgan liked how snug and comfortable Reid looked in his soft cardigan.

“Why do you wear your watch over your cardigan?”

“Not that it’s any of your business... it saves time.”

Reid flashed a smug grin as he turned his chair.

“But you wash your hands often. Doesn’t that get your sleeves wet?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

Morgan grabbed Reid’s wrist, feeling the dampness. “It’s wet.”

“Hey! You can’t just grab me like that without my consent, man.”

“Oh, really? Last week, you tucked up my sleeve and grabbed my biceps without my
consent.”

“Boys!”

Emily’s sharp voice cut through.

“It’s your fault,” Reid whispered, and Morgan rolled his eyes.

***

After another dark, gruesome case, Gideon invited the BAU team to his office to watch old
Charlie Chaplin film reels. While waiting for Garcia and Emily, Reid’s rambling showed no
signs of stopping. He was absolutely buzzing with excitement about Chaplin.

“Did you know his full name was Charles Spencer Chaplin?”

JJ and Morgan glanced up at the sudden fact.

“Really? Wow,” JJ beamed.

“Yeah, I know,” Reid replied, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.

“Chaplin’s childhood in London wasn’t an easy one. His father was absent, and his mother
struggled financially. When he was 14, his mother was committed to a mental asylum.”

JJ and Morgan exchanged a brief glance, unsure how to respond. It sounded a lot like Reid’s
own childhood.

“Chaplin started performing young, touring music halls before becoming a stage actor and
comedian. At 19, he joined the Fred Karno company, which took him to the United States.”

Just then, Garcia and Emily arrived, disrupting Reid’s flow.

“Sorry we’re late.”

“About time,” JJ teased.

“Be nice. I come bearing chocolate,” Garcia chimed in, her voice full of cheer. “Who wants
kisses from me? Don’t be shy, young doctor.”

She tossed Hershey’s Kisses to everyone. Everyone caught one except for Reid.

“Another round! Coconut Almond. Catch it this time, boy genius!”

Garcia threw another one, but Reid missed again.

“Come on, man. Look when it’s coming,” Morgan said, trying to help.

“I am looking,” Reid shot back, his tone defiant.

“Throw it to me,” Morgan said.

Morgan caught the poorly pitched chocolate that almost flew over his head.

“Get your hands ready and watch it carefully,” he instructed.

He tossed it gently. Reid tried to catch it, but it slipped off and fell between his chest and
hands. Morgan sighed.

“Don’t lift your hands so much. Just let it land in your palms, and close them when it does.
Again.”

The chocolate slipped off again, landing on the table.

“I told you not to lift your hands.”

“I didn’t!” Reid protested.

JJ, who had been watching with sympathy, spoke up.

“Morgan, you’re sitting too far away from him. Spence, ready? Catch it.”

JJ threw it slowly, and this time Reid caught it.

“Good job,” JJ smiled.

Reid beamed back at her, while Morgan rolled his eyes.

As the movie played, Reid was fully engrossed, fascinated by the historical context and
Chaplin’s personal life, not to mention the filmmaking techniques. The other young
members, however, didn’t share his enthusiasm. Morgan and Garcia flirted back and forth,
while JJ and Emily sneakily pelted popcorn at Reid’s back. But Reid didn’t mind the noise.
He felt completely at home, surrounded by his BAU family.
 Testifying
Chapter Notes

This story takes place between the end of Season 2 and the beginning of Season 3.
It's June 2007.

[Thank you so much for reading this story! I’d love to hear your thoughts, so please feel
free to leave comments on any chapter. I’ll happily go back and read them. Interacting
with readers is such a joy, and your comments are a huge source of motivation!]

It had been a grueling, painful day for Derek Morgan—the day he testified against Carl
Buford. Only Hotch and Gideon knew the real reason he’d taken the day off.

Morgan had to recount every detail of the sexual assaults he endured as a teenager—details
that were deeply painful, ugly, and graphic—in front of a group of strangers and the very
person who had harmed him. It was excruciating.

When he returned home, Morgan shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the sofa, too
exhausted to change out of his suit. He grabbed a bottle of rum and poured himself a glass,
seeking something to dull the ache.

During his testimony, Morgan had barely been able to look at the perpetrator. His voice had
been flat, mechanical, as he read from his prepared statement. At one point, the nausea had
nearly overwhelmed him. He had been dragged back to that dark place—the pain, the fear,
the shame, the smell, even the taste, all flooding back in unbearable clarity.

Fuck...

Morgan buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the suffocating darkness that
threatened to swallow him whole. He didn’t want to see anyone—not now. But there was one
person he needed, one person he longed for. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and
dialed the number.

“Morgan?”

Reid’s voice, soft and unassuming, pierced through the fog of his mind, offering a sliver of
comfort.

“Morgan? Hello? Are you there?”

Morgan couldn’t find his voice. He swallowed hard, feeling utterly lost.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you home?”

“.....Yeah.”

“Stay there. I’ll come over.”

Reid didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

***

Reid was taken aback to see Morgan in a sharp suit. He could smell the faint trace of rum.

“What’s going on?” Reid asked, his concern clear.

“Do you want to come in first?”

They sat on the couch. Reid’s gaze drifted to the bottle of rum on the table, unease settling in
his chest.

“So, what’s going on?” Reid asked again.

Morgan sighed heavily. “I...um...I went to court today...to testify against Carl Buford.”

Reid’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Morgan.”

Morgan said nothing more, his posture slumped. Reid hesitantly put his arm around Morgan’s
shoulders.

“Thank you for coming,” Morgan muttered, his eyes focused on the floor.

Reid shifted so he could give him a proper hug. Awkwardly, but with tenderness, Reid
embraced him. The fresh, minty scent of Reid’s shampoo was a quiet comfort. The soft
strands of his brown hair brushed against Morgan’s face.

“Can you stay with me? Just for a little while?” Morgan’s voice cracked, the words more
vulnerable than he intended.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” Reid replied softly, his hand moving in slow,
comforting strokes along Morgan’s back. Morgan closed his eyes, surrendering to the gentle
solace of Reid's touch.

After some time, Morgan pulled himself together and went to take a shower. He returned
feeling slightly better, the weight in his chest easing.

The coffee table was cleared, and Reid was seated on the couch, quietly reading a book with
his legs crossed.

“You brought a book?” Morgan asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is it the... dolphin equation?”

“You mean the Diophantine Equation?” Reid chuckled, “No, I grabbed a novel. Hemingway.
Just in case you wanted me to read to you.”

Morgan felt a surge of warmth. “Can you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid hesitantly took Morgan’s hand.

Then he tried to open the book with his left hand, but it slipped and fell to the floor. Morgan
stifled a smile. This kind of thing happened a lot with Reid, especially when he was nervous.

“You don’t have to hold my hand.”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Reid insisted, picking up the book with his left hand again, only for it to
fall once more.

“It’s okay. I can recite it. I’ve read it enough times. I remember it.”

Reid took a deep breath, eyes closing as he began.

“In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river
and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry
and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels.
Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of
the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw
the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze,
falling and the soldiers marching and afterwards the road bare and white except for the
leaves.”

Morgan rested his head on Reid’s shoulder, the steady rhythm of his voice lulling him into a
quiet sleep.

***

Morgan woke in the middle of the night to the subtle movement of Reid shifting beside him.
Gently, Reid slipped his hand out of Morgan’s, placed a pillow where his shoulder had been,
and carefully lowered Morgan’s head onto it.

“Reid…”

“I’m just going to the bathroom. Lie down here—I’ll be right back,” Reid whispered.

When Reid returned, he sat beside Morgan and rolled his neck, stretching out the stiffness.

“Reid, you should rest. I’m fine now. Go sleep in my bed.”

“No, I’ll stay with you.”

Morgan hesitated, then offered, “Then let’s both sleep on the bed.”

Morgan stood and gently pulled him up by the hand.

They lay side by side on the bed, careful to keep a deliberate distance between them. The
only connection was their hands, clasped together in the quiet stillness of the night.
 Deterioration
Chapter Notes

Current situation with Reid’s drug addiction. It's July 2007.

Growing up in Las Vegas, Reid had developed a relatively high tolerance for heat, but
humidity was another matter entirely. Quantico's summer was both sweltering and stifling.

Up until now, Reid had never increased his dosage of dilaudid—four pills a day was the limit.
Whenever he felt better, he tried to reduce or skip the last dose. But as time went on, his body
began to build a tolerance, and the medication no longer provided the relief it once did. He
took the tablets merely to avoid becoming too sick.

His hand tremors were worsening. Almost every evening after work, as the effects of the
third dose wore off, his hands would begin to shake. Depression overwhelmed him at night,
making it impossible to consider skipping a dose anymore.

At home, Reid held the two vials of IV dilaudid he had taken from Tobias, which he had
never actually used.

He rolled them between his palms, the cool glass providing a steadying sensation amid the
chaos in his mind.

The faint clinking of the bottles felt like a whispered temptation. This obsessive-compulsive
ritual consumed more than ten minutes of his day lately, a private struggle he hadn’t shared
with anyone. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it under control.
 Secret
Chapter Notes

This story takes place between the end of Season 2 and the beginning of Season 3.
It's July 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 34 years old.

Reid took a sip of beer and grimaced. He never seemed to acquire the taste. JJ laughed.

“Sorry, Spence, that’s all they sell at the booth.”

Fireworks crackled in the sky. It was the Fourth of July, and while Reid typically avoided
crowded, noisy events, tonight, the distraction was welcome. He took another gulp, made a
face again.

Then, out of the blue, a wave of drowsiness hit him. His vision blurred, his legs felt weak.

A line from the drug manual flashed in his mind, sending a chill down his spine:

[Mixing alcohol with dilaudid can cause nausea, acute drowsiness, fainting, disorientation, or
loss of consciousness.]

Oh, no. No, no, no.

If he collapsed, the only person who could catch him was Morgan.

“Morgan…” His fingers curled around Morgan’s arm as he leaned into him. “I’m sleepy.”

His body sagged before he could fight it. Morgan caught him, one arm wrapping around his
waist just as Reid’s knees buckled.

“Reid?” Morgan’s voice sharpened with concern. “Hey, talk to me. You okay?”

JJ reached out, pressing a hand to Reid’s back. “What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said, checking Reid’s pulse. “He just said he was sleepy.”

Emily frowned. “Was he drinking anything else before this?”

“Not that I saw,” JJ replied.

Morgan scanned the area but found nowhere decent for Reid to rest. “I’ll grab a cab and take
him home.”

JJ and Emily exchanged worried glances but nodded.

Morgan shook Reid lightly. “Come on, Reid. Wake up for a sec.”

Reid’s eyes fluttered open.

"Get on my back and hold on."

Morgan crouched, hefting Reid onto his back with practiced ease. Once settled, he huffed out
a breath.

“Man, he’s heavier than he looks.”

“Call me once you get him home, okay?” JJ said.

Emily nodded. “Yeah, keep us posted.”

“I will,” Morgan said, adjusting his grip. “Alright, ladies. See you tomorrow.”

***

By the time they arrived at Reid’s apartment, he was awake, though still extremely groggy.
Morgan opened the door, supporting Reid by the shoulder, and guided him to the bedroom,
gently helping him sit on the bed.

“You can lie down and rest now.”

Reid didn’t move, his face pale.

“Reid, you’re shaking.”

“I... I’m okay now. Y-you can go, Morgan. Thank you for... for everything.”

Reid stood up abruptly, staggered toward the bathroom, and threw up.

“Reid, are you alright?”

“Water... please.”

Morgan quickly handed him a glass of water. Reid rinsed his mouth and spat, but Morgan
could see his hands trembling uncontrollably.

Reid couldn't hide his symptoms anymore.

(I need to take the pill.)

The thought repeated in his head.

(Go home, Morgan. Leave me alone. I just want to take the pill.)

Morgan put a hand on Reid’s back, but Reid shrugged him off. The tremor in his hands
wouldn’t stop.
“Are you cold?” Morgan asked, pressing a hand to Reid’s forehead. No fever.

Just then, Morgan’s phone vibrated, drawing his attention. It was probably Prentiss or JJ.

He picked up his phone, but quickly realized it wasn’t his. The sound was coming from
Reid’s messenger bag. Frowning, Morgan dug through the bag and pulled out the phone. The
caller ID read JJ.

“Hello?”

“Morgan?”

“Yeah.”

“I called you first. How’s Spence?”

“Not great. He threw up and now he’s shaking.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“He’s acting like he drank ten shots of tequila.”

“Maybe he was drinking something else, like Emily said?”

“We went straight from work. He wasn’t drinking anything, JJ.”

“Right…”

JJ sighed.

“Anyway, I’ll let you go back to Spence. Call me if anything happens.”

“Will do.”

Morgan hung up and placed the phone back in Reid’s bag. That’s when he saw it.

A small glass bottle.

His heart skipped a beat. Something about it felt off. He picked it up and read the label.

[Dilaudid 4mg]

Morgan felt his blood run cold, his entire body going numb with terror.

***

Reid emerged from the bathroom, a face towel in hand. Morgan stood there, his expression
grim and stern.

“Reid.”
Morgan held up the vial in front of Reid’s face.

“What is this?”

Reid’s eyes widened, and then he froze.

“Are you using drugs?”

Reid didn’t answer.

“Are you using drugs?” Morgan repeated, his voice thick with anger.

Before Reid could respond, Morgan grabbed his messenger bag, flipped it upside down, and
shook it. The contents spilled onto the bed. Morgan found another vial, along with a bottle of
dilaudid tablets.

Reid watched in horror, his breath shallow.

“Show me your arms.”

“No.”

Reid crossed his arms tightly, glaring at Morgan.

Morgan’s patience snapped. In one fluid motion, he pinned Reid’s arms to the wall, forcing
him against it. Reid struggled, his face twisted with a mix of fear and anger. Morgan fumbled
with the buttons on Reid’s left sleeve, but the resistance made it difficult.

“Morgan, you’re hurting me!” Reid’s voice cracked with strain.

“Hold still!” Morgan barked.

Frustration building, Morgan pushed Reid onto the bed. He tore at Reid’s shirt, the fabric
ripping under the pressure. Straddling Reid, Morgan yanked the sleeve off, revealing the
young man’s arm.

Reid thrashed beneath him, striking Morgan’s chest with his free arm, but the fight quickly
drained from him as exhaustion took over. His breathing became shallow, and he finally lay
still.

Morgan inspected Reid’s arm with intense scrutiny, checking his inner elbow, upper arm, and
wrist. Finding no signs of injection, he exhaled, relieved.

“Alright. The other arm.” Morgan’s voice softened, but there was no mistaking the tension.

He pulled off Reid’s shirt, leaving him in a white tank top, and repeated his inspection on the
right arm.

Without warning, Morgan began unbuckling Reid’s belt.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Reid’s voice cracked with panic.
“I’m checking your thighs.”

Reid tried to kick out, but Morgan’s weight kept him immobilized. As Morgan worked to
lower Reid’s trousers, he hooked Reid’s ankles with his own legs, ensuring he couldn’t
escape. He inspected the young man’s thighs thoroughly, his hands cold and precise.

Once he found no track marks, Morgan let out a sharp breath of relief and quickly pulled
Reid’s trousers back up.

Reid, now exhausted, lay motionless, his eyes closed.

“Fuck you, Morgan.” He muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

Morgan sat on the bed next to Reid, his eyes fixed on him as Reid slowly sat up.

“I hate you,” Reid muttered, his voice thick with bitterness.

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan replied, his tone flat.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“No.”

Reid’s frustration flared. “What the fuck, Morgan?!”

“Explain to me where you got those vials.”

Reid’s expression hardened. “No.”

Morgan leaned forward, unwavering. “Whatever you’re going through, I’ll go through with
you. So explain to me.”

“I have nothing to explain. Get the hell out.”

“If you don’t let me help, I’ll go straight to Gideon and Hotch. You’ll lose your job, but at
least you won’t lose your life.”

“I hate you.”

“You can hate me all you want.”

Morgan was defiant, his resolve unshakable.

A silence stretched between them for several long moments before Reid spoke, his voice
quiet.

“I got those vials from Tobias Hankel’s pocket.”

“How many?”
“Two. That was all he had.”

“So you haven’t used them?”

“No.”

“Reid.” Morgan’s voice was firm. “Answer me truthfully. Have you ever injected yourself?”

“No.”

“Why did you keep them in your bag?”

“It’s… OCB.”

“Obsessive-compulsive behavior?”

Reid nodded, his eyes distant. “I just… I need to feel the glass bottle in my hand.”

He mimicked holding an invisible bottle, his hand still trembling.

“Tempting,” he continued quietly, “but I know how dangerous it is to inject the drug directly
into my veins.”

“So you got tablets instead?” Morgan asked, his voice softer.

“Yes.”

“How many are you taking?”

“Four to five tablets a day.”

“So 20mg a day. That’s not too bad.”

Morgan let out a heavy sigh, rubbing between his brows as if trying to ease the weight of the
situation.

“Let’s reduce it to 12, starting today.”

Reid gave a blank nod. “Okay…”

“I’m sorry for the trouble.” Reid murmured.

“It’s okay, Reid. I know you don’t mean it.”

“What?” Reid glanced at him, confused.

“Because the biggest trouble for you right now is me.” Morgan said it almost sulkily, his
frustration evident.

Reid lifted the corners of his mouth slightly. “Right.”

He got off the bed, grabbed his torn dress shirt, and tossed it into the trash.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Morgan said.

“It’s fine,” Reid replied, his voice flat.

***

When he stepped out of the shower, Morgan was still sitting on the bed, eyes scanning the
medication information sheet from the online pharmacy.

“I know everything about Dilaudid, Morgan. You can just ask me,” Reid said.

Morgan didn’t look up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can trust you right now.”

Reid froze. The words hit him harder than he expected, knocking the air from his lungs. For a
few seconds, he couldn’t breathe. Morgan, oblivious, kept reading.

With a sigh, Morgan stood and picked up the two vials and the bottle of Dilaudid tablets.

“Reid.”

He held them up.

“Is this everything?”

Reid nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Morgan stepped closer, grabbing Reid’s arm.

“Look me in the eye.” His voice was steady, firm. “Are these all you have?”

“I said yes.”

Reid’s lips trembled. He looked away, blinking rapidly as tears slipped down his cheeks.

—I don’t think I can trust you.—

Morgan’s words echoed in his head, looping over and over until the ache in his chest was
unbearable.

Morgan exhaled and released his arm. Without another word, he shoved the bottles into his
pocket.

“I’m going home to shower. I’ll be back.”

Reid gave a tight nod. As soon as the door clicked shut behind Morgan, his composure
shattered. He collapsed onto his knees, his arms clutching his torso as sobs shook him.

—I don’t think I can trust you.—

The loss settled deep in his bones, like something irretrievable had just slipped through his
fingers. His cries were raw, unrestrained.

He didn’t hear the door burst open again.

“Reid!”

Morgan’s voice was urgent as he rushed back inside. “I heard you crying the second I stepped
out. Come on.” He crouched beside Reid, wrapping an arm around him.

“You’re coming with me. I can’t leave you alone like this.”

***

That night, Reid slept in Morgan’s bed without taking a pill, while Morgan took the couch.
The bed smelled like him—especially the pillow, steeped in the familiar scent of his cologne.

Reid breathed it in, again and again, as if it could quiet the craving in his veins.

...I’m such a creep…

He thought, but he didn’t care. He buried his face in Morgan’s pillow and let sleep take him.
 Cookies and Cologne
Chapter Notes

It's July 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 34 years old.

It was the weekend.

At Reid’s apartment, Morgan handed him a black paper gift bag.

“This is for you.”

Reid peeked inside and pulled out a dress shirt. “You bought me a dress shirt? I told you you
didn’t have to.”

Beneath it, there was a flat box. He lifted it out, his brows rising. “You bought me cookies
too?”

Reid let out an amused laugh.

“Oh, you are a good boyfriend,” Reid teased, and Morgan rolled his eyes.

Then, Morgan’s expression sobered. “Reid... I’m sorry for the other night.”

“You mean for pushing me onto the bed and stripping me?”

Morgan’s face fell, guilt settling in his features. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Reid grinned. “I forgive you 'cause you gave me cookies.”

Morgan huffed a laugh and reached into his pocket. “And... one more thing.” He extended his
hand and dropped something into Reid’s palm.

Reid squinted at the small, aquamarine glass bottle. “Calvin Klein? Is this cologne? I don’t
even wear cologne.”

Morgan shook his head. “It’s not for you to wear. It’s for you to... hold. I don’t know if it’ll
help, but does having the feel of glass in your hand calm you down?”

Reid turned the bottle over between his fingers, staring at it thoughtfully. “Maybe...”

“This was the smallest sampler I could find.”

Reid nodded and curled his fingers around it slowly. “Thank you.”
***

Playing chess seemed to be a good distraction for Reid. The young genius wouldn’t let
Morgan win even once.

“Don’t you have other things to do besides staying here and babysitting me?” Reid asked,
glancing up from the board.

“Like what?”

“I don't know. The usual stuff you do on weekends?”

“Such as?”

“Going to parties, picking up girls at a bar, going to the gym, watching football.”

“I could do all that with you. Wanna hit the bar or go to the gym?”

“Hell, no.”

Morgan laughed, moving his bishop in front of his rook. “Turns out hanging out with a geek
genius is more fun.”

“Even if I won’t let you win? Checkmate!”

“What!? How did that happen?” Morgan groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Reid shot him a smug look.

***

Reid managed the reduced dosage of dilaudid, staying composed for the most part. He clung
to the cologne bottle Morgan gave him, holding it like an amulet throughout the evening.
Even at work, Morgan noticed Reid quietly clutching the blue bottle, which he found oddly
endearing.

But breakdowns were inevitable. They usually hit every few days, often at night. Reid
withdrew from conversation and food, sinking into irritability or depression, sometimes
slipping into hallucinations.

In those moments, there wasn't much Morgan could do. He learned that Reid tended to pull
away from physical touch during withdrawal, so Morgan simply stayed close, waiting.
Sometimes for hours, sometimes until they both drifted off, exhaustion finally taking over.
 Meteor Shower
Chapter Notes

This story takes place on August 2007, shortly before the start of season 3. Reid is 25,
Morgan is 34.

Reid was sitting by the window, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. Cloony was
curled up next to him.

“Reid, you gotta eat something,” Morgan said.

Reid didn’t answer. Even Morgan wasn’t convinced by his own statement; Reid would
probably throw up again.

Morgan sighed. Drug withdrawal was hard to watch. With the dosage reduced by half, the
symptoms had become more severe.

Reid was now burying his face in his knees, murmuring, “I’m not weak... I’m not weak...”

Morgan sat next to him. “Reid, you are not weak.”

“...Then why did you leave me and Mom?”

“Reid, I'm Morgan,” Morgan said gently.

Reid lifted his head and saw his friend. “Morgan.”

He quickly glanced away. “I don’t want you to see me.”

“Reid...”

“Can you just leave me alone, please?” Reid buried his face in his knees again. “I don't want
you to see me,” he repeated.

“Why, Reid?”

“Because I’m weak.” Reid started rocking his body again. His hands were shaking.

“Reid.” Morgan grabbed Reid’s wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Go out. Let’s go see the meteor shower.”

“Perseid?”

“Yes. It peaks in mid-August, right? There are no clouds tonight.”

Morgan helped Reid to his feet.

They were quiet in the car. After a 20-minute drive, they arrived at South Point Boat Ramp.
When the car’s headlights were turned off, it was almost pitch black. They got out of the car,
and that’s when Reid realized something.

“Morgan, I forgot my glasses.”

“Oh no. Can you at least see some constellations? The sky’s so clear tonight.”

“No, I can't see a single star without my glasses.”

“Sorry, Reid. I should have noticed.” Morgan's voice was soft, but there was a flicker of
disappointment in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Do you want to go back and get them?”

“No... It's alright.” Reid leaned into him, resting his forehead against Morgan's shoulder as
his right hand settled on the small of Morgan’s back.

“I know all the stars up there. So... it’s August 12th... northern hemisphere... 11 p.m...”

His fingers began to trace soft lines against Morgan's back.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m drawing constellations, Morgan,” Reid whispered.

“I’ll teach you, so you find them, okay?” His voice was soft, almost drowsy.

“Do you see The Summer Triangle?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid was still leaning on Morgan, his left arm draped around Morgan's neck while his right
hand continued drawing invisible patterns on his back, mapping out the stars.

“The brightest star is Vega. It’s distinguished by the parallelogram of fainter stars below it,
which make up the constellation of the Lyre.”

Reid stopped his hand and whispered, “Can you see the parallelogram?”

“Yeah, I can see it.”

“Okay... Altair marks the southern vertex of the triangle. It has two fainter stars on either side
of it. Do you see it?”

“Yeah...”

“Now look down to the left from Vega. There’s Deneb. It's the tail of Cygnus, the Swan. The
swan is flying down the Milky Way with outstretched wings…”

Reid drew the wings.

“Did you find the swan, Morgan? Do you see the wings? Is it flying?”

The fragility in Reid’s voice made Morgan's throat tighten. Reid sounded like a swan with
broken wings.

“Morgan, is it flying?”

“Yes, I can see the Swan. It’s flying.”

“...Good.”

Morgan turned his body and pulled Reid into an embrace.

“Morgan, I wasn’t done,” Reid protested.

“Reid. Listen.” Morgan’s voice was low but clear in the silence of the night. “Drug addiction
has nothing to do with weakness. Anyone can develop an addiction. You know that, right?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could.”

“You wouldn’t.”

After a few moments, Reid spoke. “Morgan, I like you. I appreciate you for always helping
me. But it’s getting... hard.”

“What is?” Morgan loosened his arms just enough to look at him.

“That you always have to help me.”

“You help me too. It's mutual.”

“No. Not at all. I’m definitely more dependent on you.”

“Why not? How is that a problem? Do you feel pressured?”

“No.”

Morgan's brows furrowed as he studied Reid's face. “Reid, is that your pride? Do you feel
embarrassed?”
“No, not that.” Reid looked down and said in a barely audible voice, “It’s a fear.”

“What fear?”

“Fear of losing you.”

It was so unexpected that Morgan felt lost. Reid continued. “That someday you will be
disappointed in me because I can never live up to your standards. You’ll someday be tired of
me because I can never be strong like you.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid, that’s the stupidest thing I have heard you say.”

Before Reid could respond, Morgan pulled him back into his arms and held him tight.

“You’ll never lose me. Do you hear me, Spencer Reid? You’ll never lose me.”
 Morgan’s Testimony

Morgan arrived at Reid’s apartment with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

“Did you get the food from Sam’s?” he asked, dropping the bag on the floor.

“Yep. Everything you wanted.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

They settled on the couch, the scent of melted cheese and fried dough filling the air. Reid
picked at his fries and calzone but mostly watched Morgan eat.

Something was off. Morgan was quieter than usual, his shoulders tense beneath his t-shirt.

After dinner, Morgan wiped his hands on a napkin and pulled a light brown file folder from
his bag. He held it out.

“Reid, I want you to read this.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “What is it? A new case I missed?”

“No.”

“Do you need my help with something?”

“This isn’t work, Reid.” Morgan said, his voice softer, “It’s my testimony from court last
month.”

Reid blinked. “The testimony against Carl Buford?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you want me to read it?”

Morgan hesitated, rubbing his chin. “Because... I need to explain something to you.”

The air between them grew heavier. Reid’s frown deepened, but he nodded and slipped on his
glasses before opening the folder.

Morgan sank onto the sofa beside him, fingers laced together as he waited, tension curling in
his gut.
 Morgan’s Testimony【Full Transcript】
Chapter Notes

This is the transcript of Derek Morgan’s testimony given on June 14, 2007, against Carl
Buford for sexual assault.

Reader discretion is advised. This chapter contains depictions of sexual abuse. My heart
goes out to all survivors of child sexual abuse.

My name is Derek Morgan, and I am 34 years old. During the previous trial, I was referred to
as Victim 8. First, I want to thank you for taking the time to listen to the voices of myself and
other survivors, for allowing us the chance to speak the truth and plead for justice.

Carl Buford preyed on pubescent African-American boys, using his status as a community
hero to gain their trust by doing favors for them. He made sure the boys he molested had too
much to lose if they ever spoke out—and I was no exception.

When I was ten, my father was shot and killed in front of me. I struggled and became
involved with a gang, which led to a juvenile criminal record. That was when Buford took me
under his wing. He acted as a surrogate father, expunged my criminal record, and later helped
me secure a football scholarship to attend Northwestern University.

It started when I was thirteen. Buford put his hand on my thighs and genitals while in a car,
also placed my hand on his genitals. One day after football practice in the community center,
he exposed himself to me, and forced me to take shower with him. He groped me, fondled
me, and touched my penis using the soap to cause me to have an erection. Then he whispered
questions about how I felt. The shower continued for more than two years. In the shower he
performed oral sex on me, and also forced me to perform oral sex on him, too.

When I was fifteen, Buford took some of the boys from the community center including me
up to his private cabin. There, he gave me wine to intoxicate me and went skinny-dipping in
a lake with me. He rubbed his penis against me and then he penetrated me. The next night he
came into my bed, pulled down my pants and molested me while there was another boy
sleeping across from my bed. It was painful and I gritted my teeth not to make any sounds.
But the pain became excruciating as he moved his waist so I pushed down my face onto the
pillow to muffle my cry. I bled a lot from the anal rape and I had to wash my underpants that
had blood stain to hide it from my mother.

The anal rape continued. The second time, it happened in his house. The boys were invited to
Buford’s house for a party, but when I got there I was the only one. The moment I realized
what was coming, my body started to shiver and I cried. I begged him not to do it. But he got
on me and removed my clothes, and he said, “You better man up, boy.“
I couldn’t escape because I couldn’t afford to lose the scholarship. If I failed to get into
university, I would be stuck with him for a very long time. I told myself I just needed to
endure until I turned 18, then I could move to a different city and go to university. And that’s
exactly what I did.

Your Honor, this is my story—a story of how Buford destroyed one teenage boy for his
selfish desires. But there are at least 55 more victims who endured the same abuse at his
hands. 55 victims with names, faces, and souls. 55 boys whose suffering was enjoyed for his
sexual satisfaction.

Who will tell them how much they are worth? How valuable they are, how they deserve
justice and protection? Who will tell these boys that what was done to them was wrong and
unacceptable?

I plead with you, Your Honor, to give Carl Buford the maximum possible sentence, one that
reflects the severity of his actions. By doing so, you will send a clear message to him—and to
all other abusers—that they will not get away with their heinous crimes. Let this sentence
strike fear into anyone who thinks it’s acceptable to violate or harm another human being.
Thank you.
 Victim 8
Chapter Notes

This story takes place on August 2007, shortly before the start of season 3. Reid is 25,
Morgan is 34.

Tears streamed down Reid’s face, uncontrollable and relentless. He tried to compose himself,
but the tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard he willed it.

Morgan watched him, his gaze warm yet filled with concern, as Reid cried for him.

“Reid... you okay?” Morgan asked gently, offering a tissue.

Reid wiped his nose, his voice shaky as he spoke. “Did you read this in front of Buford?”

“Yeah,” Morgan replied quietly.

Reid’s face contorted with distress. “Oh, God...”

He closed his eyes and let more tears fall, his entire body shaking as he fought to breathe
through the overwhelming emotions. “Was... was anyone with you in court?”

“I was with two other victims who testified, along with their families.”

Reid nodded, reaching for more tissues.

“I’m sorry I made you read that,” Morgan murmured.

“Don’t apologize,” Reid said, his voice hoarse. “I’m grateful that you let me in this far.”

Morgan lowered his gaze to the floor, his stare unfocused, lost in thought for a while. The
silence stretched, thick and heavy between them.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke, his eyes still fixed on the floor.

“I was Victim 8,” he said, his words fragile and broken.

Reid’s heart clenched.

“The victim numbers go all the way to 56, Reid. And I never said a word.” Morgan’s voice
cracked. “I didn’t lift a finger to save those boys... Do you know why?”

Reid didn’t know what to say, so he just watched Morgan’s profile, his heart aching in his
chest.
“Because I was terrified,” Morgan said, his voice trembling now. “I was so scared of people
finding out... of them knowing that I was violated, that I didn’t have the courage to say no to
him, that I didn’t have the guts to stand up for myself. And I let him rape me again and
again.”

Morgan grimaced, the pain raw in his features.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he continued, murmuring more to himself than to Reid.

“And then... what would my family think? My friends? My coworkers? What would Spencer
think of me? Would he still see me the same way? Would he still let me protect him?”

Reid’s vision blurred once again as tears came rushing back, unstoppable.

“I was scared, Reid,” Morgan whispered. “So I turned a blind eye to the other victims... all to
protect myself. Do you think that’s what a strong man does?”

For the first time, Morgan looked at Reid—his gaze filled with sorrow. But then he looked
away again, his voice hollow.

“So... that’s the real me, Reid. I’m not as strong as you think.”

Both men were crying now. Without thinking, Reid reached over and pulled Morgan into a
fierce embrace—tighter than he’d ever held anyone before. Morgan clung to him just as
desperately, his broad shoulders trembling under Reid’s touch. Neither of them spoke. They
just held on, letting the tears fall.

***

The next morning, they were in full-blown panic mode. Both of their eyes were horribly
swollen from the previous night’s crying.

“Can we... can we just tell them it’s some... some sort of allergic reaction?” Reid’s voice hit a
higher pitch than usual, edged with panic.

Morgan, equally distressed, shook his head. “No, not both of us. How about one of us has an
allergic reaction, and the other stays home with… I don’t know, the flu?”

But neither of them wanted to stay home.

“We should’ve used ice packs last night. Why didn’t I think of that?” Reid muttered, pacing
anxiously across the room.

“Maybe we should do that now.” Morgan marched to the freezer, grabbed a couple of ice
packs, and shoved two at Reid. “Here. Better late than never.”
Reid took them reluctantly. “I think it’s too late.”

“Stop being so pessimistic. We’ve got an hour.”

Morgan dropped onto the couch with a sigh, pressing the ice packs to his eyes.

“Wait—caffeine!” Reid suddenly exclaimed, darting toward the kitchen. “I read somewhere
that it helps with puffiness.”

Morgan peeked out from behind his ice packs. “Please tell me you’re not about to make us
drink ten espressos.”

“No, no. Caffeine has natural tannins—they’re astringents, which means they constrict tissue.
Plus, caffeine can penetrate the skin barrier, boost circulation, and has strong antioxidant
properties,” Reid rambled, pulling out a pack of ground coffee beans and a chaotic
assortment of tea bags.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “English, please.”

“Tea bags are easier.” Reid murmured, already steeping two in ice water. He handed them to
Morgan before dropping two onto his own eyes and flopping down on the couch next to
Morgan.

“I think ice packs have a better shot.”

Morgan murmured, glancing at the genius sprawled out on the sofa with square tea bags over
his eyes. The sight was anything but impressive.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Reid adjusted the tea bags carefully.

After fifty minutes, Reid looked at Morgan.

“You look… a little better,” he offered hesitantly. “People might not notice.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Morgan muttered.

“I’m more obvious.”

“Well, yeah—you cried more.” Morgan smirked, then softened. “But your glasses will cover
it a little. You’re wearing them, right?”

“Yes...” Reid sighed, putting on his glasses.

Morgan chuckled under his breath.

***

Morgan let Reid enter the building first, waited in his car for 10 minutes, then went in.
No one commented on their eyes, and they hoped to make it through the day without drawing
attention. That was, until the team was called into the meeting room.

Hotch gave them both a long look. “Are you guys okay?”

They both muttered a quick “mm-hm,” and Hotch didn’t push any further. Then JJ and Emily
arrived. JJ gasped, followed immediately by Emily’s exclamation.

“Oh my goodness, what happened to your eyes, guys?”

Reid didn’t even look up from his file as he answered. “I had an… allergic reaction to the
grass pollen. I’m not sure about Morgan.”

Morgan shot Reid an incredulous look. Did the genius just throw him under the bus?

Emily, unfazed, turned to Morgan. “How about you, Morgan?”

“I, um… watched this... movie. It was a real tearjerker.”

“Oh, which one?”

“...Bambi.”

Emily blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, I cried watching that, too.”

Morgan scowled at Reid, who was covering his mouth to hide his smirk.

Just then, Garcia came into the room and gasped. “Oh my god. Did you two break up?”

“No, we didn’t,” Reid said coolly, while Morgan let out an exasperated sigh through his nose.
 Boys
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 3, Episode 2.

It’s October 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 34.

Morgan entered the meeting room to find only JJ and Reid. “What, no Hotch, and now no
Gideon?”

“Nope. Poor Spence waited all night for Gideon to show up and play chess in his office. He
never came.”

“All night?”

Morgan shot a concerned glance at Reid. “Did you sleep in his office?”

Reid’s annoyance flared at Morgan’s tone, sharp and parental.

It had been a month since Reid stopped taking Dilaudid, and now Morgan checked in on him
once a week, dropping by his apartment.

“These guys have been gone for two weeks. The least they could do is be on time,” Morgan
grumbled as he sat down.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re never late,” Reid shot back. Morgan ignored him, turning to JJ.
“Where’s Prentiss?”

“Her phone keeps going straight to voicemail.”

“Should we wait fifteen minutes?” Reid suggested.

“That’s what college students do when the professor doesn’t show up.”

Morgan scoffed, and Reid’s irritation deepened. JJ sighed, exasperated by their back-and-
forth. “I’ll brief you guys first. Right now, the Milwaukee police task force needs our help.
Four murders in three weeks, plus another woman’s been missing for the last two days.”

***

Morgan was relieved to spot Hotch in the hallway. “Hotch! Man, I’m glad to see you.”

“Morgan, I’m requesting a transfer,” Hotch said, his tone flat.

Morgan’s smile faded quickly. “Is that a joke?”

“It’s not a joke. Strauss already suspended me once—the writing’s on the wall.”

“Hotch, we both know that suspension was bogus.”

“You’ll get a new unit chief.” Hotch gave a faint, humorless smile. “Maybe the next one
won’t be such a drill sergeant.”

Morgan didn’t bite. “Look, man. Are you a pain in my ass? Yes, sir. But wanting to hang out
with you and needing you to lead this team are two very different things.”

Hotch rested a hand on Morgan’s arm. “It’s been a privilege.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving Morgan stunned and
confused.

***

Flying without Hotch, Gideon, and Prentiss made Reid uneasy. On top of that, Section Chief
Strauss came along—the very person who suspended Hotch. Morgan was furious. JJ was
determined to handle the situation as best she could.

Strauss was seated three rows away from them, so the agents just bantered among
themselves.

“So, without Hotch and Gideon, who do you think would be the boss between the three of
us?” Reid asked.

“Obviously not you—so, either JJ or me,” Morgan replied without hesitation.

Reid pouted. “But I’m the smartest.”

“We’re talking about leadership.”

“You’re too reckless to be a leader,” Reid shot back.

“Excuse me?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly offended.

Ignoring him, Reid turned to JJ. “What do you think, JJ?”

She gave both of them a withering look. “Me.”

Before Reid could reply, Morgan subtly gestured for him to be quiet. Strauss was heading
their way. The team quickly pretended to be reviewing the case files.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe it’s protocol to brief everyone before we arrive at the
crime scene,” Strauss said.

“Yes, ma’am,” JJ responded politely and went over the case details. “This unsub is abducting
women from very public places, with no witnesses. He holds them for 48 hours, and then
dumps their bodies with their hearts carved out.”
Morgan laid out the victim photos in front of Strauss, watching her expression tense with
discomfort.

Reid continued. “There's an obvious dichotomy in the skill the unsub exhibits in abducting
these women and the fact that he cuts their hearts out so crudely.”

Morgan added, “We’re probably looking at someone in a psychotic break. Could be a

butcher. Might be a hunter. Someone who’s very comfortable around blood but clearly lacks
the skills of a surgeon.”

Strauss exhaled sharply. “So, do we have a working theory?”

Morgan scoffed, “Sure we do. Someone who really doesn’t like women.”

Strauss scowled. Reid pursed his mouth to keep from smirking. Without another word, the
section chief turned and returned to her seat.

“Wait until she sees the actual crime scenes,” Reid whispered and Morgan smirked.

JJ, observing them both, realized one thing: having a common enemy might just hold the
team together—at least for now.

***

“Garcia, baby girl, please tell me something I want to hear,” Morgan said.

“You’re a statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder,” Garcia replied.

Reid frowned and exchanged glances with JJ. Knowing that neither Hotch nor Gideon were
on the field, Garcia and Morgan had been flirting on speakerphone unashamedly. Morgan
laughed.

“How about something I don’t already know?”

“I have a sweet tooth?”

Reid rolled his eyes.

Much to Reid’s amusement, their flirting was cut short by Strauss. Garcia answered the
phone without realizing it was Strauss.

“Talk dirty to me,” Garcia said.

Strauss frowned, and Morgan looked flustered. “This is Section Chief Erin Strauss.”

“Ma’am, I think it goes without saying that I was expecting it to be someone else,” Garcia
stammered, horrified. Reid bit the inside of his lip to stifle a giggle.

***
JJ felt a quiet sense of pride watching the small team—herself, Reid, Morgan, and Garcia—
working seamlessly together. No one was panicking or complaining. Everyone was doing
their best, and despite the odds, the team was holding strong. Still, JJ couldn’t be happier
when Hotch and Prentiss suddenly showed up.

“Look who’s here!” Reid exclaimed.

Hotch and Emily joined them, clearly having decided to defy Strauss’s orders. Smiles were
exchanged, and Morgan clasped Hotch’s hand in a firm shake.

“How’ve you three been holding up?” Emily whispered as she slipped beside JJ.

“Let’s just say I’m beyond relieved to see you,” JJ murmured back.

“Strauss?”

“That—and also...” JJ trailed off, casting a quick glance to ensure Reid and Morgan were out
of earshot.

“What?”

JJ lowered her voice. “The boys. They just can’t get enough of annoying each other.”

Emily chuckled as JJ continued, “Whenever one says something, the other has to jump in and
push his buttons.”

“That’s not exactly new.”

“I know. But when you’re the only grown-up left to deal with them...”

“Sounds exhausting.”

JJ sighed, nodding.

“Maybe they’re just happy to have a brother. Neither of them has a real one, right?”

“Or,” JJ said with a smirk, “it’s just their way of flirting.”

Both women glanced toward Morgan and Reid, who were in the middle of their usual banter
—teasing each other as they often did. Sharing a knowing smile, JJ and Emily returned to the
work at hand, grateful to have the team back together again.
 Gideon’s Letter
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 2.

It’s October 2007. Reid is 25, Morgan is 34.

When Reid turned off the engine, silence settled, broken only by the distant chirping of
crickets. He got out of the car, walked up to the cabin door, and knocked.

“Gideon?”

He cast a timid glance back toward the darkened woods before pushing the door open.

“Gideon?”

The cabin was quiet. The air felt heavy with absence. He switched on the table lamp, its soft
glow revealing a badge and gun neatly placed on the table—beside them lay an envelope with
his name on it.

Spencer

His heart raced. With careful fingers, he unsealed the letter and began to read.

[Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me. You must be frightened, and I
apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then I also never envisioned
writing this letter. I've searched for a satisfactory explanation for what I'm doing. All I've
come up with is: a profiler needs to have solid footing. I don't think I do anymore. The world
confuses me. The cruelty, indifference, tragedy-----]

Reid read the letter within a minute, but every word was burned into his memory. He didn’t
know how he was supposed to feel. He just understood that Gideon had left. Sadness made
him numb, but no tears came. He was so confused. He staggered to his feet, faltered to the
door, and left the cabin.

***
Morgan heard a car pull into the driveway. The area around his house was usually quiet at
night. He saw the Volvo Amazon parked.

...Reid?

The young man got out of the car, clutching the blue bottle in his right hand.

“Hey, Dr. Reid.”

Before Reid could ring the bell, Morgan opened the door, causing him to jump.

The moment Reid saw Morgan’s face, he threw his arms around his neck, burying his face
against Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan responded immediately, wrapping him up gently.

“What happened?”

“Gideon left.”

“What? How do you know?”

“He left me a letter.”

Morgan’s heart dropped. “Oh my god…”

He rubbed Reid’s back, his touch slow and soothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Reid shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I just need you to hold me.”

“Got it.”

Reid’s eyes fluttered shut as he settled against Morgan.

Don’t think about the letter. Don’t think about Gideon. (He left me. Just like Dad did.) Don’t
think about it. Dissociate. Far, far away. Don’t think about dilaudid. Don’t think about the
easy way out. Take me away from the temptation.

Morgan didn’t know how much time had passed.

“Reid, can we sit? My legs are getting tired.”

Reid nodded, and Morgan gently took his hand as they moved toward the sofa. They sat
down, and as soon as they were settled, Reid reached for Morgan again. Morgan held him
close. The quiet between them felt endless, as if time itself had stopped. When Reid zoned
out like this, the minutes or hours slipped by unnoticed, unless something brought him back.

“Reid… It’s getting late. Can you get ready for bed? We’ve got work tomorrow.”
“...Okay.”

Reid slowly released Morgan, avoiding his gaze with a quiet, almost bashful look. In the
bathroom, he found his toothbrush and toothpaste in the cabinet. Since July 4th—the day
Morgan learned about his drug addiction—Reid had spent many nights here.

Morgan’s voice called through the door. “Reid, I’ll put the clothes here for you to wear.”

Reid decided to take a shower. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t have eidetic memory.
Gideon’s words kept echoing in his mind, impossible to escape.

[---In this line of work, I was afraid I would lose the ability to trust, but I've realized I can't
really look at anyone without seeing their death. And as bad as losing faith in humanity
seems, losing your faith in happy endings is much worse.---]

When Reid stepped out of the bathroom and saw Morgan, he instantly moved toward him,
wrapping his arms around him once more.

Morgan blushed, holding him in return, wondering where the sassy genius had gone.

“Reid, you need to sleep. Rest on my bed now, please.”

Reid didn’t move.

“Reid...?”

“Can we sleep together?”

Reid’s voice was raspy.

“I can’t hold you in bed.”

“Why not?”

“That’s... too intimate. I might do something stupid.”

Reid pulled back slightly, looking at Morgan with surprise. “What do you mean?”

Morgan’s face flushed. He rubbed his forehead. “I can stay beside you while you sleep.”

“...Okay.”

Morgan stayed on the edge of the bed, watching Reid as he tried to drift off. After a while,
Morgan’s own eyes began to close, and he dozed off.

In the middle of the night, Reid’s touch on Morgan’s back startled him awake.

What is he doing…?
Morgan stiffened, as Reid’s fingers began to trace lines on his back.

“Are you drawing stars?” Morgan whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” Reid whispered back. “The other day, you didn’t let me finish, so…”

Morgan smiled faintly, still half asleep.

But Reid’s mind was a chaotic mess. Gideon’s words returned to him, filling his mind like a
relentless echo.

[---I said at the beginning of this letter, that I knew it would be you to come up here. I'm so
sorry the explanation couldn't be better, Spencer. And I am so sorry that it doesn't make more
sense, but I've already told you, I just don't understand any of it anymore. I'm sorry---]

Reid kept adding more lines, more stars.

Don’t think about the letter. Don’t think about Gideon. (He left me.) Don’t think about it.
Dissociate. Far away. Far away into the constellations...

The words came back, sharp and unrelenting.

[Is death ever worth it? Was the world always this gray? Is it only in the movies that it's black
and white? Was that just an illusion? I used to know. I used to understand my place, my
direction, where I was headed]

[Spencer. I am so sorry that it doesn't make more sense]

[I just don't understand any of it anymore. I'm sorry]

“Stop apologizing to me!” Reid suddenly shouted, his voice breaking, making Morgan spin
around. Reid was crying, his face twisted in pain. “I don’t understand it either. I don’t. I
don’t!”

“Reid…”

“Hold me. Hold me, Morgan. Hold me.”

“Okay. Okay, Reid. Okay... Calm down.”

Morgan stretched his right arm out, rubbing Reid’s back awkwardly. It didn’t feel right.

“That’s not holding,” Reid complained.

Morgan hesitantly slipped his left arm under Reid’s head, pulling him a little closer. But it
was still awkward—too tentative, too unsure. Morgan didn’t know how to hold a man in bed.
Or how to hold anyone in bed without being intimate.

It was just as uncomfortable for Reid as it was for Morgan. After a moment, Reid shifted,
turning around so that Morgan could hold him from behind.
Morgan slowly squeezed Reid’s body from behind, feeling a rush of heat crawl up his neck
and into his face until he was starting to sweat.

His pulse raced, and he tried to focus on anything but the sensation in his arms, but his
thoughts were a blur. He couldn’t think about Gideon or the letter—he was too nervous, his
heart pounding in his chest. He was desperately hoping his body wouldn’t respond the wrong
way.

This is ridiculous…

Morgan shut his eyes, feeling like a teenager lying in bed with his girlfriend for the first time,
unsure and full of restless energy.

How can Reid be okay with this? He listened to Reid’s steady breathing. Maybe he was in so
much pain that he didn’t notice the awkwardness, or perhaps Reid was so inexperienced that
this didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it did to Morgan.

He decided to wait until Reid fell asleep before pulling his arm away, then sneaking out to the
living room. Until then, he couldn’t let his guard down. If he gave one more squeeze to
Reid’s slender frame, his body would definitely react, and he didn’t know how he’d explain
that.

When Morgan woke up on the couch the next morning, Reid was already gone. His clothes
were neatly folded and left on the bed.

When they saw each other at work, there was an undeniable awkwardness between them.
They exchanged brief “hey”s, Reid glancing down to brush some stray hair from his face,
while Morgan rubbed the back of his neck.

But soon enough, Reid slipped back into his usual sassy self, and their constant banter
resumed, making JJ and Emily exchange amused glances and shake their heads.
 Elevator
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 3, Episode 3.

[I love reading the comments you leave on these early chapters! Whether you're new or
rereading, feel free to leave comments on any chapter. I'm always happy to go back and
read them. Thank you and love you all!!]

Four bodies had been uncovered in a mass grave in Oregon. Each victim had been tortured
before death, but there were no signs of sexual assault. The most recent victim was Jenny
Whitman, who had been asphyxiated.

The team landed in Portland and headed to the FBI Field Office.

Reid and Morgan were assigned to visit Jenny Whitman’s apartment to join Hotch in the
investigation. They got into a car provided for them. The radio was on, broadcasting the
morning news.

After the news, the radio began playing a slow-tempo love song. The car was quiet, and the
music started to make Reid uncomfortable. The young doctor wasn’t used to hearing pop
music and couldn’t help but focus on the lyrics.

[When the visions around you bring tears to your eyes

And all that surrounds you are secrets and lies
I’ll be your strength
I’ll give you hope
Keeping your faith when it’s gone
The one you should call
Was standing there all along]

[And I will take you in my arms

And hold you right where you belong
‘Til the day my life is through
This, I promise you]

Reid blinked. His mind was suddenly filled with images of Morgan embracing him. Reid
shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pushed some hair behind his ear, and put his hand under his
chin. He stole a glance at Morgan, wondering if he felt awkward too. Morgan didn’t seem
bothered by the song at all.

Reid turned off the radio.

“Hey, it’ll be weather after this,” Morgan said, turning the radio back on.

Reid turned the volume down. “This... this song is making me uncomfortable.”

“Really? Why?” Morgan asked, turning the volume back up.

[I’ve loved you forever in lifetimes before

And I promise you never will you hurt anymore
I give you my word
I give you my heart
This is a battle we’ve won
And with this vow
Forever has now begun]

Morgan began singing in a high-pitched voice.

“Over and over I fall

When I hear you call
Without you in my life, baby
I just wouldn't be living at all…”

“Stop singing, Morgan.”

“Why not?”

Morgan chuckled and kept singing.

Morgan and Reid met Hotch in front of Jenny Whitman’s apartment building. The building
had a small old elevator. Once Reid and Morgan were inside, there wasn’t much room left, so
Hotch decided to take the stairs.

In the elevator, Morgan started the song again and slipped his arm around Reid’s waist.

“And I will take you in my arms

And hold you right where you belong”

“Stop it.”

Reid swatted Morgan’s hand away.

Just then, the elevator abruptly stopped.

They both frowned, sharing a look. Morgan jumped up a little to try to get it moving again.

“Don’t do that.”

Morgan continued to jump.

“Why isn’t it moving?”

“I don’t know.”

Morgan began pressing the control buttons randomly.

“Don’t. Stop it. Don’t…”

“What? What’s the problem?”

Morgan pressed more buttons, and Reid yelled, “Don’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because there are 6 elevator-related deaths per year, not to mention 10,000 injuries that
require hospitalization. Chill out.”

Morgan grinned. “That sounds like pretty good odds to me. Are you scared, Reid?”

“I’m not scared. I don’t want to be in an elevator with you, to be honest.”

Suddenly, the elevator jolted and screeched to a halt. Morgan lost his balance.

“Whoa. Whoa.” He widened his eyes, now taking the situation seriously.

Reid was panicking. “Um... hit the... hit the... yeah. Push it! It might’ve…”

Morgan frantically pushed the buttons. “I’m doing it! Nothing’s happening!”

“Pry... pry... pry the door open! Just…”

Morgan tried to open the door by hand. “It’s stuck, man.”

The elevator creaked and fell a little more.

“No, no, no, no. Not today. No, not today.” Morgan held on to the wall.

Reid shut his eyes and called his boss. “Hotch!”

Morgan yelled louder. “Hotch!!”

Hotch walked to the elevator just as Morgan managed to open the door and fell out.

“Was that the alarm? You guys OK?”

Reid slowly emerged from the elevator, looking petrified. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

***

The boy genius was determined to get revenge on Morgan for teasing him in the elevator.

Hotch walked over to the victim board. “Fire, hanging, asphyxiation. Now we’ve got a
drowning.”
“I think it’s someone who’s afraid of drowning,” Reid said, checking the speakerphone to
make sure Emily and Morgan in the field could hear him as well.

“What do you mean?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, it hit me when Morgan freaked out when we were stuck in the elevator.”

“You got stuck in an elevator?” Emily asked Morgan, amused.

“I freaked?” Morgan snapped at Reid.

“Well, that’s not important. Here’s what it is,” Reid continued to explain while Morgan shook
his head with a wry smile.

The boy genius made sure Garcia knew about the incident too.

“Baby girl, there’s nothing to know. I hit a couple of buttons when I got stuck. That’s it. What
do you want?”

“And?”

Garcia wouldn’t let him go until he admitted it.

“Okay, I freaked out a little bit.”

Garcia cackled with glee. Morgan swore he would make Reid pay.

The team discovered that the unsub was using people’s fears to kill them. At a laundromat
near the latest victim’s apartment, Emily and Reid found a flyer advertising a research project
by a company called the Goodman Institute, which led them to the unsub, Dr. Howard.

***

On the way back to the office, Emily seized the chance to talk to Reid.

“Hotch is even more intense now that Gideon’s gone.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Reid replied quietly.

“Do you think it’ll change?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Emily stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “What about you? You okay?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about, really?”

“Gideon.”

“Oh, no. He, uh… left a letter explaining everything.” Reid stammered, eyes drifting away.

“Just like my dad did when he abandoned me and my mom.”

Emily’s heart ached as she watched him. She could see the shield Reid was putting up, the
one he always used to protect himself.

“I think you need to read that letter again.”

“I have an eidetic memory, Emily.”

“I know, and an IQ of 187, but what do you remember about your father?”

Reid furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Reid, I get it—it’s painful. But running away from it would only prolong the pain and
confusion.”

Reid fell silent. He wet his lips and blinked. Emily knew he did that when he was nervous.

“I can’t… I can’t afford to deal with my emotions right now, Emily. I only just… recovered
from… from…”

Emily reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know.”

“What?”

“I knew.”

“How? Did Morgan tell you?”

“No. I notice a lot about you, Reid. Because I care about you.”

A faint tightness crossed his features. “Don’t make me cry.”

Emily pulled him into a hug, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, wanting him to know
that Gideon wasn’t the only one who understood him and loved him.

“Emily?”

“Yeah?”

“When I’m ready to read that letter again… can you be with me?”

“Of course, Reid. Anytime.”

***
Morgan and Hotch pursued the unsub, Dr. Howard, as he ran up the stairs on the side of the
building. Despite their effort, the unsub committed suicide, jumping off the roof of the
building. However, the team was able to save the last victim, who was buried alive in the
basement.

As the team wrapped up the case, they were nearly ready to head to the jet. On their way out
of the room, Morgan spotted Reid already wearing his messenger bag, waiting by the
elevator.

“Heey, pretty boy.” Morgan flashed a wide grin, eager to tease him about the elevator
incident. Reid glanced over but didn’t say anything.

“You and me in the elevator again, huh?” Morgan teased as they stepped inside. He noticed
the small glass bottle in Reid’s right hand, a sign of distress.

“Hey... are you okay?”

“Aren’t you gonna sing that silly song?”

Morgan let out a small laugh but then asked again, “Reid, you okay?”

Reid lowered his gaze, then met Morgan’s eyes. “Emily said I should read the letter again.”

“...Are you going to?”

“I don’t know. I might.”

“I can be there when you read it.”

Reid raised an eyebrow and smiled at Morgan. “I already asked Emily.”

“Prentiss and I can both be with you.”

“Yeah.”

Reid smiled again. He knew if he asked JJ or Garcia, they’d be there too. The thought
warmed him. When he had read the letter in Gideon’s secluded cabin, he’d been completely
alone. But now, when he imagined being in that cabin, he saw everyone there with him. He
felt grateful for the friends he had.
 Symphony
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 5. It's October, 2007. Reid is
26, Morgan is 34.

“Hey,” Morgan greeted with a warm smile as Reid opened the door. It had been a month
since Morgan had last visited Reid’s apartment.

“Did you miss me?” Morgan asked, his tone light and playful.

Reid glanced up, momentarily lost in thought, then nodded.

“Yes.”

The sight of Reid’s endearing expression made Morgan’s teasing words dissolve into a
genuine grin.

“Happy Birthday, Reid.” Morgan handed an envelope to Reid.

“Thank you.” Reid lifted the edges of his mouth coyly.

“Don’t tell me you wrote me a letter.”

“I actually thought about it.” Morgan grinned. “I wanted to outwrite Gideon so it could
replace Gideon’s letter in your head.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Reid looked stunned.

“Why? You think it's stupid to even think I can outwrite Gideon?”

“No. It’s... it’s just...” Who does that for me? Reid felt a lump in his throat.

“I tried for at least three hours and then I gave up.”

“What did you write?”

“I’m not gonna tell you.”

Reid pouted to conceal his emotion. He imagined Morgan mulling over what to write with a
pencil in his hand. It was overwhelmingly sweet.

“Aren’t you going to see what’s inside?”

Reid snapped out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yeah...” He opened the white envelope, and his face instantly lit up.

“Wow. Symphony Orchestra Beethoven’s No. 9.”

Reid looked at Morgan, amazed.

“Thank you. I’ve never been to a live orchestra before.”

“Good. You’re welcome.” Morgan felt satisfied looking at his friend’s genuine excitement.

“It’s a pair of tickets. You’re coming with me, right?”

“You can take anyone. Don’t you have anyone you’d like to take out on a date?”

“No.”

“How about JJ? You took her out before.”

“The football game?”

“Yeah, the Redskins.”

“It didn’t turn out to be a date since she brought Garcia along.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Reid laughed at the memory. “I was so nervous that I was actually glad Garcia came.
I had a secret crush on JJ, so.”

“You did?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, amused.

“A little bit. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s JJ.”

“How about now?”

“She has a boyfriend.”

Morgan shoved Reid’s head teasingly.

“So? Do you want to come with me?”

“Sure. I’m honored.”

Reid checked the ticket again.

“It’s next Sunday. 7 p.m. The Kennedy Center.”

“Do you know what I’m supposed to wear?” Morgan asked.

“Semi-formal, I think.”

***

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat seeing his friend in semi-formal wear and partially tied-up
hair. Reid wore a slim-fit two-piece suit in charcoal gray with a white shirt and a slim black
tie. The upper half of his hair was tied into a bun.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Reid was blushing too. Morgan looked extra handsome in a tailored black suit with a
white French-cuff dress shirt. A crisp sliver of white square peeked out from his breast
pocket.

The Kennedy Center was a very classy and beautiful venue with a mid-century modernist
vibe. It had a clean, white exterior and beautiful red decor on the inside. The main theater
was true grandeur. The elegant red color enveloped the entire hall from the seats to the starlit
ceiling.

“Wow...” Reid sighed in admiration. “It’s breathtaking.”

“I feel like royalty,” Morgan said, and Reid chuckled.

A friendly staff member approached them with a warm smile and recommended they visit the
terrace on the top floor, noting they still had about 30 minutes to spare. From there, they
could enjoy a stunning night view of the Potomac River and the surrounding neighborhoods
in D.C. and Arlington. As they took in the panorama, Reid and Morgan spotted the Lincoln
Memorial and the Washington Monument gleaming in the distance.

Morgan couldn’t ignore the stares they attracted. No matter where they went, the two agents
drew attention. It was clear they looked like a couple—a strikingly attractive one at that.
Morgan slipped his arm around Reid’s waist.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Reid shifted uncomfortably, wriggling away from Morgan’s embrace.

They went back to their seats. There were more people in the main theater now.

“Don’t sleep, okay?” Reid told Morgan.

“I won’t. I paid for the tickets. I know how expensive this thing is.” Morgan grinned, assuring
him.

***

After the concert, Reid was angry.

“I can’t believe you slept through the second movement! You missed the entire third
movement and half of the finale! You missed all the best parts, man.”
“I was listening. I was just closing my eyes.”

“Don’t lie to me, Derek Morgan.” Reid fumed.

“Are you seriously that angry?”

They had a late dinner at the Roof Terrace Restaurant in the Kennedy Center. Reid ordered
the Jail Island Salmon, and Morgan had the BBQ Pork Flatbread. Reid still appeared to be
upset. He ate his food quietly.

“Reid... Come on. I’m sorry I slept.”

Silence.

“I’ll make it up.”

“How? Are you going to buy me another pair of tickets?”

“No... but I’ll buy you cookies again.” Morgan said it as a joke, but Reid seemed to be
seriously considering the offer.

“Buy me cookies and also you have to listen to me explain Beethoven's Ninth.”

“Oh gosh... how long will it take?”

“I’d say about 40 minutes. And don’t fall asleep.”

Morgan sighed. “This is what I get for giving a nice gift to my friend.”

“You shouldn’t have slept.”

Reid was ruthless.

***

“So, Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony starts in a very unexpected way.”

Morgan and Reid were at a café near the BAU. Morgan gave up all his lunch break for Reid’s
lecture.

“You would think that it would start with some kind of fireworks, right? But no. It starts with
this... barren landscape. It doesn’t really have any mood attached to it. It’s... almost empty.”

“Hmm. I remember the first part.” Morgan sipped his coffee.

“And then, suddenly the orchestra explodes into the... first loud moment.”
Reid continued to explain the first movement of the symphony, how it repeats its screaming
out and retreating. Morgan could tell the young genius was not reciting the information he
had read somewhere but was explaining how he felt. And it was actually interesting to hear.

“The second movement starts with this powerful rhythm. It goes on and on, then it suddenly
makes an accelerando and goes into a trio section, which is dramatically different. You slept
around here, can you believe it?”

Morgan couldn’t recall the moment the music dramatically changed.

“The third movement really reflects Beethoven’s reverence for nature. It’s... it feels like
you’re walking in the forest with your loved one. It’s so heartfelt, it’s... it’s so intimate. I
wanted to listen to this part with you, but you were sleeping, so I had to walk by myself.”

Morgan looked at Reid, startled. Didn’t he just confess his feelings towards him? Reid was so
carried away explaining that he didn’t notice he was making Morgan blush.

“Beethoven even writes ‘mezzo voce,’ which means a covered voice. You’re not supposed to
sing full-out. It’s supposed to be almost like an inner voice. It’s inward.”

“Inner voice?”

“Yeah, it’s there in your heart but... but you can’t shout it out. But it’s something pleasant.
This whole movement is about comfort.”

“Hmm.” Morgan looked thoughtful.

“And then, the finale breaks out. It begins with fragments of the first three movements, then
begins the variations of the central Ode to Joy theme. It’s... a huge recitative for an entire
section of people united to sing out. The feeling at the end of the Ninth Symphony is one of...
just an eruption of joy and celebration.”

Reid stopped, and they were just looking at each other for a few seconds.

“Done.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t sleep.”

“It was... quite intriguing, actually.”

“Really?” Reid’s eyes lit up. “I can tell you more about it.”

“No, it’s okay.” Morgan said quickly. “But... let’s listen to the Ninth again.” Morgan said
rather eagerly.

“Are you sure? It’s 70 minutes.”

“Would libraries have Beethoven CDs?”

“I actually have the vinyl record of the Ninth.”

“Can you play it on your record player?” Morgan remembered an old-fashioned turntable
record player in Reid’s apartment.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Cool. After work, then?”

“Okay.”

***

At Reid’s apartment, Morgan and Reid sat on the sofa and listened to Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony.

Morgan listened intently, recalling Reid’s explanation. He still didn’t have a deep
appreciation for the symphony, not at the same level of enthusiasm as the young genius
anyway, but it was definitely more interesting after listening to Reid.

Especially the third movement, where Reid described the feeling of walking in the forest with
your loved one, Morgan could certainly sense that feeling. He hesitantly touched the hand of
the man sitting next to him on the sofa. Reid responded, and they held hands together without
speaking. Morgan felt his face flush.

So they walked in the forest together for 14 minutes, feeling the intimacy and comfort as
Reid described.

Morgan remembered what Reid said about ‘mezzo voce.’ It’s a covered voice; you’re not
supposed to sing full-out. It’s supposed to be an inner voice. Morgan gave a very subtle
squeeze to Reid’s hand. He felt Reid squeeze his hand back, though very subtly.

The whole thing was probably just a delusion, Morgan thought.

Dr. Reid was so elusive to Morgan. Because of his quirkiness and lack of social skills,
Morgan didn’t quite know how the genius felt about their unusual friendship.

But for now, Morgan decided to indulge himself in the delusion.

It only lasts for 14 minutes, anyway.

 Rossi
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 6&7.

Dr. Spencer Reid's favorite time of year is October, with Halloween being his most cherished
holiday. Back in college, he and his fellow enthusiasts would brainstorm costumes that
showcased their knowledge, reveling in their shared sense of humor. Halloween was
especially significant to him as a child; while other kids were frightened by horror movies,
Reid was admired for his ability to remain unshaken and explain the improbability of the
scenarios depicted. On Halloween, he felt a sense of belonging among the oddities, where he
could truly be himself. As a child, he often wished that Halloween could last all year long.

Reid walked into the BAU office wearing a Frankenstein mask, handing out candies. He
found Morgan at his desk and grinned behind the mask. He snuck up behind him and growled
right behind his ear.

“I’m gonna eat you!!”

Morgan jumped, sending the papers he was holding flying out of his hands. “Reid...” he
muttered, voice thick with exasperation.

“Happy All Hallows’ Eve, folks!” Reid declared, clearly delighted by Morgan’s reaction. He
bounced over to his desk, pulling off the mask but leaving it perched on top of his head.

“To paraphrase Celtic mythology,” he continued, digging through his bag, “tomorrow night,
all order is suspended, and the barriers between the natural and supernatural are temporarily
re-mooooved!”

Reid pulled out a fake head from his bag, wiggled it in the air, and tossed it to Emily, who
squealed and laughed.

Morgan stared at Reid with a Frankenstein face on his head and a rope around his neck,
seriously wondering if that was the same guy who took his breath away in his semi-formal
attire only a few days ago.

“See, that right there is why Halloween creeps me out,” Morgan said.

“Are you scared of Halloween?”

“I didn’t say I was scared. I said I was creeped out. There’s a difference there, youngster. You
should look it up.”
Reid lifted an eyebrow.

“What creeps you out about it?” Emily asked Morgan.

“I don’t know. People wearing masks.” Morgan pointed at Reid. “I don't like folks in
disguises.”

“That’s the best part of Halloween!” Reid argued. “You can be anyone you want to be.”

“Nah, I’m pretty good just being me,” Morgan shot back.

“Why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?” Emily quipped, smirking.

“You know what, though?” Morgan leaned back, flashing a grin. “It does give a pretty good
excuse to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Halloween honey.” He clicked his tongue and
winked at Emily.

“Ew. Halloween honey. Now I’m creeped out,” Emily groaned.

“Yeah, Emily, it’s pretty nauseating,” Reid added, rolling his eyes. Then his gaze shifted,
catching someone across the room. “Guys, he’s here.”

Morgan and Emily followed his line of sight just as Hotch stepped in with a new face beside
him.

“SSA David Rossi, this is SSA Emily Prentiss,” Hotch said.

“Sir.” Emily beamed, shaking Rossi’s hand.

“SSA Derek Morgan.”

“It’s an honor, Agent Rossi,” Morgan said, his tone respectful.

“And Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Sir, if I could talk to you later about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner. Psycho-
linguistics is an incredibly dynamic field, and the fact that your profile of his reading habits
ultimately led to his capture is something I find so incredibly intrig...”

“Reid, slow down,” Hotch interrupted, cutting off the ramble. “He’ll be here for a while. You
can catch up with him later.”

“Sorry,” Reid mumbled, offering a sheepish smile.

Morgan chuckled under his breath and gave Reid's head a playful shove.

***

Later in the office, Reid perched on Morgan’s desk, talking his ear off about Star Wars.
Morgan had no idea how he’d let himself get roped into this.
“A popular theory among leading astrophysicists estimates that the hyper-matter reactor
would need about 10³² Joules of energy to destroy a planet the size of Earth. Now, Lucas said
it took 19 years to build the first Death Star, right? If you look at the universal chronology,
there’s a tested prototype for Superlaser....”

Morgan let out a dramatic sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Reid asked.

“Reid, me sitting through your Beethoven’s Ninth lecture was my penance. Doesn’t mean I
have to listen to you anytime, anywhere.”

Morgan stood up from his chair.

“Where are you going?”

“Taking back the last five minutes of my life.”

He headed toward Rossi’s office.

“You can’t go in there,” Reid protested, trailing behind him.

“Don’t you want to know about this guy?” Morgan asked.

“I do,” Emily followed.

“I already do. Got it all memorized—his books, his bio...”

Morgan and Emily stepped into David Rossi’s office.

“Taupe walls,” Emily mumbled, glancing around.

“It’s a negative color. Cold, distant. Emotionally, taupe is linked to loneliness and the desire
to escape from the world,” Emily explained.

“What happened to the moratorium on inter-team profiling, guys?” Reid whispered, glancing
back anxiously as he entered the room.

“Oh, I found something.” Morgan handed Reid a piece of art. “Looks like some kind of
religious art. Original, maybe.”

Reid squinted at the piece.

“It’s Renaissance art. If that’s original...”

“Is it?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to tell.” Reid studied the image carefully. “Means he’s into
the classics.”

“What else?” Morgan prompted.

“Um, Italian, strict Catholic upbringing, probably believes in redemption.”

“Oh, I believe in a lot of things.”

Rossi walked into the office, startling the three agents.

“Catholic, yes. Italian American, 52 years old. Strict upbringing? Not so much. As for the
artwork, it’s 15th century, original. Cost more than my first house. And the wall color? Just a
base coat. Painters will finish it tomorrow. Now, if you’re all done, I think JJ and Hotch are
ready for us.”

The three agents exchanged glances before exiting the room.

JJ briefed the team about a new case in Great Falls, Montana, where three women were
missing. The local police caught the suspect, Francis Goehring, driving the car of a fourth
woman he had abducted. Goehring waited for an officer to approach and then set off a
grenade, killing both himself and the officer. However, the body of the fourth victim, Angela
Miller, was not found in the wreckage.

Reid, Morgan, and Rossi arrived at Goehring’s compound, a militia stronghold. Reid walked
up to the door and knocked. The landlord opened it, eyeing Reid with clear discomfort and
suspicion.

“What the hell do you want? Can’t you read?”

“I’m not a salesman. I’m with the FBI.” Reid showed his badge.

“FBI? You’re not serious! You look like a pipe cleaner with eyes. I could snap you like a
twig,” the landlord mocked.

Morgan, who had just caught up with Reid, overheard and stepped forward.

“What did you just say?” he demanded, pulling off his sunglasses and advancing on the man.

“Watch your mouth,” Morgan warned, his glare intense. He nearly shoved the man but
stopped himself.

Rossi asked Reid. “Does he always act like that?”

“No. Only when he’s really pissed off.”

“Hmm.”

The agents followed the landlord to Goehring’s rundown shack.

“Piece of advice, pipe cleaner. The way you wear that gun, you’re just asking for someone to
take it from you. Do you even know how to use it?” The landlord muttered as Reid passed by,
just out of Morgan’s earshot.
The team discovered that Goehring had a partner. They tracked the new suspect, Henry, to the
middle of the desert, where he forced the victim out of the car. After a confrontation, the
unsub was shot, and the team successfully saved the last victim.

***

Back at the Montana Police Station, Morgan tidied up around the desk while Reid sat beside
him.

“Thanks for… getting upset on my behalf earlier,” Reid said. “Even though it wasn’t
necessary.”

“What, that pipe cleaner remark?” Morgan’s face still held traces of irritation.

“Reid, don’t be a pushover. I don’t like people calling you names—tell them to back off.”

“You let Garcia call you a ‘statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder.’”

“That’s not name-calling. That’s a compliment.”

“I don’t care what people call me, actually.” Reid leaned back in his chair. “Do you think I’m
too skinny?”

Morgan shot him a look. “Didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think?”

“I care what you think.”

Morgan paused, his gaze lingering on Reid’s easy posture.

“You’re fine.”

“Just ‘fine,’ huh?” Reid turned his chair, eyes on the ceiling.

Morgan smirked. “You’re a sexy, slender man with a gorgeous face. Happy?”

Reid turned back to him. “You mean that?”

“Mm-hmm. Most girls would fall for you—if you keep your mouth shut.”

Reid gave him a dramatic pout.

Morgan laughed.

The local officers had left, leaving the room quiet. Reid stopped spinning his chair and turned
to face Morgan.

“Morgan… I think I’ve come to terms with Gideon leaving.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows, studying Reid’s face.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

“You helped with that, actually.” Reid offered a small smile but quickly grew flustered.

“Oh! Uh… I’m not—I’m not talking about the night you held me in bed.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Both men flushed red, and an awkward
silence settled between them. Reid shifted, forcing himself to regain composure.

“I meant… when you let me read your testimony. You showed me your vulnerability. It made
me realize you have your own struggles. And I figured… the same applies to Gideon. And
my dad. They’re not perfect. They had their reasons.”

Morgan reached over and patted Reid’s head gently. With a shy smile, Reid glanced down.

“So… what do you think about Agent Rossi?” Morgan asked, curious about how Reid felt
regarding Gideon’s replacement.

“I like him. It’s an honor to work with him, really.”

“Think he’s a good profiler?”

“One of the best. No question. I’ve read everything about him.”

“Hmm.”

Morgan fell quiet, reflecting on his earlier conversation with Rossi.

After the case wrapped up, they had stood together on a hill in the Montana desert.

“So, what made you come back?” Morgan had asked.

“Unfinished business,” Rossi replied.

Morgan snorted, unimpressed. “There’s one thing you’ll learn about me, Rossi—I’m
relentless. I’ll find out.”

Rossi gave a knowing smile. “Agent Morgan. I’ve already learned something about you.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

The question completely caught Morgan off guard.

“What? Who?”

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Morgan inhaled sharply, his usual confidence slipping. “Uh… I don’t know if that’s…”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Rossi assured him, raising an eyebrow.

After a beat of silence, Morgan finally spoke.

“Yes, sir. I think I do.”

 Daydream

Dr. Spencer Reid had many secrets now.

He secretly enjoyed watching Morgan play the bad cop. Right now, Morgan was in the
middle of an intense interrogation, his voice booming with a threatening edge.

“Oh, you want to go home? Well that ain’t about to happen, so why don’t you come over here
and sit your ass down. I SAID SIT DOWN!!!”

Impressive... Reid’s eyes widened in admiration as he shoved a big piece of donut into his
mouth.

It was that contrast—Morgan’s rough, commanding side against the soft warmth he reserved
just for him—that tickled something inside the young man, making him smile with a mixture
of amusement and affection.

Reid also secretly enjoyed watching Morgan play sports.

Morgan often joined his coworkers for casual pick-up games at the FBI gym after work.

In the FBI gym’s well-lit space, Morgan was in his element, dribbling with smooth agility
and sinking shots with effortless precision.

On the sidelines, Reid leaned casually against the wall, trying to look nonchalant but unable
to tear his eyes away from Morgan’s performance. He shifted his weight from one foot to the
other, pretending to enjoy his coffee, but his gaze kept drifting back to Morgan.

Suddenly, a voice whispered right next to Reid’s ear.

“He is so hot, isn’t he?“

“Mmm!!!“ He jumped and spilled his coffee.

“Garcia!”

She laughed.

“You were lusting after Derek Morgan.”

“Wha...I…I, I wasn’t! I was just, just watching the game!” He stammered, pushing up his
glasses.

“Genius, I sometimes doubt if you really have an IQ of 187.“

Morgan, catching sight of Reid and Garcia, raised his hand in their direction before making a
spectacular three-pointer. The move earned him cheers from his teammates, and Reid’s face
turned a faint shade of pink as he quickly looked down at his coffee.

“Hey, you guys came to watch the game?” Morgan called out, jogging over to the sideline
with a wide grin.

Reid seemed to struggle to maintain his composure.

“Yeah, you’re... uh... really good out there.”

“Thanks, man.“

Morgan gave Reid a friendly pat on the back and went back to the game.

Garcia looked at the boy genius meaningfully with a wide grin.

“You are so cute, young doctor,“ she said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

But Reid's secrets didn’t stop at stolen glances.

He secretly daydreamed about Morgan.

Alone at home, he would breathe in the scent of the cologne Morgan had given him,
imagining the warmth of his embrace. It was his way of pushing back old wounds and the
pull of cravings for drugs. He told himself it was harmless—just a safer way to cope.

Lately, however, Reid’s daydreams had shifted. Morgan didn’t just embrace him—he kissed
him now. And when Reid pictured Morgan’s hands cradling his face, his lips brushing against
his own, he would shake his head, trying to dismiss the thought.

Dr. Spencer Reid had many secrets now. And despite his extraordinary intelligence, he wasn’t
sure how to handle any of them.
 Shooting Range
Chapter Summary

“Here, let me show you a few tricks.”

Morgan placed his hands over Reid’s, guiding them to grip the gun properly. Their
bodies pressed together, and Reid felt his heart race, unable to concentrate on the target.

The week had been relatively quiet for the BAU team, with no active cases. Reid took
advantage of the lull to focus on case reviews and analysis, working on developing case
studies and handling administrative tasks like preparing reports.

However, he knew he needed to address his training and skill development, particularly in
shooting, which he considered a weakness.

“Piece of advice, pipe cleaner. The way you wear that gun, you're begging someone to take it
off you. Do you even know how to use it?”

The landlord's words echoed in Reid's mind.

Reid had to admit that he wasn't confident in his shooting skills. The team was cautious about
placing him in situations requiring gunfire unless absolutely necessary, which led him to put
off practice. Besides, shooting wasn’t something he enjoyed, so he had been avoiding the
range altogether.

Reid sighed and reluctantly stood from his chair.

He cleared his throat before knocking on the door.

“Hotch. Got a minute?”

Hotch looked up from his desk, eyes tired but attentive.

“Sure, Reid. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with my shooting practice.”

“I’d like to, but I’m swamped with these reports. How about I get Morgan to help you
instead?”

“Morgan? Uh... you know what, on second thought, I think I can handle it myself.”
Since Morgan had started kissing him in his daydreams, Reid had been trying to avoid him.
He didn’t like the feeling that his emotions were getting out of control.

Reid was heading to the shooting range when Morgan caught up to him.

“Why didn't you come to me earlier?”

“What?”

“Hotch told me you wanted to do firearms training?”

“You don't have to come.”

“I’m just gonna do my own training.”

In the dimly lit FBI shooting range, the sharp clack of bullets punctuated the air as Reid
focused intently on his target. Each shot seemed to veer off course, causing him to frown in
frustration. In the adjacent booth, Morgan’s shots were smooth and precise, each one hitting
the bullseye with effortless accuracy. Reid couldn’t help but sulk, his shoulders slumping as
he watched Morgan’s impressive display.

Morgan noticed Reid’s glum demeanor and sauntered over with a playful grin.

“Need a hand there, pretty boy?”

He teased, leaning against the partition separating their booths.

Reid looked up, his expression a mix of irritation and embarrassment.

“I can never be good at this.”

Morgan chuckled, stepping closer.

“You’re so much better than two years ago. Here, let me show you a few tricks.”

He placed his hands over Reid’s, guiding them to grip the gun properly. Their bodies pressed
together, and Reid felt his heart race, unable to concentrate on the target.

Morgan’s fingers brushed against Reid’s. Morgan glanced sideways, noticing the sudden
tension.

“Hey, you okay?”

Morgan asked, his tone shifting from playful to concerned as he felt the young man’s nervous
energy.

Reid swallowed, trying to focus on Morgan’s instructions.

“Yeah, just... a bit distracted.”

Morgan’s own nerves began to tingle as he felt Reid’s proximity.

“Distracted by what?”

He asked, his voice faltering slightly.

Reid stammered.

“Um..it..its, it's nothing.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Morgan leaned in closer, his breath warm against Reid’s ear.

“I think you’re letting your nerves get the better of you. Just breathe and keep your focus on
the target.”

Reid nodded, trying to steady his breathing, but the closeness made it even harder to
concentrate.

“Right. Breathe. Got it.”

Morgan noticed Reid’s flushed cheeks and felt his own face heat up.

“You know, we don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

He offered, his voice softening.

“No, I’m...I’m okay.”

Morgan, now feeling hot himself, took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“Alright, then. Keep your aim steady.”

As they continued, both agents couldn't help feeling a flutter of emotions, acutely aware of
each other’s presence.
 Prayer
Chapter Summary

Reid tried to recite more verses, but Morgan abruptly pulled him into a hug.

“Take me to the forest. Reid.”

Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 3, Episode 8.

Rossi had been observing Agent Morgan throughout the case. It didn’t take a profiler to
notice that Morgan was unusually tense around the church and the priest. When Rossi
instructed him to interview Father Marks, Morgan’s discomfort was palpable. His hostility
toward the priest, while not overt, remained evident.

At one point, Father Marks confronted Morgan directly.

“What happened to you?” the priest asked. “Only someone who grew up with religion could
have so much contempt for a priest he hardly knows.”

Morgan’s reply was bitter.

“When I was a kid, something bad was happening to me. And I went to church every day.
And I prayed. I prayed for it to stop, and you know what God did? Nothing.”

“He never gives us more than we can handle,” Father Marks responded.

“Your God expects too much from thirteen-year-old boys,” Morgan shot back.

***

Reid glanced at his phone for the umpteenth time, debating whether to call Morgan. He had
been avoiding calling him after work, but Morgan’s concerning behavior today made the call
feel necessary.

After a deep breath, he dialed his number. When Morgan answered, his voice was steady,
almost cheery.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?”

Reid hesitated. “Morgan, you looked a bit off today. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Morgan said. Reid could hear faint background noise of music, people, and
clinking glasses.

“Just needed a change of scenery. I’m out with Prentiss at the bar.”

“Alright, as long as you’re okay. Just checking.”

“Thanks for calling. See you tomorrow.”

As Reid hung up, he shook his head, dismissing the nagging feeling.

***

The clock on Reid’s wall ticked past midnight when he heard a knock on his door. He opened
it to find Morgan standing there.

“What are you doing? It’s past twelve,” Reid said, rubbing his eyes.

Morgan leaned heavily against the doorframe.

“Sorry, Reid. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Reid wrinkled his nose, catching a strong whiff of alcohol.

“You stink. Did you just leave the bar?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I just... wanted to see you.”

Reid sighed, stepping aside to let him in.

“You owe me an explanation—and a shower.”

***

After a shower, Morgan sank onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Reid settled next to him,
waiting for him to start.

Morgan stared at the floor, gathering his thoughts. “You know a lot about the Bible, right?”

Reid nodded. “I think so.”

Morgan looked up, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Do you believe in God? If that’s too
personal, you don’t have to answer.”

Reid tilted his head, considering. “It’s okay. I’m still trying to figure it out. But one thing I
know—the Bible actually makes a lot more sense than most people think.”

Reid looked into Morgan’s eyes and asked, “Does this have something to do with today’s
case?”
“When I told Father Marks about what happened to me when I was a child, he said God
never gives us more than we can handle.”

Reid frowned. “God didn’t give you the suffering, Morgan. Buford did.”

Morgan’s face fell. “Why didn’t God stop it, though? I prayed every day.”

“It’s not God who didn’t stop your suffering. It’s the abuser who didn’t stop it. If Father
Marks was referring to 1 Corinthians 10:13, he’s wrong. The verse says, ‘No temptation has
overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be
tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out
so that you can endure it.’ It’s about self-control, not suffering.”

Morgan’s eyes glistened with frustration. “But how could God allow child abuse?”

Reid sighed deeply. “Well, the orthodox answer would be that God has given every individual
the freedom to choose between good and evil. He’s given people the freedom to sin.”

“I don’t like that answer.”

Morgan shook his head. “Do you remember Katie? Her uncle was sexually abusing her. She
was only seven. What does God say to the victims? ‘I’m sorry that happened to you’?”

Reid paused for a minute and recited a verse. “Psalm 34:18: ‘The Lord is close to the
brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’”

“That’s not good enough,” Morgan mumbled, shaking his head.

Reid continued. “Revelation 21:4: ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no
more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’”

“Not enough.”

“Lamentations 3:22: ‘Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his
compassions never fail. They are new every morning.’”

Reid tried to recite more verses, but Morgan abruptly pulled him into a hug.

“Take me to the forest. Reid.”

“What? Forest?”

“Yeah... the... forest of comfort.”

“...The symphony?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“...Okay.”
Reid gently pulled himself from Morgan’s embrace, stood up, and walked to the record
player.

“You call it the ‘forest of comfort,’ huh?” Reid chuckled.

“It just came out,” Morgan said, feeling embarrassed. Reid laughed some more.

“You didn’t find comfort at the bar?”

“Nah. I found noise and distraction.”

Reid set the vinyl on the record player. “I’ll skip to the third movement...”

“Can you fast forward on the record player?” Morgan asked, curious.

“You can’t really ‘fast forward’ a vinyl record like you would with a digital media player.
You have to manually lift the tonearm and move it to the spot on the record.”

Reid carefully lifted the tonearm and let it land on the black surface. “There.”

It was just the right place, and the beginning of the third movement started. Reid’s eyes lit up.

“I’m a genius!” He looked at Morgan and grinned. “I mean, literally.”

Morgan let out a smile.

Reid sat next to Morgan and held out a hand to him. “I’ll take you to the forest, Morgan.”

Morgan took Reid’s hand.

Both men sat on the sofa comfortably. Morgan closed his eyes.
 Penelope
Chapter Summary

In a burst of frustration, Morgan pounded the wall with his fist.

“Morgan, you need to stay calm,“ Reid told him.

“Don't tell me what to be.“

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 3, Episode 9. It's Novemver 2007.

The news that Penelope Garcia had been shot shocked the entire team.

In the emergency room, the atmosphere was tense and urgent. Doctors and nurses worked
swiftly around Garcia, who was pale and unconscious.

“She’s losing too much blood,” the doctor said sharply. “She’s in v-tach. Pressure’s dropping
—67 over 42.”

All BAU members gathered in the hospital except for Morgan.

“Morgan's phone just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Reid said, frustrated.

“Where the hell is he?” Emily’s voice was also on edge.

After an hour, Morgan arrived, visibly panicked.

“She’s been in surgery for a couple of hours,” JJ informed him.

“I was at church. My phone was off.”

Morgan grimaced, feeling stupid and guilty for trying to find solace in prayer while Garcia's
life hung in the balance. He clenched his fist, vowing that if anything happened to Garcia, he
would never pray again. He felt betrayed by God.

“There’s nothing you could have been doing here,” Reid said, trying to console him.

Morgan just glared at Reid and turned to Hotch. “The police got any leads?”
“I spoke to the lead detective. He doesn’t think we’ll get anything from the scene,” Hotch
replied.

Morgan rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Reid said.

“It’s okay.” Morgan answered quickly without glancing at Reid.

“The doctor said it would take a few hours after surgery for her to be able to speak. You
should—”

“I said it’s okay!” Morgan snapped. He was irritated with Reid, feeling as though Reid was
partly responsible for tricking him into going to church and praying.

***

Hotch scanned the faces of his team and spoke in a calm, measured tone. Despite his usual
adherence to protocol, today he was making an exception.

“I don’t care about protocol,” he began. “I don’t care whether we’re handling this officially or
not. We’re not taking on any new cases until we find out who did this.”

The team nodded in agreement. Hotch continued, “David and I will head to the scene. The
rest of you should stay here and be ready when she wakes up.”

***

Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Reid stood around Garcia.

“How are you feeling?” Morgan asked gently.

“Confused...stupid, and...in pain.”

Looking at Garcia, Morgan felt like crying. Garcia continued, “I never saw it coming. He
seemed...deliciously normal.”

The agents' eyes widened. “You know him?” Reid asked.

“You were right,” Garcia told Morgan. “It’s that guy I told you about. The one I met at the
coffee shop. I wanted to believe he was interested in me.”

Morgan closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in anguish.

***

Morgan cradled his head in his hands as they left the room. In a burst of frustration, he
pounded the wall with his fist.

“Morgan, you need to stay calm,” Reid told him.

“Don’t tell me what to be.” Morgan pointed his index finger at Reid’s chest aggressively.

He saw the hurt in Reid’s eyes and felt a sharp pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice
trembling slightly. “That was... that was out of line. I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I’m
really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Reid said quietly.

After a few minutes of silence, Morgan started talking to Reid about Garcia. “When she told
me about this 'smoking hot' guy, I was a little skeptical. I told her she shouldn't go out with
him.”

Morgan sighed and continued, “But then she got mad at me. She thought I was skeptical
because a smoking hot guy wouldn’t be interested in her.”

“That he might have an ulterior motive?” Reid asked.

“Yes. I didn’t mean that, but she thought I did. And she called me superficial.”

Morgan looked confused and hurt. “I asked her to go out last night so we could talk. But she
was still pissed at me. She blew me off.”

“So you ended up in church?”

“Yeah.” Morgan looked at Reid. “What does it mean? On one hand, if she'd gone out with
me, she would have never gotten shot. On the other hand... What are the odds that the first
time I pray in 20 years, she's on the table?”

His face flushed with frustration and anger. “'His compassions never fail'? Are you serious?”

He caught himself about to accuse Reid again over the verse he recited the other night. He
sighed and said, “I’m sorry.”

Emily hurried to Morgan and Reid. “I just talked to Hotch. They think the suspect used a
revolver so he wouldn't leave shell casings behind as evidence.”

“What about witnesses?” Morgan asked.

“None so far. And he staged it to look like a robbery,” Emily said.

Reid analyzed, “Which means if he's smart enough to use forensic countermeasures, the
name he gave Garcia is probably bogus.”

Hotch instructed Morgan and Reid to conduct a cognitive interview with Garcia to elicit more
information about the suspect.

Morgan was grateful he could work on this with Reid. Every agent at BAU agreed Dr. Reid
was particularly skilled at performing cognitive interviews. Reid’s exceptional memory,
intelligence, and understanding of human behavior made him effective in eliciting detailed
and accurate information from witnesses and suspects. His expertise in psychological
techniques, combined with his ability to recall minute details, helped him excel in cognitive
interviews.

“You two are conducting the cognitive interview with me?” Garcia chuckled. “That’s like
every girl’s fantasy, you know, being interviewed by two handsome FBI agents.”

Reid smiled at her.

“Penelope, I know it's gotta be hard to keep reliving this, but...” Morgan started to say, but
Reid signaled him to stop by touching his hand. “Don’t make her nervous,” his eyes said, and
Morgan nodded.

“Let’s start with the behavior,” Reid suggested in a lighter tone. “That’s all profiling really is,
just noticing behavior. Okay?”

Garcia relaxed and nodded. “All right, so let’s go back to when you first arrived at that
restaurant. Was he nervous?”

“No... The opposite, actually...”

The interview was over, but Garcia continued sharing her perceptions, and both agents
listened intently.

“When I was in the ambulance, I could hear the song 'Heroes' playing in my head. I kept
flashing in and out of consciousness. Everything was really bright. And I remember thinking,
wait... is David Bowie really God?”

Morgan and Reid let out a small laugh.

Garcia opened her eyes and looked at both agents. “You know, the doctor said the bullet went
into my chest and ricocheted into my abdomen.”

Morgan frowned, imagining the pain she went through. “One centimeter over and it would
have torn right through my heart. He said it was a miracle. Maybe someone out there was
praying for me.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Reid.

After the BAU discovered that the suspect was an FBI agent, the case took a dramatic turn.
The suspect boldly walked into the BAU office, seized an Internal Affairs agent, and held a
gun to his head. Rossi and Hotch tried to de-escalate the situation, but the suspect was too
caught up in his own monologue to listen. Suddenly, JJ arrived and, with decisive action, shot
the suspect, resolving the crisis in a tense and unexpected moment.

After a few days, Garcia was released from the hospital, and Morgan escorted her back to her
apartment.

“Go. Be free, my love.”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

Garcia smiled and continued, “If you're thinking of trying to take advantage of me...” Garcia
waved a finger at Morgan, “Let me call my doctor so he can revive me afterward.”

Morgan laughed.

“Hey, silly girl.”

“Hm?”

“I love you. You know that, right?” Morgan’s tone was sincere and warm.

“I love you, too.” Garcia smiled.

“Go to bed.”

Garcia started heading to her room, then stopped. “Take care of my Dr. Handsome Reid,
okay?”

“Reid? Why?”

“JJ told me he burst into tears when he saw me, fearing that he would lose me.”

“He did?”

“Derek, you were so caught up in worrying about me that you forgot it was hard for everyone
else, too.”

Garcia’s words struck Morgan like a thunderbolt.

 Distancing
Chapter Summary

Morgan shifted uneasily.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I actually have plans.”
Morgan sighed, frustration mixing with concern.
“How about Sunday?”
Reid’s silence stretched out before he replied, “I’m not sure.”

Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 10. It's November, 2007.
Reid is 26, Morgan is 34 years old.

During the five days Garcia was in the hospital, Morgan saw Reid at work every day but
never apologized. It’s only now that he realizes his mistake and regrets missing the
opportunity to make amends.

After leaving Garcia’s apartment, Morgan called Reid immediately.

“Reid, um… can I come over?”

“I’m really tired, Morgan. I was hoping to get some rest.”

Morgan hesitated, sensing the distance in Reid’s tone.

“I understand. Can we just talk for a minute?”

“...All right.”

Morgan’s unease grew as he heard the detachment in Reid’s voice.

“About the last case… I’m sorry for taking my frustrations out on you. I didn’t realize you
were having a rough time too.”

Reid’s response was calm but distant.

“It’s okay, Morgan.”

Morgan shifted uneasily.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I actually have plans.”

“How about Sunday?”

Reid’s silence stretched out before he replied, “I’m not sure.”

Morgan sighed, frustration mixing with concern.

“Alright, some other time then. Sorry for calling so late. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Morgan hung up and stared out at the street, reflecting on the case.

When I got to the hospital, I didn't even look at Reid’s face. Garcia said Reid was crying, so
probably his eyes were red. I didn't notice. I was pissed that I was late. I was pissed that God
let this happen while I was praying. And I snapped at Reid. More than once. At one point, I
even jabbed my finger at his chest, warning him not to tell me how to feel, even though Reid
was only trying to offer comfort.

Morgan put his hand over his mouth, closed his eyes, and furrowed his brows in deep regret.

I was beyond stupid.

The fact that Reid didn't sound angry devastated him. He wished Reid were angry. Then
Morgan could try to make amends. He would apologize sincerely. He would be extra nice and
sweet until Reid smiled. Maybe if he bought cookies again, Reid might laugh and tease him
with that endearing grin. But no. Reid wan’t angry. He was distancing himself. He was
probably disappointed in him.

Morgan recalled the night they had gone stargazing when Reid had confessed his fear of
losing him. Morgan had held Reid close, promising that it would never happen.

But now Morgan was wondering.

Am I the one who is losing him?

The thought left him feeling utterly devastated.

***

After hanging up the phone, Reid collapsed onto the bed, relieved that he hadn't stammered.
Did I manage to sound tired and nonchalant as intended?

Reid lay back, holding an aquablue bottle up to the light to admire its vibrant color. He
opened the cap, inhaled the scent, and closed his eyes. No kiss... no kiss... he told himself.
Just imagine the embrace. The warmth of Morgan’s strong arms.

Suddenly, he remembered how their bodies had pressed together at the shooting range when
Morgan was showing him some techniques. He recalled the fleeting touch of Morgan’s
fingers brushing his and the warmth of his breath against his ear as he spoke. Reid’s eyes
flew open.

This is exactly why I can't meet him.

He gripped his pillow tightly. I can't let Morgan realize it. Morgan doesn’t like men looking
at him that way. Over a year ago, Reid had overheard a conversation between Garcia and
Morgan about relationships. Garcia had teased Morgan about his many dates, asking if he’d
ever dated men. Reid vividly remembered Morgan’s response: “I have never dated a man,
and I never will.” At the time, Reid didn’t think much of it. Later, when he learned about his
past trauma, Morgan's firm denial made sense.

***

Morgan and Reid were driving to the crime scene through the busy streets of LA.

“Can I come over to your place this weekend?” Morgan asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“Come on, Reid, you cannot be that busy. What are you doing?”

“I’m not obliged to answer that.”

Morgan sighed.

“How about after work?”

“Morgan, you are sounding desperate.”

“I kinda am,” Morgan admitted, and Reid fell silent.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“Morgan, focus on driving. We are getting off at Van Nuys.”

“Huh? No, we are not.”

“Trust me. Get off at Van Nuys, then get on the southbound 405 from Burbank. It will save us
time.”

“I’m not gonna go the long way around.”

“Morgan, you are making a mistake.”

***

After being stuck in traffic at the interchange for over half an hour, they finally made it to the
crime scene.

JJ could hear the familiar bickering approaching.

“You should have listened to me!”

Reid huffed, getting out of the car.

“It wouldn’t have saved that much time, Reid. Let it go.”

“The interchange between the 405 and 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst
interchange in the entire world.”

“Why do you know that?” Morgan scoffed.

“It’s in the government report.”

“So what?”

“So, you work for the government. You don’t read the reports?”

Reid said, his tone condescending. Now Morgan was highly annoyed.

“On traffic patterns in a city twenty-five hundred miles away from where I live?”

“Twenty-two hundred and ninety-five miles,” Reid corrected him.

“Do not make me smack you in front of all these people.”

JJ introduced them to Detective Brady.

“Agent Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, the rest of the team’s arriving soon.”

“They’re stuck in traffic too.”

Reid said, glancing at Morgan with a hint of a smirk, to which Morgan frowned.

***

JJ was somewhat relieved to see the two acting like brothers again. For the last few days, she
couldn’t help but notice the distance between them. It seemed they couldn’t hold the silence
for too long, though. She glanced at Reid, who was sitting across from her, reading
something intently, while Morgan talked on the phone with Garcia, passing by near JJ and
Reid.
“Garcia, just leave it alone until I get there. Hey, hey, hardhead! Don’t make me spank you
when I get back…”

Reid interjected loudly, “Don’t listen to him, Garcia, he’s all talk…”

Morgan smacked Reid’s head lightly.

“Aah! JJ! He just hit me!”

“Boys, behave, or I will ground you both,” JJ said, shaking her head.

***

At work, the interactions between Morgan and Reid appeared almost normal. They bickered
over minor issues and irritated each other. But outside of work, they lost touch. Reid never
called, and despite Morgan's occasional attempts to reach out, Reid never made time to meet.

Morgan deeply missed the closeness they once shared and often considered showing up at
Reid's door. However, he refrained from doing so, worried that he might push Reid further
away.

Morgan couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to shake the feeling of emptiness.
He missed their conversations outside of work, the shared cups of tea, and playing chess,
even though Reid never let him win. He longed for the moments of wrapping his arms around
Reid, holding his hand, and gently touching his hair. Morgan let out a heavy sigh,
overwhelmed by the ache of missing those simple, cherished moments.

***

Morgan had a dream. He was gazing at the Summer Triangle while Reid lethargically drew
constellations on his back. In the dream, Morgan felt a deep sense of relief having Reid by his
side again. The touch of Reid’s fingers on his back and the sensation of his soft hair brushing
against Morgan’s cheek filled him with contentment.

Reid’s hand then moved from Morgan’s back to the nape of his neck, and he began to kiss
Morgan. Overwhelmed by the moment, Morgan held Reid’s face and kissed him back.

“Reid, I love you,” Morgan confessed, his emotions so intense it felt like he was drowning.
He pressed his body tightly against Reid’s until there was no more room. He kissed him
again, more passionately this time. His fingers touched Reid’s soft, curly hair. “Reid, I love
you,” he repeated, hoping to hear those words in return. But Reid remained silent.

When he woke up, his heart was pounding. He realized his trunks were wet, which
dumbfounded him.

Oh shit...

Morgan rubbed his face in disbelief.

What am I doing...?
He had never had a wet dream before, not even as a teenager.

***

After the dream, Morgan stopped calling Reid and began dating women again. His
relationships were casual—nothing serious, just short-term flings or even one-night stands.
Since the Tobias Hankel case in February, he hadn’t been intimate with anyone. He had been
preoccupied with checking on Reid and making sure he was always available for him.
Though he didn’t mind the absence of women in his life at that time, now that he’s back in
the dating scene, he enjoyed the way women admired him. It distracted Morgan from missing
Reid so much.

***

The November air grew colder, and the city began to take on a Christmas vibe. Shopping
malls were adorned with festive decorations, reminding Morgan of last December when he
and Reid had pretended to be a couple at a mall and unexpectedly ran into Hotch. Morgan
chuckled at the memory. Back then, pretending to be a couple was easy since they were just
friends. Now, his feelings for Reid were much more complicated. Morgan wondered where
their relationship might lead in the coming year.
 Define Love
Chapter Summary

“Have you ever loved someone?”

JJ asked Morgan with a smile.

Before Morgan could answer, Reid interjected.

“He loves everyone. Trust me, he’d risk his life for someone he just met.”

Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 11. It's December, 2007.

The BAU team had organized a potluck Christmas party this year, and Morgan’s house was
chosen for its convenient location and ample space. By Saturday evening, the house was alive
with the warmth and laughter of friends celebrating the holiday season.

When Reid arrived, the party was already in full swing. Garcia greeted him at the door with a
big hug.

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Handsome,” she beamed.

“Merry Christmas,” Reid replied, smiling.

Clooney bounded over, tail wagging furiously, and leaped into Reid’s lap. Reid patted the
dog’s head. “Hey, buddy.”

He set down a bottle of sparkling cider and a bag of quiches from the bakery on the table
before taking a seat on the sofa. Clooney nestled beside him, content.

Morgan, watching the scene with a smile, commented, “Looks like Clooney missed you a
lot.”

“Yeah, I missed him too,” Reid said softly. During his withdrawal from dilaudid, Clooney
had been a comforting presence, curled up beside him through nausea and depression.

Morgan couldn’t help but notice Reid's choice of food—only sweets. Cookies, cakes, and
jello, especially those Christmas finger jellos layered in green and red, seemed to be his
favorites. He kept eating them. At Garcia’s request, Reid performed a few magic tricks,
drawing delighted laughter from her and Emily.

***

Reid felt a bit strange to be at Morgan’s house with the BAU members. When he went to the
bathroom, he noticed his toothbrush and toothpaste still sitting in the cabinet. Suddenly Reid
was reminded how much he missed this place.

After checking that nobody was coming, he quietly opened the bedroom door. Morgan’s bed
was as he remembered—neat and simple. The light gray metal frame held a crisp white sheet
set, with a few pillows arranged neatly at the head of the bed. A lightweight gray comforter
was evenly spread over the mattress. Reid missed his bed. He missed the pillow that smelled
of Morgan.

As the evening progressed, the room filled with the lively energy of tipsy guests. Their
laughter and animated conversations mingled with the soft strains of holiday music.

Garcia, now quite tipsy, hung mistletoe from one of the light fixtures and pulled Morgan
beneath it, planting a light kiss on his lips. Then she called Reid over.

“Come here, boy genius.”

“Garcia, did you know one single kiss can transfer up to 80 million bacteria?” Reid informed.

“Oh, shut up, Einstein,” Garcia laughed, pulling him closer.

“I’m letting you kiss me just this once because you got shot,” Reid said with mock
seriousness.

“Okay,” Garcia grinned, leaning in for the kiss.

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Reid gathered around a poker table, their conversation drifting from
one topic to another. They reminisced about past cases.

“Do you think Frank Breitkopf really loved Jane?” JJ asked, her gaze fixed on her cards.

“No,” Morgan answered decisively. “It was twisted satisfaction, not love.”

“I agree,” Emily added.

“Define love,” JJ challenged.

Reid jumped in, “Technically it involves certain brain elements called monoamines,
dopamine, neropinephrine, and serotonins.”
Morgan sighed, while JJ and Emily chuckled.

“And how do you define love, Derek?” Emily asked, turning to him.

“Self-sacrifice,” Morgan replied. “When you truly love someone, you’d be willing to die for
them.”

“Good one,” Emily nodded.

“Have you ever loved someone?” JJ asked Morgan with a smile.

Before Morgan could answer, Reid interjected. “He loves everyone. Trust me, he’d risk his
life for someone he just met. Remember Dr. Brazier?”

Reid turned to Morgan, his tone serious. “You disobeyed orders and stayed with Dr. Brazier
while Cassandra disarmed the bomb. You could have died.”

“I couldn’t leave her alone,” Morgan said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“See?” Reid persisted.

“That was over a year ago,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, so?”

The room fell quiet as everyone sensed Reid’s real irritation. Reid quickly shifted the topic,
trying to mask his frustration.

Morgan’s reckless bravery had always been a source of distress for Reid. Morgan’s
willingness to risk his life for others, even for someone he barely knew, was both admirable
and troubling. Reid glanced at Morgan, recognizing the same foolish heroism he admired and
loved. At that moment Morgan looked at Reid and their eyes met. Reid looked away quickly.

***

Reid offered to help clean up after the party, since he was the only one who hadn’t been
drinking and could drive home. They didn’t talk much, tossing leftover food and paper plates,
wiping the table, and vacuuming efficiently. Reid knew the house well, which made it easier.

Reid spotted the mistletoe Garcia had hung and struggled to get the tape off. Morgan noticed
and stepped over to help. For a moment, their fingers touched, and Reid blushed.

Almost simultaneously, they realized they were standing under the mistletoe. Their eyes met,
and Reid quickly stepped back, face turning red.

“What? I’m not gonna kiss you without your consent,” Morgan said jokingly. Reid didn’t
laugh.

***
“Thank you for your help.” Morgan said as they finished loading the dishwasher and the
house was clean.

“Thank you for hosting the party,” Reid replied with a smile. “It was a lot of fun.”

After putting on his coat, Reid turned to Morgan, hesitantly.

“Morgan, about the case in Seattle...” Reid began.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Are you still talking about me staying with Dr. Brazier?”

Reid paused, biting his bottom lip before looking at Morgan. “Can you not do that again?”

“Do what?” Morgan asked, growing frustrated.

“Risk your life like that.”

“Reid, we risk our lives every day. We’re FBI, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“You’re right, but you often go beyond what’s necessary. Staying with Dr. Brazier didn’t
change the outcome. If the bomb had gone off, the only difference would’ve been whether we
had one body or two.”

Morgan was about to protest but stopped, sensing Reid’s struggle to hold back tears.

“Okay, I won’t do that again,” Morgan said, his voice softer.

Reid looked at Morgan skeptically.

Morgan touched Reid’s cheek gently. “I’ll be more careful.”

“You should be,” Reid replied, looking away.

At the door, they shared a light hug.

“See you on Monday,” Reid said.

“Yeah,” Morgan replied.

Morgan leaned against the doorframe, watching as Reid walked to his car. Reid glanced back
once before driving away.
 Girl Talk
Chapter Summary

“JJ, I saw it,” Garcia insisted.

“Saw what?” JJ asked.

“Reid’s toothbrush and toothpaste in Morgan’s bathroom.” Garcia said, her tone as
serious as a murder case.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia were at a bar, deep in discussion. After dealing with an unwelcome
faux FBI agent hitting on Emily, Garcia leaned in and said, “Alright, ladies, we need to talk
about Reid and Morgan.”

JJ raised an eyebrow and smiled, while Emily gave a knowing nod. “I know,” she said.

Garcia continued, “Seriously, who has seen them flirting?”

Emily shook her head and took a sip of her cocktail. “Are you kidding? It’s impossible to
miss. And the way Morgan looks at Reid these days...”

“I’m convinced they’re dating,” Garcia declared.

JJ shook her head. “I don’t think so. Morgan’s just being overprotective. And they simply like
to be around each other and…bicker like brothers do.”

“JJ, I saw it,” Garcia insisted.

“Saw what?” JJ asked.

“Reid’s toothbrush and toothpaste in Morgan’s bathroom.”

JJ frowned. “I didn’t see anything.”

“I opened the cabinet,” Garcia said, her tone as serious as a murder case.

“Of course you did,” JJ replied, nodding.

“How did you know it was Reid’s?” Emily asked.

“Because it was Marvis,” Garcia said.

“What’s that?” Emily asked.

“It’s Italian toothpaste with a delicious green tea flavor. I introduced Reid to it. I use the same
kind.”

“So, he stays overnight at Morgan’s place?” JJ said, looking stunned.

“Oh my gosh, just imagine them... doing all sorts of things,” Garcia said, fanning herself
dramatically.

Emily nearly choked on her drink. “Garcia, don’t go there.”

“It’s too late. It’s so sexy, my brain’s about to explode,” Garcia said, eyes wide.

JJ laughed. “I can’t imagine Spence being all that sexy. It would be... awkward.”

Emily groaned. “Stop it, you two! Now those images are stuck in my head!”

Garcia mimicked Morgan’s voice, “Reid, just relax.”

“Garcia!” JJ protested, covering her ears.

The girls burst into laughter, unable to contain their amusement.

 Sanctuary
Chapter Summary

“You're my sanctuary, where I come back for safety and comfort.”

Morgan tightened his embrace, barying his face on Reids shoulder.

“Spencer, you are my sanctuary, too.”

Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 3, Episode 12. It's January 2008. Reid is 26,
Morgan is 34 years old.

Reid stepped out of his car into the freezing air. The temperature had dropped below zero
degrees Celsius, and the cold bit at his cheeks, but he found it oddly comforting.

Morgan’s house was dimly lit. Reid sighed softly. Morgan always left a small light on in the
living room for Clooney.

As he approached the doorstep, he could hear Clooney barking behind the door. Reid
crouched down and called out, “Hey, Clooney. It’s me. Is Morgan coming back soon?”

Clooney barked in response. Reid settled on the doorstep and leaned against the front door,
letting the cold numb his body. He felt a strange sense of peace, making the turmoil he had
faced all day in his apartment seemed like a distant memory.

It had been almost six months since he had stopped taking Dilaudid, but there were times
when his body craved it desperately. Today was one of those times. The irrational fears,
depression, headaches, nausea, and trembling hands all pointed to his body’s struggle. He
knew what had triggered these symptoms.

***

The case in Chula Vista, California, had been intense. Reid was caught in a tense standoff
between the father of one of the abducted girls and the unsub. Driven by rage over his
daughter’s suffering, the father confronted the unsub with a gun.

Reid had tried to intervene by appealing to the father’s sense of justice and reason.
“Jack, you swore to your wife you'd protect Lindsey. What do you think your wife wanted
you to protect her from? Jack... your life has been, uh... it's been about violence, and if... you
do this, Lindsey's will be, too. Do you want that?”

Despite Reid’s attempts to persuade him, the father was overwhelmed by his emotions and
desire for retribution. In a moment of high tension, he shot and killed the unsub who was still
a teenager.

***

At Morgan’s house doorstep, Reid let out a small gasp as he felt something cold on his hand.
He looked up.

Snow....

Snowflakes descended slowly from the dark sky, dancing in the gentle breeze before settling
softly on Reid’s palms. It was such a serene experience. Reid watched as the snow continued
to fall, each flake a tiny, fleeting work of art, adding to the perfect stillness.

***

Morgan couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of worry.

The case in California had been tough, and the long flight back to Quantico only added to the
exhaustion. By the time they got back to Quantico, it was almost morning. Hotch had told
everyone to go home and rest for the day.

In the evening, Morgan was invited to watch a hockey game with his friends, but during
halftime, he decided to leave. His concern for Reid was too great.

Reid had witnessed the victim’s father shoot the unsub. When the team arrived, Reid was
standing there motionless.

Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and asked gently, “Are you okay, Reid?” But the young
agent was almost in a trance, mumbling, “I tried... I tried... but I couldn't...”

Morgan drove straight to Reid’s apartment. The lights were off, and his car wasn't there.
Morgan’s heart started to race. He was almost convinced Reid was at his house. He rushed
home.

***

Reid was sitting at Morgan’s doorstep, his legs crossed, gazing up at the snowflakes drifting
down.

“Reid!” Morgan rushed to his side. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Morgan.”
Reid’s pale face brightened at the sight of his friend. He stood up but staggered, his legs
numb from the cold. He steadied himself by holding onto the door.

“Look, it’s snowing, Morgan,” He spoke happily, exhaling white breaths.

Morgan cupped Reid’s face. “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” Reid mumbled, glancing at his watch. “Two hours, maybe.”

“Two hours?! Why didn’t you call me?”

“It... it felt comfortable out here. So peaceful. And... and... the snow started to fall. I was
watching the snow.”

He stammered, his teeth chattering slightly. Morgan shook his head. Reid was probably
zoning out again, unaware of the passing of time.

Once inside, Morgan wrapped him in a blanket. “I’ll get you some hot cocoa.”

Reid felt a flutter of comfort at being cared for by Morgan.

“Two hours in sub-zero temperatures? And you call ME reckless?” Morgan was exasperated.

“It didn’t feel like two hours.” Reid said, his shoulders slumping.

Morgan sighed and handed him a cup of hot cocoa.

Once Reid’s color began to return, Morgan asked, “So, what happened?”

Reid met Morgan’s gaze, his eyes troubled.

“I’m... struggling.”

Morgan nodded.

“I keep replaying the scene from the case over and over, trying to find something I could
have done differently. Then the symptoms started—nausea, headaches, my hands shaking.
My body is craving Dilaudid.”

“I’m glad that you came to me.”

“You are my drug substitute, so...”

Morgan chuckled softly. “Drug substitute, huh? I’m okay with that.”

He held out his arms. “Come here, Reid.”

Reid hesitated for a moment before nestling against Morgan’s chest, letting the blanket fall
behind him. Morgan heard Reid’s contented exhale and closed his eyes, wishing the moment
could last forever.
“Reid… I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time,” Morgan began. Immediately, Reid’s
body stiffened. Morgan tightened his embrace, unwilling to let him pull away. “But I never
had the chance because you never let me.”

Reid remained silent.

“Look. I know I disappointed you, the way I treated you when Garcia was in the hospital. I
snapped at you unfairly. I know I messed up. I made a mistake. I want you to forgive me.”

“You already apologized, and I forgave you,” Reid replied.

“Wasn’t that why you were avoiding me?”

Morgan pulled Reid off gently and looked at him.

“No. You are so off, Morgan. You should consider a different job.”

The boy genius sometimes threw insults so casually. But Morgan was so confused he couldn't
retort.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” His response was blunt.

“What did I do wrong? I need to know.”

Morgan’s desperation was evident, but he didn’t care. “Let me fix it. I want to make it up to
you.”

“You are not the problem.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“It’s something personal! Let it go! Geez!”

Morgan was taken aback by Reid’s sudden outburst.

“Okay... I won’t ask you anymore.”

He wrapped Reid in his arms once more and sighed.

“You’re so unpredictable.”

“I’m sorry,” Reid murmured.

“It’s okay... I’ll prepare myself better. I’m your drug substitute, so...”

Reid chuckled softly.

Morgan gently combed Reid’s hair with his fingers. “Come up with a better name soon,
okay?”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the warmth and comfort of the moment settling over
them. Reid’s nausea and trembling had subsided.

“Morgan,” Reid said finally in Morgan’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“You’re my sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I like it better than a drug substitute,” Morgan smiled.

“You're my sanctuary. Where I come back for safety and comfort.”

Tears unexpectedly rolled down Morgan’s face. He tightened his embrace, burying his face in
Reid’s shoulder.

“Spencer, you are my sanctuary, too.”

***

If Reid had asked to share the bed, Morgan knew he would have had to refuse this time. But
Reid didn’t. He simply thanked Morgan for letting him use the bed, and Morgan felt relieved.

He let Reid get settled first, then headed to the shower. Afterward, he noticed the bedroom
light was still on.

“Reid? Are you still awake?” Morgan whispered as he opened the door. There was no answer.

Reid lay sprawled comfortably in the middle of the bed, breathing steadily. His glasses were
still on, and a book rested on his chest. Morgan carefully removed the glasses.

As he studied his friend’s face, he was struck by how beautiful he was. His chiseled jawline
and high cheekbones were softened by sleep, giving him a calm and gentle look that made
him even more endearing. Reid’s long lashes lay against his cheeks, and his slightly parted
lips stirred a deep ache of desire in Morgan.

Reid hadn’t changed into his usual t-shirt; he still wore a bathrobe. As Morgan gently
removed the book from his hand, he noticed that the bathrobe had loosened, revealing a hint
of his chest. Morgan swallowed hard and averted his gaze.

He placed the book on the bedside table, turned off the light, and quietly closed the door.

Sighing heavily on the couch, Morgan contemplated the fragility of their friendship. It felt
precarious, as if one misstep might cause Reid to slip away.
He wondered about the ‘personal problem’ Reid had mentioned. Whatever it was, Morgan
vowed to protect him and not hurt him.

As long as I'm his sanctuary.

 In the Jet
Chapter Summary

“Can I sit with you?” Reid asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Morgan.

Chapter Notes

It's April, 2008. Reid is 26, Morgan is 34 years old.

In April, Quantico typically enjoys mild and pleasant weather. Reid and Morgan's
relationship had also grown more stable and calm. After the night Reid visited Morgan in
freezing temperature in January, he became less tense and guarded about physical closeness.
Similarly, Morgan relaxed upon realizing that Reid wasn't angry or disappointed with him.
Morgan was prepared to offer emotional support whenever Reid needed it or faced cravings.
However, that visit had remained a one-time event, and exactly three months had passed
since then.

***

The case in Pittsburgh was nearing its end. Most of the BAU team needed to remain in
Pittsburgh for a day or two longer to finalize the case management, provide additional
evidence, or offer testimony as needed.

Hotch decided to send Morgan and Reid back to Quantico first, in case a new case emerged.

As they headed toward the private jet, Reid eagerly talked about Isaac Asimov's Foundation
Trilogy to Morgan.

“It’s a landmark of science fiction's ‘Golden Age,’ you know, long been regarded as a
visionary masterpiece whose astonishing historical scope perfectly conveys science fiction's
sense of wonder.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I listened to the books on tape with Peter Coyote reading the entire Foundation trilogy too. It
was fantastic.”

“Mm-hmm.”
“The trilogy includes Foundation, Foundation and Empire, and Second Foundation. Do you
want to listen to it on the jet?”

“No... I’ll pass.”

***
Once on the jet, Morgan settled into his usual seat at the back, while Reid took a seat in the
middle, arranging his books and coffee. Morgan glanced at Reid, who was already absorbed
in his book. Morgan smiled to himself and then put on his headphones.

The flight to Quantico would take about two more hours. Reid tried to sleep but couldn’t. He
glanced at Morgan, who had his eyes closed, listening to something comfortably. Today,
Morgan is wearing one of Reid’s favorite shirts; a simple black long-sleeve shirt. Reid thinks
Morgan looks incredibly hot in that shirt. It perfectly outlines his muscle definition, from his
toned arms to his well-defined chest. Even sitting still, the shirt accentuates his physique,
making him look effortlessly attractive and confident.

Reid felt a sudden desire to sit beside him. It seemed harmless enough, didn’t it?

Morgan was startled when Reid appeared next to him, holding a book under his arm.

“Hey, kid, what’s up?” Morgan asked, removing his headphones.

“Can I sit with you?” Reid asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Morgan.

“Sure,” Morgan replied, trying to make room, but Reid added, “No, you stay there. I want to
sit by the window. Excuse me.” Reid maneuvered his way past Morgan, which mildly
annoyed him.

Once Reid was settled, Morgan asked, “So… did you want to talk about something?”

“What? No,” Reid replied quickly and dismissively, leaving Morgan puzzled.

Morgan realized that Reid simply wanted to be close to him, which flattered him. As Reid
opened his book, Morgan put his headphones back on.

Reid planned to read a little more before trying to sleep but found it hard to concentrate.
Their upper arms were almost touching, and the warmth from Morgan’s muscular arm made
him giddy. His heart raced a little. He closed his book and leaned back, closing his eyes.

“Do you want to sleep? Should I turn off the light?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know if I can sleep right away. I might read some more,” Reid replied.

“You can rest your head on my shoulder if you’d like.”

Reid nodded and leaned in, letting his head rest on Morgan’s shoulder. They settled into a
comfortable silence, their conversation drifting from one topic to the next.
“I was surprised by how many support groups there are,” Reid said, recalling yesterday’s case
where they narrowed down the unsub from the support groups. “There were 91 meetings last
night in Pittsburgh just for addiction support groups,” Reid said, still nestled against Morgan.

“There should be more in DC. Are you thinking of going?” Morgan asked.

“No, I have my personal substitution therapy,” Reid replied.

“Me?” Morgan asked, his voice soft.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m always here for you, but... you might find a group helpful,” Morgan suggested.

Reid considered the idea briefly before the conversation shifted.

“Emily mentioned you own some properties,” Reid said.

“Yeah,” Morgan replied.

“I didn’t know that,” Reid said, intrigued.

“I have a vacation home in Miami. I could take you there,” Morgan offered.

Reid smirked. “Where you party and sleep with girls? No thanks.”

Morgan’s face reddened slightly. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said, his voice tinged with a
hint of discomfort.

“What are you thinking of doing with me?” Reid teased.

Morgan’s cheeks flushed even more. Reid’s sassy comments sometimes left him speechless.

The topic shifted again.

“About the trilogy you were talking about, why do you listen to audiobooks? It’s much faster
for you to read them yourself,” Morgan asked, curious.

“I listen to them to fall asleep. It reminds me of when my mom used to read to me. It helps
me turn off my brain,” Reid explained.

Morgan’s gaze softened, touched by Reid’s vulnerability. Without thinking, his hand reached
out to gently stroke Reid’s hair.

Then he remembered something.

“What happened to your hair? It used to be straight when I first met you.”

“It’s naturally curly. I straightened it for the first few years,” Reid said.

“Why?” Morgan asked.

“I thought it would look more professional,” Reid replied.

Morgan laughed aloud, unable to contain himself. Reid frowned.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh,” Morgan said, still chuckling.

He recalled the first time he met Dr. Spencer Reid. Reid looked like someone who had just
graduated from high school, clutching the strap of his messenger bag as if it were a lifeline.
He was extremely fidgety and visibly nervous. Morgan spoke to him gently to ease his nerves
and extended his hand for a handshake. Reid then abruptly began rambling about handshakes,
which left Morgan perplexed.

Smiling at the memory, Morgan kept touching Reid’s hair gently.

Reid, feeling comfortable and a bit bold, wrapped his arm around Morgan’s. The warmth and
strength of Morgan’s arm were incredibly reassuring.

Morgan felt a heightened sensation from Reid’s arm resting on his, a blend of warmth and
electric intensity. He sighed softly, overwhelmed by the closeness.

Reid’s soft hair brushed against Morgan’s cheek, carrying the faint minty scent of shampoo
that was intoxicating.

Morgan had stifled the urge to kiss Reid countless times, but he was determined never to
cross that line. Every time he felt the pull of desire, he reminded himself constantly to protect
Reid and this special friendship and keep his own desires in check.

Inside the jet, it was quiet with the headphones off, except for the noise of the jet engines
humming steadily in the background.

Morgan gazed lovingly at Reid, who had drifted into a peaceful sleep, breathing softly. He
gently placed a kiss on Reid’s head, stifling once again the longing to press his lips to Reid’s.
 Child Prodigy
Chapter Summary

“Let’s punish him,” one of the boys suggested eagerly.

Chapter Notes

Reader discretion is advised. This chapter includes depiction of bullying.

Spencer, a child prodigy, spent two years in the gifted program at Las Vegas High School
when he was just 11 and 12 years old. The public high school environment in Las Vegas was
harsh, and Spencer felt the weight of fear every day. The older boys—several years his senior
—targeted him with relentless bullying. They would yank his bag from behind, trip him, or
kick him, deriving cruel amusement from his social awkwardness and his status as the young
genius among them.

Spencer struggled with communication and forming friendships. He felt out of place in one-
on-one conversations and struggled to navigate group settings, often missing cues on timing
and appropriate responses. His appearance, being years younger than his peers, made him
appear extremely small and skinny. Coupled with his long hair and his thick glasses, which
constantly slid down his nose, he became an easy target for bullying.

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a moment?”

It was the first time Harper Hillman, a member of the popular girls’ clique, had ever spoken
to Spencer. Harper, part of the popular girls' clique, typically had no interaction with Spencer,
who belonged to the geeky group. In high school, it was almost a rule that popular girls
mingled exclusively with the “cool” boys’ groups, and there were rarely any exceptions.

Despite the social divide, there were times when students from outside the geek group would
approach Spencer. His reputation as the most intelligent student in the school meant that he
was frequently sought out for his expertise. Whether it was for math answers, reviewing
reports, or assistance with science projects, Spencer found himself approached by students he
didn't know.

“Wh-what is it?”
Spencer shifted uncomfortably, feeling nervous about talking to girls.

“Alexa wants to meet you.”

“Alexa? Uh… Alexa Lisben?”

“Yes.”

“W-why?”

“She wants to talk to you. She’ll be waiting behind the field house after school.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure you come.”

Alexa Lisben was a name everyone in high school knew. As the vice-captain of the
cheerleading squad, she was beautiful, cheerful, and popular. Though Spencer had never
spoken to her, he had always thought of her as kind, in contrast to the other girls who seemed
more intimidating. Spencer couldn’t stop wondering why Alexa wanted to see him. Was it
possible that she preferred someone like him, rather than the typical sporty or popular types?
The thought lingered in his mind throughout the day, leaving him to wonder if she might
actually be interested in him.

After school, Spencer nervously made his way to the back of the field house. The football
players, whom he generally avoided, were loitering around. He especially disliked Jake
Garrison, the quarterback, who was the biggest bully in school.

Spencer scanned the area, his poor eyesight making it difficult to see clearly. He wondered if
Alexa had changed her mind about meeting him, given the crowd.

Then he spotted her. Alexa, along with Harper and a few other girls, was standing with the
football team.

By the time Spencer’s uneasy feeling set in, it was already too late.

“Wow! He actually came!” one of the boys shouted.

“No way, seriously?” Harper exclaimed, and the surrounding girls erupted in laughter.

“Alexa! He’s here! Your boyfriend!”

“Stop it, that’s gross,” Alexa replied, her voice tinged with genuine disgust.

Jake Garrison grabbed Spencer’s wrist and pulled him toward Alexa.

“So, what did you imagine when you heard Alexa wanted to see you?” Harper taunted,
clearly enjoying the moment.

“Were you thinking of dating her or maybe even kissing her?”

“Or getting laid!” someone else jeered, and the boys clapped and laughed.

“If you like Alexa, you should confess your feelings. This is your chance,” they urged,
shoving Spencer toward her and making him stand directly in front of her.

“Why did you come? This is really annoying,” Alexa said, her face twisted in disgust as she
glared at Spencer.

“I’m leaving. This isn’t funny at all,” she added, turning to walk away.

“Hey, Alexa, wait! You were laughing earlier, weren’t you?” Harper called out, a hint of
panic in her voice as she tried to stop her.

“Why should I be the one feeling gross? This was your idea! Stop involving me and talking
about kissing and stuff—it’s disgusting.”

Alexa turned her anger towards Spencer. “If this is something he imagined, then punish him.”

“Let’s punish him,” one of the boys suggested eagerly.

“Alexa’s right. You came here expecting something, didn’t you? Imagining that a geek like
you could actually get involved with Alexa is a crime.”

The boys burst into laughter.

As Spencer tried to run away, Jake and another boy swiftly intercepted him. One boy stood in
front of him, while Jake grabbed his arm.

“Stop it! Stop! I want to go home!” Spencer pleaded, his voice trembling.

“Oh, look, he’s actually speaking up for once,” Jake said with a mocking smirk.

Jake then grabbed both of Spencer’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and pinning his
arms, effectively restricting his movement.

“Strip him! Strip him!” Jake commanded, his voice loud and cruel.

At his order, the other two boys yanked down Spencer’s pants. The boys erupted into
laughter, while the girls squealed and joined in, their laughter echoing around them.

“Stop it! Stop it! Please don’t! Please!” Spencer cried out, his voice filled with desperation.

“Wait! He’s wearing Carter’s underwear!” someone shouted.

The entire group burst into uproarious laughter at once.

Ken, keep an eye out for any adults coming.”

“Got it.”

“Someone hold his legs down!”

Spencer was thrown to the ground, his glasses falling off in the chaos. Jake climbed on top of
him, ripping off his plaid shirt and then his undershirt. Spencer was left in just his underwear,
exposed and vulnerable. The crowd of onlookers stared down at him with cruel satisfaction,
smirking at his humiliation.

“Do we have any rope or something? Let’s tie him to the goalpost,” Jake said, his voice filled
with menace.

One of the boys quickly ran off to get some rope, while the others secured Spencer’s hands
behind his back, tying them tightly to the goalpost.

“Spencer, this is your fault. You had disgusting fantasies,” Jake taunted.

“I didn’t. I didn’t,” Spencer pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

“You came here expecting something, admit it,” one of the boys pressed.

Without warning, someone swung and punched Spencer hard in the head.

“Let's strip him naked.”

The boys' eyes glinted with cruel excitement.

“No!! Please...please stop. No!!”

Spencer kicked and struggled with all his might, but his efforts only seemed to heighten the
boys' excitement.

They took off Spencer’s underpants.

“Ha! He’s so pre-adolescent, bet he can't even masturbate!” Jake said, and the boys laughed
hysterically while the girls screamed, “Ewww!”

“Give them back!” Spencer screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation.

“What, these?” Jake held up Spencer’s underpants as if they were something disgusting. He
then tossed them onto Spencer’s head.

“Do you know how to masturbate, Spencer?”

Jake taunted, putting his face so close to his, Spencer could feel his breath.
“Do you want me to teach you?”

The onlookers watched Spencer’s tears with smug satisfaction. Jake asked if anyone had a
camera.

When they realized no one had one, their cruel excitement began to wane after about 20
minutes.

“Ah, that was pretty entertaining,” they started to comment among themselves.
Jake approached Spencer and threatened, “Don’t think about going to the police. We’ll make
it worse if you do.” He sneered, adding, “It’s your own embarrassment now, so you probably
won’t say anything.”

With that, Jake urged the others to leave and they walked away, leaving Spencer alone.

Spencer was left there, crying pitifully for hours.

Unable to reach the knots binding him, he felt a deep sense of hopelessness. Would his
mother notice that he hadn’t come home?

***

Spencer’s mother suffered from severe schizophrenia. Since his father left two years ago, her
condition had deteriorated, and she spent most of her time confined to bed. She was
convinced that the government was stalking, framing, and spying on her. Her delusions often
led to violent outbursts, making Spencer constantly anxious and on edge.

Despite her struggles, though, she always found a way to show Spencer affection and
support. Her love was unwavering, and she did everything she could to care for him, even on
the toughest days. She made sure to read him a book every night before bed, turning their
bedtime routine into a special ritual that he looked forward to.

***

This week, his mother had been sleeping most of the time due to the side effects of her
medication.

She was likely still asleep now. Spencer wanted to get home before she woke up. And
pretend nothing ever happened. He couldn’t help but worry—would someone discover him
like this in the morning?

The area had grown completely dark. It was probably around 10 p.m. Spencer, exhausted,
began to doze off.

***

“Hey, are you okay?” a voice called out. Spencer opened his eyes to see a tall figure running
toward him with a small dog in the dark. It was Aidan Han, the basketball team captain.

“What happened?” Aidan’s eyes widened in shock as he noticed that the boy was completely
naked. He quickly removed his shirt and draped it over Spencer.

“This is awful. Who did this to you? Was it the Football squad? Did they do this to you?”
Aidan asked, almost trembling with shock and anger.

Spencer struggled to respond.

“I’ll untie you right away. You’re okay now. You’re Spencer Reid, right?” Aidan said, swiftly
loosening the ropes and picking up Spencer’s scattered clothes.
“Put on your clothes. No one’s watching,” Aidan instructed.

Spencer, trembling, took the clothes and slowly dressed, his body still shaking from the
ordeal.

“Spencer, did you get hurt? Did they hit you anywhere?” Aidan asked with concern.

“Just my head,” Spencer replied, his voice hoarse from screaming.

“Did they touch you?”

“No.”

“Spencer, we need to go to the police about this.”

At that, Spencer began to cry uncontrollably.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Don’t go to the police. Please. Please.”

“It’s hard to talk about what happened, but this is a crime,” Aidan said firmly.

“It’s not that. My mother has schizophrenia. If there’s trouble at school, child services might
separate us, and I could end up in a facility or a foster home.”

Spencer continued to sob, his body trembling. Aidan watched him helplessly for a while.

“Alright, I won’t go to the police.”

Aidan put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder gently.

“If anything happens at school, come to me. Everyone on the basketball team is a good
person.”

Spencer nodded, still crying.

“How old are you, Spencer?”

“12.”

“12?! Oh, God….This is bullying of the worst kind.”

Aidan sighed and stood up.

“Can you stand? My house is close. I’ll drive you home from there.”

Aidan offered his hand, helping Spencer to his feet.

“Do you want me to carry you on my back?”

“I’m... I’m okay.”

When they arrived at Spencer’s house, he thanked Aidan.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Do you want me to talk to your mother?” Aidan asked.

“It’s alright. She should be asleep because of her medication.”

“Can you get inside the house? Do you have the key?”

Spencer nodded.

“I’ll stay around here for about five minutes just in case.” Aidan said.

Spencer nodded again.

As Spencer entered the house, he found his mother awake. She looked at him with a frantic
expression and said, “It must be somewhere. Help me look for it.”

“Mom, what are you looking for?”

“The hidden camera! I told you about it before!” She continued to frantically search the
shelves, causing books to tumble to the floor with a thud.

Spencer rubbed his wrists, which were sore and aching from being tied up. It was past
midnight.

“Mom, did you take your medication?” Spencer asked as he decided to prepare her
medication.

He glanced out of the kitchen window and saw Aidan still waiting. Spencer tapped the glass
to get his attention. When Aidan looked up, Spencer waved to signal that it was okay. Aidan
responded with a wave and then began to walk away to his car.
 Elephant’s Memory
Chapter Summary

Morgan pulled Reid aside.

“Reid, you’re getting too emotionally involved. Cool your head.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Reid said, his voice hard.

For the first time, Morgan saw a hint of hostility in Reid’s eyes.

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 3, Episode 16. Reid is 26, Morgan is 34
years old.

The BAU was called to West Bune, a small town in Texas, to investigate a series of
increasingly violent spree killings linked to a teenage boy named Owen Savage.

Reid and Morgan were examining Owen's bedroom.

Reid's gaze settled on a large poster, and Morgan joined him. “That’s James Dean’s Porsche.
No pictures of James Dean himself, though. That’s a bad sign.”

“Especially when your mother died in a car accident,” Reid added.

“Have you checked his computer?” Morgan asked.

“It's password-encrypted,” Reid replied.

Morgan opened the closet and noted, “All his clothes are black.”

“Just like his friend Johnny Cash,” Reid muttered, scanning more posters.

“So Owen identifies as being a misunderstood loner. You know, I wish all our unsubs would
just tack their profiles on their walls like this for us,” Morgan said with a smirk.

“It’s not always that simple. You grew up in Chicago, a high school jock. Did you have
posters of Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan all over your walls, with trophies everywhere?”
Reid teased.
“Yeah. But you forgot Walter Payton.
Not to mention the sexy ladies of the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Issues,” Morgan said with
a grin.

Reid chuckled and shook his head.

Reid’s eyes fell on Owen’s mirror, painted black. “I'm sure you didn’t paint your mirrors
black.”

“Guess Owen didn’t like what he saw,” Morgan said, frowning.

***

“Owen applied himself in some classes and did very well, but it didn’t last.” The school
principal opened the door, and Hotch, Morgan, and Reid walked inside.

Reid began scanning the reports and documents related to Owen. As he processed the
information, he spoke up.

“The problem wasn’t a lack of effort or a bad attitude. The A’s in math and science indicate
he’s a gifted student. The D’s in English and History suggest he struggles with reading, and
the F in Geometry points to a severe problem with spatial relations. That’s further evidenced
by his illegible handwriting.”

Hotch took the file from Reid and nodded in agreement. “All of this points to a brilliant
student with significant learning disabilities.”

“The standardized tests don’t reflect that kind of intelligence,” the principal said.

Reid continued, “A spatial relations handicap affects hand-eye coordination. He couldn’t fill
in an answer bubble any easier than he could hit a baseball.”

“That’s why he stayed away from sports,” Morgan added.

“Sports were a sore spot with his father. He joined the wrestling team his freshman year just
to please his dad, but it didn’t work out,” the principal explained.

As they left the principal’s office, Reid was visibly upset.

“He was probably the smartest kid in his class, but he couldn’t prove it. Being the smartest
kid in class is like being the only kid in class,” Reid said, his voice filled with frustration.

“But schools like this can’t meet the specialized needs of every student,” Hotch pointed out.

“He gives it everything he’s got, over and over, and he continues to fail. And all the while,
they tell him it’s his fault. I mean, it makes sense,” Reid said bitterly with a hint of sarcasm.

“No, it doesn’t. An undiagnosed learning disability doesn’t account for this level of violence
without severe emotional abuse. You know that,” Hotch said calmly but firmly.
While Hotch was speaking to JJ and Emily, Morgan pulled Reid aside.

“Reid, you’re getting too emotionally involved. Cool your head.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Morgan. But I do. I know exactly what it feels like to be...to
be...,”

“This kid is not you,” Morgan said slowly in a stern tone.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Reid said again, his voice hard.

For the first time, Morgan saw a hint of hostility in Reid’s eyes.

***

Morgan watched as Reid’s face went pale while they observed the video.

The footage showed Owen in the school gym's shower room, wearing only a towel.

“Guys, I’m not sure I can do this,” Owen said nervously.

“It’s just us,” a voice responded with a hint of amusement. “It's not like you don't masturbate
at home, right?”

“I can’t do it with you watching me, man,” Owen said, his voice trembling.

Reid’s face was ashen, his rage palpable. His fists were clenched, and his brows were drawn
into a deep frown.

“If you want to be on the team, you’ve got to do it. We all did,” the voice persisted, pressing
Owen further.

“Ok, I'll try.”

“Did Owen tell you about this?” Hotch asked the principal.

“He didn’t have to. It was posted on the school’s social networking site. We took it down as
soon as we saw it,” the principal replied, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“Once it’s on the internet, it’s out there forever. Owen knew that,” Reid murmured.

“How were these boys punished?” Hotch asked.

“Owen identified them, but all we have is their voices on the video,” the principal said.
Morgan and Hotch exchanged frustrated looks.

“I mean, even if they'd admitted involvement, All they'd have to do is say Owen didn't have
to do it,” the principal shrugged dismissively.
“What did you tell him?” Morgan demanded, glaring at the principal.

“I told him dealing with bullies is part of growing up,” the principal said.

“Ha! Sounds familiar,” Reid scoffed, almost sounding like he was amused.

The principal continued defensively, “Boys have a way of sorting these things out for
themselves.”

“Yeah, they sure do.” Reid smiled and stepped closer to the principal. “Right now, Owen's
out there sorting it out with an assault rifle.”

“Reid.”

Reid slammed the file onto the floor, glared at the principal, and stormed out of the room.

“I apologize,” Hotch said, picking up the file and handing it back to the principal. “It’s just
that we’ve heard those same phrases before when interviewing school shooters.”

Hotch then stared intently at the principal.

***

Back at the police station, Reid’s agitation was palpable.

“His life was one torment after another. His teachers gave up on him, his classmates bullied
him, and his father blamed him while handing him access to guns!”

“Reid, calm down,” Hotch said, but Reid couldn't contain himself.

“They could have prevented this! They should have done something. Those local officers,
they worked with his father. They knew Owen.”

“So what? Adolescents often come off as sociopathic. That’s why you can’t diagnose them
until they’re 18,” Hotch’s voice began to rise.

“They could have seen the signs!” Reid’s voice cracked with desperation.

“No one sees the signs, Reid. You know that! Blaming them is not only unfair, it’s
dangerous,” Hotch paused and stared at the young agent’s face. “I want you to go back to the
Savage house and search Owen’s room.”

“You already told Morgan to do that.”

“Yes, and you’re going to assist him.”

“Oh, so you’re punishing me!?” Reid lashed out.

“No, I’m utilizing you. You understand this kid better than anyone. Find something that can
help us.”
Reid scowled and exited the office. Morgan quickly followed, placing a hand on Reid’s
shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, but Reid shrugged off Morgan’s touch, walking
away.

***

At the Savage house, Reid worked on Owen’s computer.

“You doing okay?” Morgan asked as he entered the room. Reid didn’t look up.

“Garcia restored those emails,” Morgan informed.

“Yeah, I'm sorting through them right now.”

Morgan sighed and sat down on the bed.

“Reid.”

“.....”

“Reid.”

Reid finally paused, turned his head, and looked at Morgan.

“You know, you're not the only one who identifies with him.” Morgan said softly.

Reid slowly turned the chair to face Morgan.

“You said I was a high school jock. I was. But not at first.“ Morgan began.

“My freshman year, I was 5'3",” Morgan demonstrated how small he was at the time and
chuckled. “I weighed barely a hundred and twenty pounds. So trust me when I tell you I got
my ass kicked. Every day. So the following summer, I hit the weights. And I got lucky. I
grew 6 inches. But it was never about vanity, Reid. It was about survival.”

Reid frowned, looking away briefly before clearing his throat.

“I was in the library, and, uh..Harper Hillman comes up to me, And she tells me that Alexa
Lisben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Lisben's, like...easily the prettiest girl
in school.” Reid said, a faint smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.

“So what happened? Alexa wasn’t there?” Morgan asked, his voice tense.

“She was there,” Reid said quietly, then added, “So was the entire football team.”

“They...uh...stripped me naked and tied me to a goalpost. So many kids were there, you
know, just watching.”

Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. “Nobody tried to stop them?”
“Mm-Mmm. I begged...I begged them to, but they just....they just watched. And finally, they
got bored, and they left.”

Morgan looked down and sighed heavily.

“It was, like, midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't...” Reid’s voice faltered.
“Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late.”

“You never told her what happened?”

“I never told anybody. I thought...It was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk
about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Reid held back tears.

Morgan’s heart ached for Reid.

“Ah, Reid, you don't need an eidetic memory for that,” he murmured.

Morgan continued, his voice full of empathy, “You know, we forget half of what they teach
us in school, but when it comes to the torment and the people who inflicted it...We've all got
an elephant's memory.”

“Yeah. Owen just wants to forget. And I know what that’s like.”

Morgan sighed deeply and stood up. “Reid.” He extended a hand, inviting Reid to stand. Reid
knew this gesture meant a hug.

“Now? We’re at work,” Reid protested.

“I don’t care. Come here, Reid,” Morgan said firmly.

Reid hesitated for a moment, then stood up and allowed Morgan to embrace him. Morgan
rubbed Reid’s back gently, offering comfort.

Morgan recalled the hostility in Reid’s eyes from earlier that day and said, “Just so you know,
I might have been a high school jock, but I was always strongly against bullying.”

“I know. You were an Aidan type,” Reid said.

“Aidan? Who’s that?” Morgan looked at Reid.

“He was the basketball captain. He rescued me from bullying and made sure it never
happened again. He changed my whole school experience,” Reid explained.

“Reid, that's good. That’s really good. I’m so glad you had Aidan,” Morgan said sincerely.

Morgan silently thanked Aidan in his heart.

***
The time had come to confront the unsub, who was armed with an assault rifle. The team
assembled at Owen’s mother’s grave, clad in firearms and ballistic vests.

Hotch noticed Reid removing his vest. “Reid, what are you doing?”

“They’re going to kill him. I don’t want to be part of this,” Reid said, his voice tinged with
resignation.

“Alright. Meet us back at the station,” Hotch replied softly.

At the police station, Reid suddenly realized Owen was heading there instead of the
graveyard. He quickly called Hotch and dashed outside, with Emily trailing behind.

“What makes you think he’ll come here?” Emily called out as she ran.

“It’s what I would do,” Reid replied, urgency in his voice.

Sure enough, Owen appeared, assault rifle in hand. Reid handed his own gun to Emily.

“Prentiss, cover me.”

“Whoa, Reid! What are you—Reid, wait!”

Ignoring her, Reid moved toward Owen, his hands visibly empty.

“Owen, I don’t have a weapon. My name is Spencer. I’m with the FBI, and I’m here to help
you,” Reid said.

“Yeah? I need you to stay back!” Owen shouted, his grip tightening on the rifle.

“Owen, trust me, I understand what you’re going through.”

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

“I know how it feels when you try to escape and forget, and it only seems to get worse. It
feels like everyone’s just watching you suffer, and no one is helping.”

The rest of the team arrived, taking their positions and aiming at Owen from behind Reid.

“Reid’s blocking our shot,” Hotch noted, concern evident in his voice.

Morgan had a clear shot and was ready to take it the moment Owen moved. He knew Reid
might hold a grudge, but that was a risk he had to take.

Reid continued to speak to Owen, his voice filled with empathy. “I understand you want to
escape and forget. Believe me, I know how that feels.”

Owen’s grip on the rifle began to loosen.

“Let’s put the gun down,” Reid urged softly.

Slowly, Owen complied, lowering the rifle to the ground.

***

In the private jet, Hotch sat across from Reid.

“You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others. I should fire you.”

Reid glanced down and swallowed.

“You’re the smartest kid in the room, but you’re not the only one in that room.”

Reid looked up at his boss. His gaze was stern but warm.

“You pull something like this again, you will be. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”

 Traits
Chapter Summary

Reid tilted his head, studying him. “Do you want to kiss me, too?”

“Reid...”

Morgan shifted his chair slightly away from Reid.

“Are you teasing me?” Morgan’s face was serious, even a bit fearful.

Chapter Notes

This story is set right after the events of Season 3, Episode 16.

“I thought you would come,” Reid said, a small smile on his face.

Morgan returned the smile, though his eyes were serious. “I don’t need to stay long. I just...
needed to give you a hug.”

“You already...” Reid started to respond, but his words were swallowed by the embrace as
Morgan pulled him close.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you,” Morgan murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

As he held Reid, Morgan imagined him as a twelve-year-old, feeling how much smaller and
more fragile he was back then. His heart ached at the image of the vulnerable child.

After a few minutes, Morgan gently loosened his hold, then added, “And this one is for you
being safe.” He wrapped Reid in another tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Morgan said, his voice soft and sincere.

When Morgan finally released him, he touched Reid’s face with a tenderness that made
Reid’s cheeks flush. Their faces were only inches apart.

“Y... you’re too close,” Reid stammered, his gaze darting away.

Morgan cupped Reid’s face in his hands. He placed a gentle kiss on Reid’s forehead, then on
the spot beside his left eye. Reid’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt the soft touch of Morgan’s
lips on his cheek.

When Morgan stopped, Reid opened his eyes cautiously. “Uh...are you...done?”

Morgan chuckled softly. The young man’s shyness was endearing. “Yeah. I’m done.”

He gave Reid’s head a light pat.

***

They had tea together at Reid's dining table. The conversation kept circling back to Owen
Savage’s case in Texas.

“I’m still puzzled about why the school screening system failed to diagnose his learning
disabilities,” Morgan said.

”It's not unusual. I was never officially diagnosed with autism, but I'm pretty sure I fall
somewhere on the spectrum.“

“I’ve wondered about that, actually.”

“You have?”

“You are not offended, are you?”

“Not at all. In fact, I find it quite interesting to discuss the traits that might indicate I’m on the
spectrum.”

“Ok. let me hear it.”

Reid began, “For instance, I have difficulty understanding social cues and engaging in small
talk. I have strong verbal skills but tend to speak in a monotone voice.”

Morgan smiled, impressed by Reid’s self-awareness. “Go on.”

“Engaging in repetitive rituals or routines,” Reid continued.

“Like never wearing matching socks?” Morgan teased.

“Exactly,” Reid said with a chuckle, and continued, “Having deep, often narrow interests or
hobbies, sometimes to the exclusion of other activities.“

Morgan could list a few right away, “Sci-fi movies, Halloween, magic tricks…”

“You know me well,” Reid said, grinning.

Reid then said, “I also struggle with change, which can cause significant stress or anxiety.”

Morgan recalled the time Gideon had left.

“Strong abilities in specific areas, such as mathematics and memory, while facing challenges
in other areas, like abstract thinking, and uh...” Reid continued,

“Stimming, as a form of self-soothe, such as rocking, spinning, finger-fidgeting.”

Morgan nodded. Reid often rubbs his hands and he spins his chair a lot.

“Challenges with coordination and motor skills, too—everything from using chopsticks to
running, jumping, or catching a ball,” Reid continued.

Morgan couldn’t stop smiling as he listened.

“And clumsiness—Higher likelihood of bumping into objects or dropping things.”

Morgan laughed, unable to contain himself. “Sorry, I’m not mocking you. Everything about
you is just so endearing.”

Reid shrugged. “It’s worth noting that not everyone with autism has coordination issues.
Some people excel in physical activities.”

Morgan nodded. “Got it.”

Reid then added, “And less sexual urges or activities.”

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Less, not none,” Reid clarified. “And again, these traits are specific to me, autism manifests
differently in everyone.”

“Reid, can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Morgan realized he had never seen Reid with a girlfriend in the four years he’d known him.

“I have. I dated a girl back in university.”

“A girl? Just one?”

”Mm-hmm.”

“Did you um..go all the way with her?”

“Of course.”

He said it so confidently it made Morgan laugh.

“Lucky girl,” Morgan said with a smile, resting his chin on his hand.
How about you?” Reid asked.

“Me? Have I ever been in a relationship?”

“No,” Reid said, laughing. “Tell me about your first girlfriend.”

“I honestly don’t remember.”

Reid’s eyes widened in surprise.

“When I first dated a girl, I was 15. The abuse was still going on. I dated and slept with many
girls, almost as if I was trying to prove something. I don’t even remember the name of the
girl I first slept with.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay,” Morgan said with a soft smile. “I wish I had those experiences, you know? The
first-time jitters, the excitement, that tingling feeling...”

As Morgan spoke, a strange realization dawned on him—he had experienced that too, albeit
in a different context. The memory of holding Reid in bed suddenly made his face flush.

It was the night Reid had come to his house after discovering that Gideon had left. They were
lying on his bed, and Morgan had held Reid from behind, feeling a wave of heat rush to his
face and neck, causing him to sweat. His heart pounded with nervousness.

“Are you okay?” Reid asked.

“What?”

“You stopped.”

“Oh... I was just thinking about something.”

To hide his embarrassment, Morgan teased, “So, that Lyla girl wasn’t your first kiss.”

“Oh, I completely forgot about that,” Reid laughed.

“Actually, my first kiss was with a boy,” Reid continued.

“Really?”

“Yeah, the Aidan I told you about.”

“I thought you were only 12.” Morgan’s tone shifted to one of sudden alertness.

“Relax. Aidan waited until I was 16 to kiss me.”

“So were you dating him?‘

“No. It was... it was just a kiss.”

Reid recalled his first kiss with Aidan. One hell of a kiss...

Morgan saw a blush on Reid’s cheeks and felt a strange pang in his heart. He wanted to be
the one who rescued him if he was getting his first kiss.

Reid noticed Morgan’s sulky expression.

“Are you jealous?”

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

Reid tilted his head, studying him. “Do you want to kiss me, too?”

Morgan looked at Reid, trying to decipher his expression. Was that a smirk? Was he serious?
He couldn’t tell.

“Reid...”

Morgan shifted his chair slightly away from Reid.

“Are you teasing me?” Morgan’s face was serious, even a bit fearful.

Reid’s eyebrows raised. “Maybe a little...”

Morgan’s frustration flared. “If I said yes, would you let me kiss you?”

Reid hesitated. “...No.”

Morgan scowled. “Is this some kind of game?”

“Morgan, what are you—”

“Is this whole thing a game to you?”

Reid was taken aback by Morgan’s sudden frustration.

Morgan stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“What, because I asked if you wanted to kiss me?”

“Exactly!”

“You tease me all the time, too!” Reid’s voice rose.

“You... you kissed me all over my face, and, and, I’m the one who's teasing you?”

“When I kissed you on the cheek, it wasn’t teasing.”

Reid looked down, clearly troubled. “I’m so confused.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Morgan noticed Reid’s fingers rubbing his own hands.

Stimming...as a form of self-soothing...

A surge of affection overwhelmed Morgan. He pulled Reid into a hug.

“Difficulty with pragmatics...” Reid murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Another trait I forgot to mention. I struggle to predict how my words affect others.”

Reid continued, “This confusion between us... it’s probably my fault. I’m sorry.”

Morgan’s confusion only deepened.

“Reid, how do you feel about me?”

“What do you mean?”

Morgan sighed, reminding himself that Reid had difficulty with communication, especially
one that's related to emotions, feelings, and abstract concepts.

Morgan pulled Reid’s body slightly away and gazed at his face. Gently, he brushed the hair
from Reid’s face and tucked it behind his ear.

Then, just like he did earlier, Morgan cupped Reid’s face and kissed his forehead, then the
spot beside his left eye, and finally his cheek.

“This isn’t teasing,” Morgan said seriously. “Okay?”

Reid nodded, looking at him. “Then do it again.”

Morgan cautiously repeated the kisses again.

 Coaching
Chapter Summary

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re amazing,” Aidan said, giving Spencer a pat on the back.

Chapter Notes

It's 1993. Back to when Reid was 12 years old.

It was such a typical morning that Spencer briefly wondered if yesterday's events on the
school grounds had been just a bad dream. However, the persistent ache in his wrists and
arms quickly reminded him that it had been real.

Spencer was surprised to find Aidan Han at his doorstep. Aidan had his car parked outside
and was knocking briskly.

“Spencer, I found your glasses,” Aidan said, holding them up.

Spencer squinted at the glasses, recognizing them instantly. “Where did you find them?”

“Near that goalpost. I went back last night and managed to retrieve them.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Aidan asked, concern evident in his tone.

“I’m okay,” Spencer answered, though his expression was guarded.

“Are you going to school?”

“Yes.”

“Then hop in. Let’s go together.”

A wave of relief washed over Spencer. He dreaded taking the bus, knowing it would be filled
with members of the football team and some of the girls from yesterday’s incident. The idea
of riding to school with Aidan was a comforting alternative.

“Thank you,” Spencer said as he climbed into the car.

As they drove, Aidan spoke up, “I know some members of the football team take the bus.
From now until graduation, I’ll pick you up every day.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You usually head to the library after school, right?”

Spencer looked up, surprised. “How did you know?”

Aidan gave a smile. “Whenever I needed to go to the library, you were always there, lost in a
book. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

Aidan continued, “Anyway, when you’re done at the library, come by the gym. If I finish
practice first, I’ll come find you there.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said quietly, his voice wavering slightly.

He looked down, struggling to hold back his tears, touched by Aidan’s kindness.

***

Spencer soon established a new routine: going to the gym at 6 p.m. and heading home with
Aidan. Initially, he felt uncomfortable drawing attention, both from the gym-goers and from
the stares they attracted while walking together.

One day, a group of boys started jeering, “Are you two dating?” Spencer froze, but Aidan
quickly pulled him along.

“Ignore them,” Aidan said firmly.

It turned out all the basketball team members were nice to him. Just like Aidan said.
Soon, the members grew accustomed to Spencer’s presence. They greeted him with waves
and pats on the back, treating him like a younger brother. They offered him snacks, juice
packs, and comic books.

Spencer began arriving at the gym earlier and earlier, eventually heading straight there after
school without stopping by the library. He immersed himself in basketball, quickly learning
the rules, terms, and strategies. His mind buzzed with analysis and calculations.

Spencer only told Aidan some of his insights. Aidan was very impressed by his analytical
skills and insisted him to join the team as a sub-coach, but Spencer was too shy to do so.

During one particularly tough game where the team was trailing badly, Spencer could no
longer keep his observations to himself. At halftime, he spoke up.

“Aidan, I’ve been analyzing the team’s performance data. Your shooting percentage from the
three-point line is at 32%, while our opponents are hitting 38% of theirs. You need to
improve your perimeter defense.”

“Hold on,” Aidan said, calling the team together. “Everyone, listen to Spencer.”
Spencer continued, “Also, your fast break conversion rate is only 45%. Focus on better
decision-making and quicker transitions. You’re losing too many points in those
opportunities.”

The team listened intently as Spencer elaborated. “Finally, your rebounding stats show you’re
getting outrebounded on the offensive glass. Improve your positioning and effort to secure
those boards and cut down on second-chance points.”

“Got it.” They all nodded in agreement and discussed Spencer’s advice among themselves
before heading back onto the court.

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re amazing,” Aidan said, giving Spencer a pat on the back.

The team’s performance visibly improved after implementing Spencer’s suggestions. They
rallied, scoring consistently, and eventually secured a comeback victory.

After the game, the team surrounded Spencer, hugging him, patting his head, high-fiving, and
even hoisting him onto their shoulders in celebration.

The news that Spencer Reid was “coaching” the basketball team quickly spread, surprising
everyone at school.
 Reid’s First Kiss
Chapter Summary

Aidan looked at Spencer and asked, “Do you still want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I will.”

“Okay.”

Chapter Notes

It's 1997. Reid is 16 years old.

I trully appreciate everyone who is reading my story. Please leave a comment under any
chapter!

Mrs. Han opened the door, her face brightening into a delighted smile when she saw Spencer.

“Spencer, it’s so good to see you!”

“Hello.”

“Has it really been a year already? You’ve grown taller again. Aidan was worried you might
surpass him eventually.”

Mrs. Han laughed warmly.

“Where’s Aidan?”

“He went to buy a cake for dessert. He’ll be back soon.”

Spencer took a seat in a chair next to Mrs. Han, who had always treated him like her own
son.

“How old are you now, Spencer?”

“I’m 16.”
“Aidan always brags about you. He says you’re going to earn a PhD in math at a record age.”

Spencer blushed slightly.

“I’m home! Spencer! It’s been a while,” Aidan called out as he entered after placing the cake
in the kitchen. Spencer stood up, and they hugged each other.

“How tall are you now?”

“About 175 cm. And you, Aidan?”

“188 cm. But I think I’ve stopped growing. I’m already 22.”

Aidan looked at Spencer and asked, “Did you get contact lenses?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve become such a handsome young man.”

Spencer smiled shyly. Aidan always complimented him without hesitation, a trait he might
have picked up from Mrs. Han.

“You don’t look like an elementary school student anymore,” Aidan teased.

“Of course not!” Spencer replied, punching Aidan playfully.

“Is there anything I can help with, Mom?”

“No, no, there’s still plenty of time before dinner. Why don’t you go out and have some fun?”

“Alright, let’s go, Spencer.”

The two went outside, greeted by the pleasant autumn weather of Las Vegas—a clear and
crisp day.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want to visit the usual lighthouse.”

“Sounds good.”

They got into Aidan’s car.

***

“This place never changes, does it?”

“Yeah.” Sitting on the black bench in front of the lighthouse, they looked at the lake. The
sunlight reflected off the water, sparkling and dazzling.

Usually, they couldn’t stop talking, but today both of them were unusually quiet.
“Aidan.”

“Yeah.”

“I turned 16.”

“I know.”

Aidan looked at Spencer with a hint of shyness. “I’ve been thinking about it since your
birthday last month.”

“You didn’t forget?”

“I didn’t forget.”

***

When the basketball team from Las Vegas High School won the district championship, Aidan
told Spencer that winning the championship was thanks to him, so he'd like to do something
to show his appreciation.

“Is there anything you’d like?” Aidan asked.

Spencer replied, “I don’t need anything,” but Aidan insisted, “No, you have to think of
something.”

For the next few months leading up to graduation, Aidan repeatedly asked Spencer if he had
decided on what he wanted, but the day of graduation arrived before Spencer could give an
answer.

On graduation day, Spencer gathered all his courage and said,

“I want your kiss.”

Aidan looked at Spencer in surprise. Spencer’s face turned crimson as he bit his lower lip and
looked down. Seeing this, Aidan felt his own face flush red.

“Spencer, I'm eighteen. I can't kiss a twelve-year-old boy, you know.”

“Right...” Spencer bit his lip again.

“But...when you are older, can I kiss you?”

Spencer looked up at Aidan’s words with a surprised expression.

“Older...? Like...like eighteen?” Spencer stammered.

“If it’s just a kiss... maybe when you’re sixteen?” Aidan added, a bit hesitant. “That is, if you
haven’t changed your mind by then.”

“Okay.”
Aidan blushed and asked, “Spencer, do you... like me?”

“I do....but it’s not like I want to date you or anything. I just... I just want you to be the first
person I kiss.”

***

Aidan looked at Spencer and asked, “Do you still want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I will.”

“Okay.”

Aidan gently placed his hands on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer closed his eyes and
swallowed nervously.

Aidan’s lips pressed against Spencer’s for just a moment—probably about a second—before
pulling away.

“Is that it?”

“Was it too short?”

“It was short.”

“Then let’s do it again.”

This time, the kiss was longer and more consuming, as if Aidan was savoring Spencer’s lips.
When their lips parted, both of them were panting slightly.

“Do it again,” Spencer said as he grabbed the back of Aidan's neck and kissed him himself.
Aidan responded by moving his hands from Spencer’s shoulders to his face, giving him a
passionate kiss. As they pulled away, both were gasping for air. Spencer kept asking for more
kisses, saying, "Again, again." They shared hungry, desperate kisses as if they were starving
for each other.

“Are you satisfied?” Aidan asked gently.

“Yeah,” Spencer nodded, and Aidan laughed shyly.

“I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“Neither did I.”

With the tension eased, they began chatting as freely as usual, discussing college, Spencer’s
mom, and Aidan’s basketball team. Time flew by quickly, and the sky began to turn shades of
sunset.

“Shall we head back? Dad and my sister might be home soon,” Aidan suggested.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, and they started walking toward the car.

“I picked out a cake you like for dessert.”

“Great!” Spencer replied, smiling.

Aidan gently patted Spencer on the head and put his arm around him as they walked.
 Coming Clean
Chapter Summary

Emily smiled, then asked,

“But what if that’s what you want for him, not necessarily what he wants?”

“Emily, we don’t know what he wants. We’ll never find out if he’s stuck with me. If we
started something, it would be very difficult for him to get out of it without hurting
deeply.”

Emily couldn't help but notice how often Reid and Morgan sat next to each other—on the jet,
around the round table, at the café. Their arms were always brushing against each other. Their
interactions seemed perfectly normal; they discussed victimology or worked on geographic
mapping.

But something about it bothered Emily. On one flight, out of curiosity, she decided to sit next
to Morgan and let her arm brush his. Morgan immediately shifted his arm away, almost
reflexively.

***

Emily and Morgan were very good friends. They went to the bar together at least twice a
month. Emily was adept at sensing which personal areas Morgan was comfortable sharing
and which were off-limits. The topic of Reid was one Emily never pried into. But today, she
decided to confront him.

“Okay, Derek,” Emily said, turning her face to Morgan after their shot glasses clinked. “It’s
time for you to come clean.”

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked, his brow furrowing.

“What’s going on between you and Reid?”

“Nothing.”

Emily studied Morgan. “Are you together?”

“No.”

“Do you love him?”

Morgan hesitated, his silence speaking volumes.

Emily nodded, understanding. “Did you tell him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What’s the point of telling him?”

“The point?” Emily was taken aback.

“You think Reid would turn you down? His feelings for you are as obvious as yours are for
him. I don’t understand what’s stopping you.”

“It’s not about rejection. There are actually many reasons why I haven’t told him.”

“Go on.”

Morgan sighed deeply. “First, if I tell him I love him, it will change our friendship. We have
this deep, non-sexual intimacy that I cherish. Once it becomes physical, things might get out
of control. He’s like a dear brother to me, and I don’t want to lose that.”

Emily nodded. “I get that.”

“Second, Reid is inexperienced and awkward when it comes to relationships. I feel like I’d be
taking advantage of him.”

Reid is too pure for me. Morgan thought to himself. He’s kissed only a handful of people and
had one serious relationship. On the other hand, Morgan had long lost count of his partners.
Being physical with Reid felt wrong to him.

“I’m listening,” Emily prompted.

“Third, I care more about his overall wellbeing. I genuinely want him to be happy.”

“Why can’t he be happy with you?”

“I want him to have a family—wife and kids who adore and respect him. I want him to come
home to a place where he can escape work and enjoy the company of his family.”

Emily looked into Morgan’s warm eyes.

“He deserves that, doesn’t he?” Morgan asked softly.

“Yeah... he does.”

“I want to see him as a father, raising a little genius,” Morgan said with a grin. “I have a
hunch he’d be an excellent dad.”

Emily smiled, then asked, “But what if that’s what you want for him, not necessarily what he
wants?”
“Emily, we don’t know what he wants. We’ll never find out if he’s stuck with me. He’s only
26. He should be in relationships more. If we started something, it would be very difficult for
him to get out of it without hurting deeply.”

“Wow... I didn’t realize you had thought this through so thoroughly.”

“I have, many times. I still don’t have the answer.” Morgan sighed and shook his head.

Emily recalled how Morgan had defined love: self-sacrifice.

“That’s how you love him,” she said.

“Reid said I’m his sanctuary, Emily. He said I’m where he returns for safety and comfort.
That’s what I wish to be.”

Emily felt she was beginning to grasp the depth of their bond.

“And fourth...” Morgan continued.

“Oh, there is forth?”

“I actually don’t know what Reid is thinking. Sometimes I’m sure he loves me too, but other
times it feels like he’s just teasing me.”

“Reid teases you? Not the other way around?”

“He avoids me for months, then suddenly wraps his arm around mine and asks what I want to
do with him in a private vacation home in Miami. He tells me he’s kissed a boy before and
asks if I want to kiss him too.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Seriously?”

Morgan nodded with a meaningful look. “I mean, is he really that shy? Maybe this whole
thing is just a game to him. Maybe he’s playing me.”

Emily laughed. “So his quirkiness might be part of his calculation?”

“Exactly. We all know his IQ,” Morgan chuckled.

Emily patted Morgan’s back. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know... It’s been five months since we stopped seeing each other often after work.
Reid visited me once in January, but that was it. Our relationship seemed to stabilize, but last
night when I visited him, all this confusion and turmoil came back.”

Morgan sighed, rubbing his forehead before taking another shot.

“So... just to clarify, you two never got physical?”

“Physical... like having sex?”

“Yeah.”

“No, not even a kiss. We, uh... held hands a lot.” Morgan blushed. “And I kissed him on the
cheek, but never on the lips.”

Emily stared at her friend, raising an eyebrow. She had never seen this bashful side of
Morgan before.

***

Emily thought she now had a much better understanding of the situation between Reid and
Morgan. It was a unique and special friendship, albeit very complicated.

However, the next day, seeing them sitting together, Emily was frustrated again. She squinted
at them as they let their arms brush against each other and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh for God’s sake...”

When Morgan was alone, Emily grabbed his arm and said, “You know what? Forget
everything you said about your relationship with Reid last night. Just kiss him already. It’s
torturing to watch you two.”
 Miami
Chapter Summary

Reid’s eyes widened. “Uh… undercover? You mean, as a… as a couple?” he stammered.

Morgan shot Hotch a stunned look, clearly about to protest.

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 3, Episode 17. It's May 2008. Reid is 26,
Morgan is 34 years old.

It was early May, but Miami was already basking in the seductive warmth of summer.

In the past three months, three bodies had been discovered in Miami—each male, aged 25 to
35, all travelers, and asphyxiated with no signs of sexual assault. Currently, there were four
missing white men in the area matching the profile of potential victims.

Reid stepped out of the car, his face scrunched in disapproval. “Agh! Is it always this hot?”

Morgan smirked, looking at girls walking by. “Every day holiday!”

Rossi chimed in, “That's South Beach.”

“No, that's not what I am talking about.” Reid said, with an annoyed look.

“They know.” Hotch said to Reid.

***

Detective Tina Lopez from the Miami Police Department was captivated by FBI Agent Derek
Morgan from the moment she laid eyes on him.

When they introduced themselves, Tina extended her hand.

“Morgan,” he said, adding with a flirtatious smile, “Derek.”

Tina's eyes sparkled as she responded, “Tina.”

Derek was exactly her type: dark skin, a muscular build, and a charm that was impossible to
resist.
I want him.

She wet her lips subtly, her gaze lingering on Derek.

Next to Derek stood a tall, skinny, young agent with longish hair who was rambling
incessantly about possible methods of murder.

“Maybe a chokehold. It wouldn’t leave any signs of trauma, and a powerful grip from behind
gives the unsub all the leverage. None of these victims look out of shape or easy to control. In
fact, they all look remarkably fit…”

Tina redirected her attention to Derek, her smile widening.

“Thank you for coming down so quickly. So… you like it here?” Tina asked, her tone
teasing.

“South Beach? Come on. What’s not to like?” Derek replied playfully. “I mean, if I’m not on
duty, of course.”

Tina’s gaze turned seductive as she whispered, “Anytime you’re free, I can introduce you to
the real South Beach—stuff we locals like to keep to ourselves.”

“You think you can show me a good time, huh?” Derek’s eyes twinkled with interest,
flattered by Tina’s bold proposition.

“You look like you’d enjoy mojitos, Cuban food, and Brazilian jazz.”

“That’s not bad at all,” Derek chuckled.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Tina promised with a meaningful smile.

Derek raised his eyebrows, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As they joined the team to discuss the profile of the unsub, Agent Prentiss suggested, “He
could be suffering from Cluster B?”

“Cluster B?” Tina asked, intrigued.

The skinny agent launched into a rapid explanation. “Ah, cluster B is a group of personality
disorders known for erratic, dramatic, and emotional behavior. It’s an enduring pattern that
significantly deviates from cultural expectations and manifests in… ”

Derek cut him off, offering a more succinct summary. “Means the unsub is a sick dude.”

Tina nodded at Derek.

***

“This is everything we recovered from Paul Hayes' hotel room,” Tina said, leading Rossi and
Emily into the evidence room to show the first victim’s belongings.
“It’s all been processed, so don’t worry about touching anything,” she added.

“Thank you,” Rossi replied.

“I'm gonna take the skinny kid and Derek to the dump sites. If anything, just call me, ”Tina
said.

Rossi and Emily exchanged a glance at Tina’s “skinny kid” remark.

“Wonder how she’ll describe us,” Rossi murmured to Emily.

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t want to know,” Emily replied quietly.

***

Hotch called Garcia, asking her to track down the rental car of the third victim, Charles
Luvet. Garcia quickly located it. Morgan, Reid, and Tina found the car and checked the GPS
for its last known location. Tina recognized the address as a local gay bar.

The team reconvened to review the profile of the unsub:

・The unsub is targeting gay men.

・He is in his mid to late twenties.
・He is well-built and fit.
・He is familiar with the area and may be offering assistance to those who are not.
・He approaches his victims in gay bars, studies their habits, and learns how to gain their
trust.
・He is charming, charismatic, and intelligent.
・The fact that he is targeting gay men suggests this may be a hate crime and/or the unsub
could be struggling with his own sexuality.

***

Hotch addressed the team. “Reid and Morgan, go undercover at this gay bar. Observe the
patrons and look for the unsub who matches the description.”

Reid’s eyes widened. “Uh… undercover? You mean, as a… as a couple?” he stammered.

Morgan shot Hotch a stunned look, clearly about to protest.

“Yes,” Hotch replied. “We don’t want the unsub to realize we’re looking for him. And
besides, you two have been practicing undercover operations, haven’t you?”

JJ and Emily stifled giggles, their eyes cast downward.

Reid fidgeted uncomfortably, while Morgan rubbed his neck and exhaled heavily.

Reid changed into a black T-shirt and jeans. Both agents wore wires and tucked guns into
ankle holsters.
“Are you ready?” Morgan asked Reid.

“Yeah,” Reid replied.

Morgan headed for the entrance, with Reid trailing behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

They stood by the bar table. Reid shifted restlessly, his anxiety evident. His left arm was
wrapped tightly around his torso, while his right hand fidgeted near his chin. Each small
movement showed his discomfort.

“Reid, stop being so fidgety,” Morgan said.

“This is so uncomfortable,” Reid sighed.

“Just act natural.”

“How are we supposed to act?” Reid asked.

“Um...” Morgan glanced around at other couples—some bantering, some kissing, others
holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. He lifted his eyebrows and exhaled through
his nose.

“Hold hands, gaze at each other…?” Morgan suggested.

“Everyone on the team is watching us,” Reid said, his discomfort palpable. “This is so
awkward.”

Tina joined Hotch, JJ, and Garcia to watch the live feed. “Clearly this kid isn’t experienced
with undercover work!”

“‘Dr. Reid,’ don’t call him ‘kid,’ Agent Lopez,” JJ said, her tone unusually stern. She was
visibly irritated by Tina’s disrespect toward Reid.

Tina looked at JJ, stunned, and left the room, offended by the confrontation from a younger
agent. Hotch sighed.

“It’s not just Reid. Look at Morgan,” Hotch observed. Morgan was visibly struggling to get
close to Reid, and the space between them remained awkward. Morgan rubbed his head while
Reid fidgeted with his hands.

“What are they, middle schoolers?” Hotch muttered, shaking his head.

Garcia and JJ avoided eye contact, worried they might let out laughs.

Hotch spoke into the phone. “Reid, Morgan, act like a couple.”

At Hotch’s instruction, Morgan tentatively held out his hand. Reid took it reluctantly.

“Oh, they’re so cute,” Garcia blurted out. Hotch shot her a scowl.
“They were much better two years ago,” Hotch recalled, remembering how Reid and Morgan
had been charming and convincing at a shopping mall, holding hands and playfully sharing a
scarf.

On the screen, Morgan continued to shift nervously, and Reid kept tucking his hair behind his
ear.

“Oh for God’s sake…” Hotch groaned.

“Reid, we don’t have to be so awkward. This is work.” Morgan told Reid.

“Yeah, I know,” Reid replied.

Then, Reid’s expression suddenly shifted as he spotted someone. “I recognize a face, one of
the missing persons,” he whispered to Morgan. “Four o’clock.”

Morgan quickly glanced behind him and whispered into the wire. “We’ve found a missing
person. He’s wearing a cowboy hat and talking to a man.”

Once they focused, the agents’ awkwardness dissipated. Reid had more to say, so he wrapped
his arms around Morgan’s neck naturally, and Morgan placed his hands on the small of Reid’s
back. Reid activated the wire and whispered, “The cowboy hat he’s wearing belonged to the
last victim. Also, his southern accent is forced. The last victim was from Texas, and the man
he’s talking to has a German accent, clearly a tourist. I think this man with the hat is the
unsub, not the victim.”

“Alright. Well done, Reid,” Hotch said.

The BAU concluded that the unsub was actually one of the missing potential victims. They
identified Steven Fitzgerald as the unsub, who had been missing for two months.

Hotch and Emily arrived at the bar to evacuate the premises. Morgan successfully
apprehended Steven Fitzgerald.

***

After the case in Miami wrapped up, JJ, Emily, and Reid were invited to stay at Morgan’s
vacation house, one of his four properties. JJ decided to pass, choosing instead to meet her
boyfriend, Detective William La Montane—an admission she had just made. Emily also
backed out suddenly, claiming she had plans to meet a friend from Florida. She gave Morgan
a meaningful pat on the shoulder before heading out. With the others gone, Morgan took Reid
to his Miami retreat.

It was a cozy, single-story vacation house in a charming Miami neighborhood. It had a warm,
terracotta roof and white walls. The front yard was full of lush plants and palm trees. Inside,
the living area was bright and airy with white floors and aqua walls. The comfy sofa was
adorned with light blue pillows, and the small kitchen had modern appliances and ceramic
dishes.
“Wow,” Reid said, clearly impressed. “This place is immaculate. You mentioned you hired
Property Management Services?”

“Yeah, along with Security Services,” Morgan replied.

“I had no idea.”

As Morgan brewed coffee, Reid sank into the comfortable sofa, feeling at ease in the inviting
space.

***

Maybe I’m trying too hard…?

Tina thought, examining her reflection in the mirror. She wore a deep V-neck dress that
accentuated her cleavage, and she liked what she saw. Her makeup was flawless, with red lips
adding a seductive touch to her striking Latino features.

She found the white-wall house that Derek had described. Cute house, she mused. Tina rang
the doorbell and was a bit taken aback when Dr. Reid answered.

“Oh. Hi. Uh… Detective Lopez,” Reid stammered, consciously looking away from Tina’s
exposed cleavage.

Tina frowned and asked, “Is Derek here?”

“Uh, yes. He’s, he's here. I’ll get him,” Reid replied.

“Wait. Why are you here?” Tina asked, her tone tinged with annoyance.

“What? What do you mean?” Reid asked, confused.

Tina sighed. “Derek gave me this address and told me to stop by. You’re an adult, so you
know what that implies.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Reid said, clearly flustered.

Tina crossed her arms and stared at Reid. “All I’m saying is, can you give Derek and me
some privacy tonight? I’m sure you can find somewhere else to stay.”

Reid was taken aback and didn’t know how to respond.

“Tina,” Morgan said, appearing from behind Reid.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. When I said ‘stop by,’ I meant it literally—
just a brief visit,” Morgan’s tone was cold. “There were supposed to be two other people
from my work here. You’ve completely misunderstood my intentions.”

Tina’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“But it turned out it’s just me and him…” Morgan said, suddenly wrapping his arms around
Reid from behind. Reid’s eyes widened in surprise, and he froze.

“So, Detective Lopez, can you give us some privacy?” Morgan asked.

“This is a joke, right?” Tina said, half-laughing.

“No,” Morgan replied, shaking his head with a solemn expression. “He’s the person I want to
spend the night with.” Morgan tightened his embrace around Reid and kissed the side of his
face.

Tina saw the seriousness in Morgan’s eyes and the flush on Reid’s face, and she realized this
was no joke. The awkwardness she had noticed earlier suddenly made sense. She realized
that she had deeply offended Derek by treating Dr. Reid disrespectfully.

Tina nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I misjudged everything.” She turned and left.

Morgan immediately let Reid go and said, “I'm sorry. She was so rude to you that I got really
worked up.”

Morgan still seemed to be upset.

“I saw you flirting with her earlier today. Are you sure it was okay to turn her down?” Reid
asked.

“I don’t want anything to do with someone who doesn’t respect you,” Morgan replied with
disgust.

After a few moments, Reid looked at Morgan with a hint of a smirk.

“So?”

Morgan prepared himself for Reid‘s sassy teasing.

“‘What are you thinking of doing with me?‘”

“Let’s see,” Morgan said with a grin. “I have a lot in mind.”

Reid clearly didn’t expect that reply. His smirk shifted to a look of flustered surprise.
“What?”

“First, we’ll play chess. Then, we’ll have a night snack with green tea. After that, we’ll listen
to the 70-minute Ninth Symphony,” Morgan said.

Reid laughed and added, “AKA the forest of comfort?”

Morgan laughed too, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. AKA the forest of comfort.”

Morgan went to the cabinet and took out the portable chess board.
By the time the Ninth Symphony ended on Morgan’s device, it was 2 a.m., and both agents
were fast asleep on the sofa.
 Kiss Me
Chapter Summary

They gazed at each other, and then Reid rested his chin on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Morgan. Kiss me,” Reid whispered.

“Please. Don’t make me say it again.”

Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 3, Episode 20 and Season 4, Episode 1.
It's May 2008.

The city was on high alert.

The BAU team began to suspect they had misjudged the profile. Everything the terrorists had
done so far might have been a diversion for something even bigger. The subway killings were
now believed to be carried out by multiple individuals as part of a larger terrorist plot, with
those killings serving merely as a test for a more devastating attack to come.

Amidst the growing tension and chaos, Morgan and Reid had been working separately on the
case.

Then, a car bomb exploded near the New York FBI headquarters. The vehicle belonged to
Joyner. Outside the car, Hotch was injured, suffering from severe ringing in his ears but
otherwise alive and mobile. Joyner, however, was critically injured.

The profilers realized too late that the ambulance transporting Joyner also contained
explosives meant for the hospital. The terrorists’ plan was to bomb the hospital and eliminate
a VIP patient.

When Morgan discovered the explosives in the back of the ambulance, he acted without
hesitation. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he started the engine. As gunshots rang out behind
him, he slammed the accelerator. Garcia, on the phone, heard the commotion and cried,
“What was that!?”

“It’s nothing. Just talk to me!” Morgan shouted back.

----
“Can you not do that again?” Reid’s voice echoed in Morgan’s mind.

It was after the Christmas party. Morgan recalled Reid’s anxious, frustrated expression.

“Do what?” Morgan had asked.

“Risk your life like that.” Reid’s voice had trembled with emotion. Seeing Reid’s face,
Morgan had promised, “I won’t do that again.”

Morgan remembered Reid’s skeptical look.

----

I can't die. Not now.

Morgan thought as he drove the ambulance frantically. “Garcia, keep talking to me.”

He needed to push Reid out of his mind. Focus. Focus. Time was running out. Sweat trickled
down his cheeks.

Garcia gave him directions to guide the vehicle to a remote field, far from any buildings
where the explosives could detonate safely.

Morgan continued to talk to Garcia, needing her support more than ever.

“Why is it always you? Why do you always have to do this?” Garcia’s voice trembled.

“Garcia, please, just keep talking.”

“We don’t have much time left. Get out of there!” Garcia urged.

Morgan’s heart raced. “There’s something I need you to know, Garcia.”

The countdown to the explosion had begun.

“Save it. Just get out!” Garcia begged.

“No, I'm not quite there yet.”

“Morgan!”

“Just listen to me…”

“Morgan, please.”

“You know what you are, Garcia?”

“Morgan!”

Garcia almost screamed when she heard the explosion. The ambulance exploded.
“Derek... Derek?”

The shockwave from the explosion hit Morgan’s back. Blinding light, deafening noise, and
searing heat. When Morgan looked back, the ambulance was engulfed in intense flames.

Morgan quickly pressed the phone to his ear.

“Garcia? I’ll tell you what you are. You’re my God-given solace. Woman, you promise me
one thing—whatever happens... don’t you ever stop talking to me.”

“I can’t right now because I’m mad at you.”

“I can wait.” Morgan exhaled, grateful for Garcia’s bravery and friendship.

***

The team returned to their hotel rooms at different times. Hotchner and Morgan underwent
medical checks and checked into the hotel later that night.

Morgan immediately took a shower and collapsed onto the bed.

Reid... come and comfort me...

Morgan longed for him. They hadn’t seen each other throughout the case in New York.
Morgan wondered if Reid was angry with him, especially after the incident with the bomb.

When he heard a knock on the door, his heart leapt. He told himself it could be anyone—
don’t get your hopes up.

But it was him. The man Morgan had been longing for.

Reid stood there, wearing his signature thick glasses, a white t-shirt, and loose gray
sweatpants. His hair was tousled as if he had just towel-dried it. He also carried a book.

Before Reid could speak, Morgan blurted, “I missed you.”

The moment Reid saw Morgan, his face flushed, and he glanced sideways. Morgan noticed
he was standing topless.

Morgan let him in and quickly grabbed a shirt to put on.

“Are you mad at me about today?” Morgan asked.

Reid glanced at Morgan but didn’t say anything. Instead, he asked, “Can I read here?” and sat
on the sofa, opening his book.

“Sure. I’ll get you some coffee.” Morgan smiled.

He set two cups of coffee on the side table and sat next to Reid.
Morgan watched as the genius’s fingers moved from top to bottom, turning pages with
efficiency. He observed Reid’s face, his eye movements behind the glasses, his long, golden
eyelashes, perfectly shaped nose, and... thin, alluring lips.

“Stop looking at me.”

“Sorry.”

Without a book of his own, Morgan kept pestering Reid.

“What are you reading?”

“Contemporary Metaphysics.”

“Aren’t you gonna read it to me?”

“It’s, uh... too difficult for you.”

Morgan pouted, but Reid continued reading, oblivious.

Morgan lay down and rested his head on Reid’s lap, finally managing to get a reaction.

“What are you doing?” Reid stopped reading, startled.

“Trying to annoy you.”

“Morgan, are you teasing me?”

Reid’s tone was stern, reminding Morgan of their previous argument about teasing.

Morgan pouted again and sat up. “Fine.”

“Can I watch TV?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah, but can you use your headphones?”

Morgan rolled his eyes. The young man had clearly forgotten he was in Morgan’s room.

Morgan sat on the bed, put on his headphones, and started watching the local basketball
game.

After a few minutes, Reid pulled the headphone cord from the TV, turned up the volume
slightly, and sat next to him to watch.

“Do you like watching basketball?” Morgan asked, recalling that Reid sometimes came to
watch him play after work.

“I do, actually,” Reid replied.

As they watched, Reid spoke up,

“Notice how they’re setting up the zone defense? They’re really packing the paint to guard
against the drive. But see how the point guard is moving the ball? They’re shifting the
defense and finding gaps. That’s why the shooters are getting open looks. Also, the bench
players are keeping the pace up, which is tiring out the starters. And the rebounding—notice
how they’re consistently boxing out and grabbing those offensive boards? That’s leading to
extra points. The other team is starting to get flustered and forcing bad shots. Smart play all
around.”

Morgan looked at Reid, dumbfounded.

“Since when do you know so much about basketball?”

“I coached a high school basketball team.”

“You did not!”

“I did.” Reid laughed with amusement.

“You scare me.” Morgan shook his head.

After the game ended, it was 11 p.m.

Reid glanced at the clock. “I should go.”

He got off the bed and headed for the door.

“Okay...” Morgan said, following him to see him off.

“Reid... Are you fine?” Morgan asked before Reid opened the door.

Reid paused for a few seconds, then turned around and gave Morgan a hug.

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry… again.”

After a brief silence, Reid murmured,

“I was thinking... if there comes a day when you tell me you’re leaving the BAU, whether for
marriage, health reasons, or anything else, I might actually be happy.”

“Why?”

Reid looked at Morgan.

“I’d be relieved that you won’t be in danger all the time like now. Instead of seeing your life
at risk up close all the time, knowing you are out there living happily might be easier.”

Morgan took Reid’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Reid, I’m not gonna die.”

Reid didn’t respond. They both knew the risk was always present.

They gazed at each other, and then Reid rested his chin on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Morgan. Kiss me,” Reid whispered.

“Please. Don’t make me say it again.”

Morgan’s heart started to pound furiously. He swallowed. Their hands were still held
together.

“Reid.”

Reid looked down.

“Reid, I…”

It felt like his heart was about to leap out of his mouth. He swallowed again.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have…”

Reid looked at Morgan.

“I know. I don’t want to either. Just one kiss, and we’ll go back to being brothers.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. Once I kiss you, I don’t think I can go back.”

Reid pursed his lips.

“Reid, how do you feel about me?”

Morgan repeated the same question he asked him before.

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“See, Reid,” Morgan said softly, “you’ll confuse yourself more.”

“...Right.”

Morgan stared at his friend, torn by conflicting desires. Part of him yearned to kiss Reid,
imagining the sensation of pressing his lips against his. The idea alone made his heart ache
with longing. Yet another part of him warned against it, fearing that a kiss could jeopardize
their already precarious friendship.

“I’m sorry, Morgan. Forget what I said.”

Reid gave a small, sad smile.

Reid let go of Morgan’s hand, and gently touched his shoulder, signaling that he wasn’t upset
or offended.

“Good night, Morgan.”

Reid left the room.

 Autumn Date
Chapter Summary

Reid’s face turned crimson instantly.

“Are you seriously bringing that up now?” He rubbed his face in an attempt to mask his
embarrassment.

Chapter Notes

It's September 2008. Reid is 26, Morgan is 35 years old.

From June to the end of August, Summer 2008 was uneventful and stable compared to the
previous year. Last summer, Morgan had stood by Reid through his agonizing withdrawal
from dilaudid. This summer, however, nothing significant happened between them.

Morgan never regretted not kissing Reid the night he came to his hotel room in New York.
Yet he couldn't help but wonder how things might have changed if he had. This summer
might have felt different, even hotter, if he had acted on that impulse. Despite his efforts to
keep his imagination in check, his mind kept drifting back to Reid’s whispered words.

“Morgan. Kiss me.”

Reid had spoken those words while resting his chin on Morgan’s shoulder. The memory of
Reid’s breath against his skin, the vibration of the voice through his shoulder, and the
fluttering excitement in his chest lingered vividly.

“Please. Don’t make me say it again,” Reid had whispered.

In his daydreams, Morgan imagined an alternate reality. He pictured himself gently cupping
Reid’s face and kissing him slowly, savoring the softness of his lips. Reid would respond, and
they wouldn’t part until they were breathless. Morgan’s hand would slide from Reid’s cheek
to the back of his neck, tracing his jawline and tangling in his soft, curly hair.

Morgan pulled himself from the daydream before he could kiss Reid’s neck. He exhaled,
guilt creeping in as his arousal subsided.

With summer’s end drawing near, the shops began displaying autumn decorations, already
hinting at the festive mood of Halloween.
***

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Reid rushed out of his apartment, looking relaxed in a moss-green
sweater and sunglasses.

Morgan appreciated how Reid, despite being very good-looking, was completely oblivious to
his own attractiveness. Reid’s lack of self-consciousness about his appearance was something
Morgan found endearing.

Reid slid into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

“To the mall,” Morgan replied. “I need to pick out a birthday gift for my sister. Help me
choose something nice.”

“Great, I wanted to get something for JJ too.”

It was a beautiful autumn day, and the mall was decked out for Halloween, which excited
Reid.

“The tradition dates back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,” Reid began. “People
would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. In the eighth century, Pope
Gregory III designated November 1 as All Saints Day, which absorbed some of the Samhain
customs.”

“Mm-hmm,” Morgan replied, half-listening.

Reid continued, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s lack of enthusiasm. “The celebration of

Halloween was extremely limited in colonial New England because of the rigid Protestant
belief systems there. Halloween was much more common in Maryland and the southern
colonies.”

“Reid. Reid.”

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

“Sorry.”

Morgan selected a scarf for his sister, while Reid chose a herbal and organic tea assortment
for JJ, who had recently announced her pregnancy.

Afterward, they grabbed sandwiches and coffee and settled on a bench outside.

“Did you get the results of your annual health check-up?” Morgan asked.

“I did, yesterday,” Reid replied, his mouth full.

“How’d it go? Any health issues?”

“No. You?”

“Mine was good too. How much do you weigh?”

“69 kg.”

“You need to eat more,” Morgan said. “I weigh 86 kg, and we’re the same height.”

Reid pouted, and Morgan chuckled.

Even after they had finished their sandwiches, they stayed on the bench, lost in pleasant
conversation about the little things.

A brief silence fell between them before Morgan spoke up.

“Reid, can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“The other day, you said you weren’t sure if you loved me. So why did you ask me to kiss
you?” Morgan asked.

Reid’s face turned crimson instantly.

“Are you seriously bringing that up now?” He rubbed his face in an attempt to mask his
embarrassment.

“I told you to forget it,” Reid said, his discomfort evident.

“I know it’s confusing, but can you try to explain?” Morgan’s tone was serious.

Reid looked down, speaking nervously. “I, uh... I guess...” He frowned to himself and cleared
throat.

“I’m... I’m attracted to you.”

He looked at Morgan very briefly and looked down again. The admission made Reid flush.

“Since when?”

“Uh, last year... around the time Rossi came.”

Morgan nodded, the crisp autumn breeze rustling the leaves and wrapping them in a gentle
embrace.

“I’m attracted to you too,” Morgan said softly.

Reid looked up, surprised. “Really?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” Reid said, frowning.

“So... is it okay with you that I have these feelings? Does it make you uncomfortable?” Reid
asked.

“It’s okay with me,” Morgan said with a smile.

“So... what are we?” Reid asked anxiously. “Will this ruin what we have like you said? Will it
ruin our friendship?”

“No,” Morgan reassured him. “Attraction or no attraction, I’m always your sanctuary.”

Reid looked at Morgan for a few seconds.

“Okay...That’s good to know.” He smiled.

Reid then added, “Now you know why I had avoided you.”

Morgan’s brows furrowed as he recalled the time he’d asked Reid about it. Reid had snapped,
saying it was “something personal.”

“Is that what you meant by ‘personal’? That you were attracted to me?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Reid admitted, his voice tinged with shyness.

Morgan’s smile softened. He reached out and gently caressed Reid’s cheek. “Now I know.”

Morgan almost confessed that he loved Reid, but stopped himself, not wanting to push Reid
further.

Despite the lingering awkwardness and shyness, the silence that followed was pleasant and
comforting, much like the autumn breeze surrounding them.
 Love Sickness
Chapter Summary

For the days following Reid’s admission that he was attracted to him, Morgan felt as if
he were suffering from a mild case of love sickness.

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 2. It's October 2008. Reid is 26,
Morgan is 35 years old.

Everyone on the team knew this case wouldn’t be straightforward when they discovered that
the DNA from the semen found in the victim matched that of a serial killer from their town a
decade ago. The serial killer, known as the Angel Maker, had already been executed.

The team was gathered in the jet, en route to Waine, Ohio, engrossed in discussion.

“Someone planted the semen on the victim,” Hotch said, his brow furrowed.

“In the victim,” Morgan corrected him.

Reid, deep in thought, remarked, “That’s one theory.”

JJ, standing behind his seat, leaned forward and asked, “Is there another?”

“Think about who shares the exact DNA makeup of another person,” Reid said, his eyes
reflecting a spark of insight.

“Reid, you're not seriously floating around the idea of an evil twin, are you?” Morgan asked
skeptically, sitting in front of Reid.

“No, I'm not. I'm floating around the idea of an 'eviler' twin,” Reid responded dramatically.

Morgan and Emily blinked.

Reid explained, “Traditionally, the concept involves a 'good twin' and an 'evil twin.' But in
this case,” Reid continued with hand gestures, face serious and dramatic,

“It’s an 'evil twin' and an 'EVILER twin.'”

Everyone stared at Reid.

In moments like these, they couldn’t help but question how the genius’s IQ sometimes
seemed to plummet to below average.

Reid looked a bit puzzled by the lack of reaction from the team. Morgan, however, struggled
to stifle a chuckle. He found Reid’s unintentional dorkiness endearing.

***

Reid arrived at the office this morning with a new hairstyle. His bangs remained long, but the
back was neatly trimmed, giving him a sharper look. Morgan couldn’t stop sneaking glances
at his friend.

As they were getting off the jet, Morgan playfully flipped a lock of Reid’s hair into his face
and said, “Nice hair, by the way.”

Reid brushed his hair back with a slight blush and replied, “Thanks.”

Emily shook her head, exasperated with herself for always noticing the boys’ middle school-
style flirting.

For the days following Reid’s admission that he was attracted to him, Morgan felt as if he
were suffering from a mild case of love sickness. He was plagued by butterflies in his
stomach, struggled to sleep at night, and found himself unable to stop stealing glances at
Reid. It was as if he were a teenager all over again.

***

Upon landing in Ohio, Hotch quickly assigned tasks as usual. He took Reid to the crime
scene, while Emily and Rossi headed to the morgue. Morgan was sent to the local prison to
retrieve the serial killer's mail, and JJ went to the local police station.

The team later reconvened at the police station to share their findings and develop a profile.
They determined that the unsub is a white woman in her 30s, highly intelligent, and suffering
from hybristophilia—sexual attraction to criminals. She had obtained the serial killer’s semen
from prison guard Sid Rutledge.

***

“Anything?” Reid asked Morgan, who was sifting through the letters he had retrieved from
the prison and comparing them to the sender information on the computer screen that Garcia
had provided.

“I’m still sorting through them,” Morgan replied.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Reid said.

“These are screen protectors. My eyes get tired from staring at the screen for too long.”
“Hmm…”

Reid, disinterested, sat down next to Morgan and began going through the letters himself.

Morgan watched him.

“Reid, can you say ‘rituals’?” Morgan asked.

“‘Rituals’? Why?”

“That! Again.”

“‘Rituals.’”

“Hmmm. Thanks.”

A satisfied smile spread across Morgan’s face.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Am I saying it wrong or something?”

“No, it’s just… I like it.”

“You like what?”

Reid looked confused and slightly annoyed.

“The way your lips move. It’s cute.”

Reid’s jaw dropped in disbelief, then he frowned.

“You know, you look kinda old with those glasses,” Reid shot back, only to amuse Morgan
even more.

***

JJ, Morgan, and Reid were given some time off for an early dinner.

Waine, a tiny village in Wood County, Ohio, had few dining options. They decided to try the
Country Farmhouse, a small, cozy restaurant recommended by a local police officer.

The restaurant exuded a warm, quaint charm, and Reid was delighted to discover an ice
cream parlor inside.

After their meal, the friendly restaurant owner gave them a tour. Behind the restaurant, they
found a small chicken coop, part of the family’s farm. Since the owner’s children were eager
to interact with the FBI agents, JJ, Morgan, and Reid spent about 30 minutes playing with
them.
Reid suddenly announced, “I can hypnotize chickens,” which excited the children. They
eagerly shouted, “Show us! Do it!”

JJ and Morgan exchanged amused glances, curious about Reid’s next move. Reid caught a
wandering chicken and gently lifted it up.

“This chicken is awake. We’re all in agreement here, right? We all believe this chicken is
awake?”

“Yes!!” The children bounced with excitement, giggling.

“Now, I’ll put this chicken into a deep, hypnotic state, in complete silence.”

Reid carefully placed the chicken on its side on the ground and began to whisper softly.

“Shhhh... You are getting sleepy. You are getting sleepy, you are getting sleepy…”

Morgan and JJ watched with skeptical expressions.

“I’ll raise my hand. On the count of five, you’ll go into a deep trance. One, two, three, four,
five…”

Reid slowly let go of the chicken and stood up. To everyone’s surprise, the chicken remained
still, lying on the ground.

“Do you see it?” Reid asked the children.

The kids’ eyes widened as they nodded enthusiastically, covering their mouths in excitement.

Reid whispered to the chicken once more.

“On the count of three, you’ll wake up. One, two, three!”

With a snap of his fingers, the chicken abruptly stood up and began flapping its wings.

The children erupted in cheers.

“Okay, how did you do that?” Morgan asked with a laugh. Reid grinned and brushed off the
chicken feathers from his shirt and tie.

***

The next day, Reid and Rossi analyzed the correspondence between the Angel Maker and the
unsub. They quickly realized it was encoded.

“He meticulously arranged each word and letter,” Reid said, concentrating on the letter and
tracing the words with his index finger.

“So it’s a code,” Rossi remarked, glancing at Reid.

“This steganographic method would allow him to write letters that don’t appear in cipher.
The real message would be hiding in plain sight,” Reid explained, still focused on the
document.

“What do you need to crack it?” Rossi asked eagerly.

“The ability to clone myself and a year’s supply of Adderall.” Reid looked at Rossi and
replied.

Rossi nodded.“I’ll get the coffee.”

Reid remained in the same spot, nearly in the same posture, working on decoding the letter
for over an hour.

Morgan sighed, preparing to approach him, but Rossi stopped him.

“Don’t bother him. He’s in his zone.”

“Doesn’t he need any help?” Morgan asked, concern evident.

“He says the only person who could assist him right now is his clone,” Rossi answered.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and nodded. Rossi patted him on the shoulder.

Morgan watched the genius work. Reid was deeply focused, his brows furrowed. As he
examined the letter, his gaze occasionally shifted sideways, as if recalling something. His lips
moved as if reading aloud. He took quick notes, repeating the process. Occasionally, he
rested his chin on his hand and stared intently at his notes. The rapid, subtle movements of
his eyes suggested he was performing complex calculations.

Morgan watched in admiration.

Reid finally stretched, apparently having completed his task.

When the team gathered, Reid began to explain.

“The unsub and the Angel Maker weren’t just close; they were in love.”

“How’d you crack it?” Rossi asked, intrigued.

Reid explained, “I profiled the author. Courtland Ryan was on death row with several high-
ranking members of the Aryan Brotherhood.”

JJ frowned. “You got the code from the Aryans?”

“Either that, or you read a lot of 16th-century literature. The Aryans use a cipher based on a
400-year-old code created by Sir Francis Bacon.”

“So it’s a binary code,” Morgan said, impressed.

“Yeah. Bacon used a 21-letter alphabet, but this one uses 24. Each letter is assigned a bit-
string of five binary digits. This combination yields 32 possibly encodings. Normally, you’d
use a computer to run all these, but it was faster to do it by hand until I found the right one.”

The team was genuinely astonished by his intelligence.

Emily poked Reid on the cheek and said, “He’s so life-like.”

Everyone chuckled, including Emily. Morgan smiled at Reid, feeling a surge of pride.

From the decoded letters, they discovered that the unsub frequently used the term “us.” The
team concluded that she might have been pregnant. Garcia conducted an online search and
found a list of potential mothers. Reid recognized the name Chloe Kelcher; she had been on
the jury for the trial, and her baby had died at the hospital.

When the team located the unsub, she was agitated and shouting. As she aimed a gun at the
police and attempted to shoot, the local officers fired, killing her.

***

The team was preparing to leave.

“Anyone need directions back to the airstrip?” JJ called out.

“The town’s got only one road. We’ll find it,” Morgan replied.

Emily chimed in, “Yeah, Morgan doesn't like to follow directions. Didn’t you know that?”

“Yeah, he likes to ‘vibe it,’” Reid added.

“Alright, smartass, you drive.” Morgan tossed the car keys to Reid.

“Sweet,” Reid grinned.

JJ and Emily got in the other car, and Morgan slid into the passenger seat next to Reid.

Morgan watched Reid drive, noticing an air of masculinity he exuded behind the wheel.

After a few moments of silence, Morgan asked.

“Do you feel comfortable working with me?”

Reid’s eyes stayed on the road as he replied, “Why? Because I have a huge crush on you?”

Morgan opened his mouth, but no words came out. He often found himself at a loss around
Reid, a rarity for someone usually quick with a comeback.

“You’re so not my type, you know,” Reid said, a smirk playing at his lips.

“You have a type?” Morgan successfully shot back this time, grinning.
“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Considering your love life is practically non-existent?”

“Shut up.”

“So, what is your type?” Morgan pressed.

“Definitely not a mass of muscles.”

“Ouch,” Morgan said, feigning hurt.

Reid laughed.

“Then why do you have a crush on me?” Morgan teased.

“I don't know. Did you always have a crush on people like me?” Reid glanced over with a
playful grin.

“Good point,” Morgan laughed. “Life is unpredictable.”

“Life is unpredictable.” Reid repeated in agreement.

 Benjamin Cyrus’s Case
Chapter Summary

The team listened intently as Reid worked to gain Cyrus’s trust. Reid, calm and
collected, was delivering crucial information to the team. Morgan trusted Reid’s ability
to navigate the situation skillfully.

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 3. It's October 2008. Reid is 26,
Morgan is 35.

“HOTCH!!!!”

Morgan’s shout reverberated through the BAU floor. Instinctively, Hotch bolted out of his
office, his mind racing.

‘The TV! Prentiss and Reid...’

The fragmented thought barely formed a sentence. When Morgan was this agitated, it usually
meant Reid was involved. Hotch took a quick, concerned glance at the frantic Morgan before
turning his attention to the TV.

The screen was a frenzy of chaos: bullets streaked through the air as police and cult members
exchanged intense gunfire within a shadowy compound. Tactical officers ducked behind
makeshift barriers while the cult members returned fire.

The reporter's voice crackled with urgency.

“In La Plata County, Colorado, a routine meeting with child services has erupted into a
dangerous standoff. Authorities are engaged with a religious group known as the Sepatarian
Sect. The conflict ignited when police attempted to enter the group’s compound with a search
warrant. At least two child services workers are still believed to be inside. We’ll provide
updates as more information becomes available.”

“'Police entered the compound with a search warrant'?! We weren’t informed about that!”
Morgan shouted, his frustration evident.

***
This morning, Reid and Prentiss headed to Colorado to probe reports that the cult leader,
Benjamin Cyrus, was coercing underage children into marriage. Posing as Child Protective
Services agents, they managed to infiltrate the cult compound.

Without the team’s knowledge, the state police launched a raid on the cult compound to seize
illegal weapons. Hotch was livid to find out that this raid was timed to coincide with the
Child Protective Services operation.

If Reid and Prentiss’s true identities as FBI agents are revealed, they will be in serious danger
amid the escalating gunfight.

***

Reid held his breath, pressing his ear against the door.

Cyrus’s voice rumbled low as he spoke to his right-hand man, Chris. “An FBI agent? Are you
certain about that?”

Reid’s eyes widened. He hurried back to Emily, who was seated among the women and
children of the Sepatarian Sect.

“They’ve discovered there’s an undercover FBI agent here. They think it’s just one person.
I’ll step forward. Emily, you stay here and maintain the pretense of being uninvolved.”

“No, Reid. It has to be the other way around. I’ll step forward.”

“I can’t let you do that. Cyrus sounded furious. They’ll hurt you.”

“I can take it.”

“Emily, I can take it too.”

“Reid, from the beginning, Cyrus has been more focused on you. You’re the one who can
gain their trust. You know the Bible well. You should be the one to talk to him.”

Reid hesitated, then shook his head.

“No.”

Emily’s tone grew more urgent. “Reid, look at the children. We need to save them. We have
to do what’s best. You know it yourself you’re the one who should talk to Cyrus.”

Reid looked at Emily, his brow furrowed.

Emily reached out and took Reid’s hand. “We’ll do this together, you and I. Understand?”

“Alright,” Reid nodded.

Emily embraced Reid and kissed him on the cheek.

A few minutes later, Cyrus and Chris approached.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?” Cyrus’s voice was menacing.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Reid asked, trying to sound calm.

“God will forgive me for what I must do.” Cyrus drew a gun and pointed it at Reid.

“Me. It’s me,” Emily said, stepping forward.

Cyrus’s face twisted with rage as he seized Emily’s hair. Emily gave Reid a look that said,
“Don’t intervene. I can handle this.” Reid clenched his jaw, watching helplessly as Emily was
led away.

***

The team arrived at the compound, with Rossi stepping up as the negotiator. Their immediate
task was to get audio inside the hostage situation. When Cyrus demanded supplies, the team
decided to discreetly plant a microphone device in the compound.

“Bring us supplies so we can tend to our wounded,” Cyrus said over the phone.

“Ok. I need a few hours to put it together.

I'll bring them up myself at first light.” Rossi promised.

“I'm gonna confirm the kids, Prentiss, and Reid are ok.” Rossi said to the team assuringly.

“Rossi, at least let me go with you.” Morgan pleaded.

“No. This is about building trust. I go alone.”

Rossi entered the compound with the supplies and successfully planted the microphone. He
exchanged a brief, discreet nod with Reid, signaling that the team could now eavesdrop on
the conversations inside.

The team listened intently as Reid worked to gain Cyrus’s trust. Morgan eagerly adjusted his
headphones, focusing on Reid’s voice. Reid, calm and collected, was delivering crucial
information to the team. Morgan trusted Reid’s ability to navigate the situation skillfully.

Reid knew he had to stay smart and composed, pushing aside his concern and anger over
Emily’s situation.

“Did you know she was FBI?” Cyrus asked Reid, glaring at him.

“My supervisor told me she was a child abuse expert from Denver,” Reid replied, shaking his
head slightly. “He’s never lied to me in the four years I’ve worked with him.”

“That’s how it is now. Their laws say a fifteen-year-old is a child. Fifty years ago, they
considered a fourteen-year-old an adult. Have children really changed so much in fifty
years?” Cyrus ranted.
“I’ve investigated many abuse claims against small religious groups,” Reid said, supporting
Cyrus’s perspective. “Most turn out to be false.”

“What’s your take on that?” Cyrus pressed.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think,” Reid replied modestly.

“It does to me.”

“Why?”

“Because God wants to save you. That’s why He sent you here,” Cyrus said, with Chris
nodding in agreement.

“On the next call, you should test the negotiator,” Reid suggested. “Make him prove he’s not
lying.”

“How would I do that?”

“Ask for the identity of the FBI agent.”

Reid continued, “Tell them you’ll release a child and won’t harm the agent. If they truly care
about the children, they’ll have to give up the information. If they don’t hold up their end of
the deal, you’ll know they can’t be trusted.”

“He makes a good point,” Cyrus admitted.

“Reid is giving us a chance to gain Cyrus’s trust,” Rossi said to the team.

Cyrus picked up his phone and called Rossi.

“I’ll release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent. I promise no harm will come
to her from now on.”

A small girl was released. Confused, she walked outside, and Rossi, seeing it wasn’t a trap,
sent Morgan to retrieve her.

“Hey, it's ok. It's ok. Come to me, sweetie.”

Morgan ran over to the child and picked her up, holding her close to him.
“I got you. You're safe now.”

“Alright. Her name is Emily Prentiss. She came in with a child services worker to talk to the
girls,” Rossi told Cyrus, feigning reluctance.

***

“Assemble everyone in the chapel. Get Agent Prentiss down here,” Cyrus ordered Chris.

Reid was anxious to see Emily, and when he finally did, his heart broke. Emily’s face was
marked with bruises and cuts.
“It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in
God,” Ben announced to the crowd. “They no longer love us. They wish to abandon us.
When I call your name, please stand. Todd Sutters. Melanie Sutters. Evan Radley…”

As Ben continued to call out names, Reid moved closer to Emily. “I’m so sorry,” he
whispered, his face filled with anguish.

“Don’t,” Emily said firmly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. What’s happening here? Who is he
calling out?”

“They’re the ones who failed the loyalty test. They’ll be released,” Reid explained.

Emily sighed in relief.

“We’ll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will
come.” Reid whispered quickly.

Noticing Cyrus watching them, Reid approached him with a calm demeanor. “I told her she
shouldn’t have lied to you like that,” he said smoothly.

***

Chris turned to Cyrus. “I don’t understand. Why did you let them go?”

Reid answered before Cyrus could respond. “They weren’t prepared to do what needs to be
done.”

The entire team listened intently, keen not to miss any part of Reid’s message.

Chris shot a glare at Reid. “You’re not one of us! You don’t know what it takes to be
prepared!”

Cyrus, however, calmly instructed Chris to listen to Reid.

Reid continued, “They failed the test. They had a chance to prove their faith when Cyrus said
they’d need to sacrifice themselves for God, but instead, they revealed their unworthiness.
That’s why Cyrus wants the media to witness your true final act of sacrifice.”

Chris demanded, “How do you know that?”

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Reid replied.

Rossi got the massage, “Reid's talking to us! He wants a sign when we're coming in. He's
telling us this is it! Time has run out! We've got to go in!”

The BAU decided to storm the compound at 3 pm. Morgan used a red light from a sniper rifle
to signal to Reid and Prentiss that the operation would begin at that time.

***
Cyrus revealed that he was planning a mass suicide. He took out the dynamite and the
blasting detonator. Reid feared 3 pm might be too late.

Cyrus looked out the window and saw that the BAU was about to storm the scene. Infuriated,
he shouted, “They lied to me!”

The team moved quickly, entering the building and guiding people outside. Rossi spotted
Emily coming out and embraced her.

“Emily, you all right?” Morgan asked as he ran up to her.

One of the SWAT team members shouted, “They’ve wired explosives. This building’s gonna
blow!”

“Where’s Reid?!” Morgan asked, panic-stricken.

“He’s in the chapel with Cyrus! We’ve got to get Reid!” Emily cried, trying to rush back into
the building.

Morgan stopped her firmly. “Prentiss, I’ll get Reid!”

***

Meanwhile, Reid was trying to dissuade Cyrus, who was holding the detonator.

“Jeremiah 29:11: ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper
you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Is blowing yourself up part of
the prosperous future that God wants?”

Cyrus entered and saw what Reid was doing. Enraged, he shouted, “You think you know the
Word better than I do?!”

“No. I'm just demonstrating that you can use the Bible to manipulate anything.” Reid said
bitterly.

Cyrus leaned in close to Reid and said menacingly, “Matthew 10:34: ‘Do not suppose that I
have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.’”

Reid didn’t flinch; he stared daggers at Cyrus.

“You cannot convert my brothers!” Cyrus roared.

He then punched Reid’s abdomen hard twice. Reid collapsed to the floor.

Morgan moved through the building with intense focus. The layout of the compound was
clear in his mind, and his thoughts were sharp.

Cyrus pointed a rifle at Reid, ready to shoot him. “No one had to follow. God could have
stopped me!”
Morgan, while catching sight of Reid cowering at the edge of his vision, remained focused on
his shooting. Bullets struck Cyrus and Chris several times, and both of them fell.

“He just did!” Reid spat at Cyrus.

“Reid!!”

Morgan called out urgently as he rushed to him, who seemed to have been hit in the
abdomen.

Morgan supported Reid and helped him to his feet.

“Where’s Emily?” Reid asked.

“We got her out of here,” Morgan replied.

Just then, one of Cyrus’s followers staggered into the chapel and reached for the detonator.

Noticing this, Reid grabbed Morgan’s hand and shouted,

“RUN!!!”

***

Amidst the chaotic cloud of dust and debris from the explosion, Reid and Morgan sprinted
through the wreckage-strewn hallways of the compound. The walls were crumbling, smoke
choked the air, and alarms blared. They dodged fallen beams and shattered glass, gripping
each other’s hands and supporting one another with every step as they made a desperate dash
for the exit.

When they finally escaped the building, both coughing severely, Reid heard Emily shouting
their names.

“Reid! Morgan!”

Reid staggered over to Emily, and the two embraced tightly.

“We did it,” Emily said.

“Yeah,” Reid replied.

***

The next day, the team flew back to Quantico on a private jet.

Emily sat in front of Reid who was reading a book. He still couldn’t bear to look at her
bruised and pained face.

“Hey,” Emily said softly, “I need you to listen to me.”

Reid looked up at her.

Emily held Reid‘s hands.

“What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision, and I would do it again. I
couldn't have done what you did. We did the best we could.”

Reid looked down, fighting back tears.

“Do you hear me?”

Reid nodded.

“Thank you,” Emily said with a warm smile.

 Spare Key
Chapter Summary

“It’s a spare key to my apartment. I’m lending it to you for a week, so I don't need to
open the door.”

Morgan’s cheeks flushed at the mention of the “spare key.”

Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 4, Episode 3. It's October 2008. Reid is 26,
Morgan is 35.

Since the Benjamin Cyrus case, Morgan has struggled with insomnia. Each time he closes his
eyes, his mind is consumed by flames and the image of Reid engulfed in them. The two of
them could have escaped the blaze together, hand in hand. Though Reid is safe and
peacefully sleeping in his apartment, Morgan remains restless, plagued by anxiety and fear.

Strangely, the haunting images from the Cyrus case intermingle with memories from “The
Kingfisher” case over two years ago—a case marked by a similar explosion. In that incident,
Morgan, Reid, and Hotch narrowly escaped an exploding building. Reid’s back had caught
fire, and Morgan had desperately extinguished the flames with a cloth. Every time he recalls
that moment, he breaks into a cold sweat. Despite trying to focus on the positive—how he
managed to save Reid and they all escaped safely—the tormenting memory persists.

During work hours, the flashbacks don’t intrude. Morgan reassures himself that he’s fine,
hoping for a good night’s sleep. But as night falls, the torment of flames and Reid’s image
returns. After several days of sleepless nights, Morgan finds himself at Reid’s apartment in
the dead of night.

It was evident Reid had been asleep.

“Reid... I’m sorry for showing up so late. I needed to see you’re okay.”

“Why? I only did office work today.”

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping since the Cyrus case.”

“Mm... okay...”
Reid, still half-asleep, let Morgan in and closed the door.

“So, um...” Reid rubbed his eyes. “Do you... want to sleep on the bed?”

“No, don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep. I’ll just watch you sleep.”

“...Okay...”

Reid crawled back into bed, trying to reclaim sleep.

But now he was awake. He sat up on the bed.

Morgan was sitting on the floor by the bed, with a sleep-deprived face.

“Are you okay?” Reid asked.

“Yeah... as long as you’re right in front of me.”

“Were you... worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

Reid scratched his neck.

“Morgan, come here.”

Morgan hesitated to get on the bed.

“It's ok, come here.”

Morgan sat beside Reid. Reid reached out, pulling him close, and began rubbing his back.

“You... can’t sleep?” Reid asked softly.

“Flashbacks...” Morgan sighed.

“A few days of flashbacks are normal after intense cases.”

“I know... but they’re mixed with memories from an old case. Do you remember the
Kingfisher case? You found the unsub with a bomb strapped to him. You tried to...”

Although Morgan was speaking seriously, Reid started to drift back to sleep. Morgan's warm
body and scent always provided Reid with a deep sense of comfort. As Reid stroked
Morgan's back, he rested his head on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan's voice grew distant. Reid’s
hand, which had been stroking Morgan’s back, fell limp, and his arm around Morgan's
shoulder dropped as well.

When Morgan stopped talking, he found Reid asleep, breathing softly on his shoulder.
Supporting Reid's body, Morgan reached for a pillow and gently placed it under Reid’s head.
Quietly, so as not to wake Reid, he lowered himself to the floor, resting his head on the bed,
and fell asleep listening to Reid’s gentle breathing. Even while sitting up, the sleep was far
more comfortable and restful than in his own large bed.

Early the next morning, Morgan had to wake Reid up. “Reid, I'm leaving. Lock the door,
ok?”

The following night, Morgan returned to Reid’s place.

On the third night, Reid didn’t even bother with conversation. He opened the door and went
straight back to bed.

***

At work the next day, Reid handed Morgan a small brown envelope.

“What’s this?”

Reid glanced around to ensure no one was listening before whispering, “It’s a spare key to
my apartment. I’m lending it to you for a week, so I don't need to open the door.”

Morgan’s cheeks flushed at the mention of the “spare key.”

“Thanks.”

When no one was around, Morgan opened the envelope to find a key and a note.

[Morgan,

You can come in. Don’t wake me.

I’ll make a space for you on the bed, so don’t sleep on the floor.]

The feel of the key in his hand sent a flutter through Morgan’s stomach.

***

That night, he quietly unlocked the door and entered the apartment. He exhaled deeply, trying
to calm his nerves.

Entering the bedroom, he found Reid already on the bed. Morgan’s heart raced as he slid into
the room.

A thin blanket was neatly rolled up lengthwise and put in the middle of bed as a partition.
Reid was sleeping on the right side, leaving the other side open.

Morgan lay down on the empty side and watched Reid’s back, which was facing the wall. His
heartbeat quickened as he sensed Reid was awake. Morgan could always tell when Reid was
fake sleeping.

He gazed at Reid’s delicate, slender back and imagined the pale skin beneath his T-shirt.
Overwhelmed by the urge to hold him, Morgan turned away and faced the opposite direction.
 Partition
Chapter Summary

“Did you catch me?” Reid said without turning around.

“Yep. You’re caught.”

After showering, Reid sat on the bed and adjusted the long, narrow blanket, making sure it
was placed in the center of the bed as a divider.

His heart raced as he stared at the empty space beside him, unsure why he felt so nervous
today.

It was probably because he watched Morgan’s fitness test earlier today. Although BAU
members weren't required to take the FBI Fitness Test, some, including Morgan, chose to
participate every year.

***

The test took place in the morning, as the sun began to warm the crisp autumn air at the
facility's outdoor training area.

Reid stood on the sidelines as he watched, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

First up was the timed run. Morgan took off like a bullet from the starting line. His muscles
rippled under his fitted workout shirt as he sprinted. He was fast. His stride was powerful and
smooth, and he crossed the finish line in record time. Reid's chest swelled with a mix of pride
and admiration.

Next was the obstacle course, a complex maze of ropes, walls, and tunnels stretching across
the area. Many agents and officers struggled with it.

Morgan approached the starting line with confident strides. As the whistle blew, he surged
into action with a burst of speed. He charged at a high wall and, with a single, fluid motion,
leaped over it effortlessly, landing softly on the other side.

He tackled the series of ropes hanging from a frame next. As he climbed, his biceps flexed
and his back muscles shifted with each movement. He swung across them with a grace that
seemed almost effortless.

Reid could hear the cheers and claps of the other agents as Morgan advanced through the
obstacles.
At the end of the tests, Morgan beamed, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction. His shirt
clung to his body, accentuating every muscle and leaving Reid both dazzled and giddy.

Morgan walked over to Reid, still catching his breath.

“Did I impress you?” he asked, flashing that irresistible grin of his.

***

“You definitely did,” Reid murmured to himself in his bedroom.

Reid looked at the partition for a few seconds, then he removed it, tossing it to the side. Then
he lay down, facing the wall. And he waited for Morgan to come.

Reid imagined Morgan coming into the room quietly, careful not to wake him. Morgan would
get on the bed, causing it to creak a little. Then he would notice the missing partition. After a
moment of hesitation, he would hold Reid from behind. The strong arms and chest Reid saw
today would envelop him completely. The man would press his body against his as he
squeezes him. Then he would slip his hand under Reid’s shirt and start to rub his abdomen
gently. Then the hand would move up to his chest… Touch me more. Touch me everywhere
Morgan.

Reid sighed deeply.

I better put the partition back.

Just then, he heard the click of the door key. Reid froze. Too late. Reid decided to pretend to
sleep.

When Morgan entered the bedroom, he noticed that the usual blanket Reid used as a partition
was missing. “Did he forget it…?” Morgan glanced at Reid’s back, who was clearly
pretending to be asleep.

“Reid. Stop trying to seduce me like that.”

“Did you catch me?” Reid said without turning around.

“Yep. You’re caught.”

Reid slowly sat up and put the partition back in place. Morgan chuckled at Reid’s sulky
expression.

The room fell into a silence, as if they could hear each other’s heartbeats. Morgan sighed and
said, “It seems a bit risky tonight, so I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

He gave Reid a gentle pat on the head before leaving the bedroom.

Reid squeezed his eyes shut and let out a hot sigh.
 Free
Chapter Summary

“You don’t hold any obligations to me. You can date anyone you want. You’re free.”

Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 4, Episode 5.

【Please leave comments under your favorite chapter! Your feedback is my

motivation♡】

It was Saturday morning, the day Morgan had to return the key. Throughout the week,
Morgan had left early, careful not to wake Reid. But today, he decided to stay and make
breakfast.

As Reid stirred awake, the enticing aromas of coffee and pancakes filled the air. He peeked
into the kitchen and saw Morgan busy at the stove.

“What are you... what are you doing?” Reid asked, still groggy.

Morgan glanced over and smiled warmly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Reid took a seat at the table, eyes widening at the spread: plates piled with pancakes, bowls
of salad, crispy bacon, and fluffy eggs.

“Wow...” Reid murmured, impressed.

“I just wanted to thank you for letting me borrow your key. It’s been a week,” Morgan said,
nodding toward the spare key resting on the table.

Morgan took a seat across from Reid, a warm smile on his face.

Reid raised his eyebrows playfully. “I feel like we’re a newlywed couple,” he teased,
watching as Morgan flushed.

Although they’d shared countless meals at Reid’s apartment, today felt different. This was the
first breakfast Morgan had cooked, and the first since they had acknowledged their mutual
attraction.
“This is good,” Reid said, taking a bite of the pancake. Morgan, on the other hand, found
himself too fluttery to eat much.

“Reid, do you have any plans today?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Reid replied.

“Could I take you out? Your birthday is coming up in a few days.”

Reid’s smile broadened. “Okay.”

***

Morgan and Reid arrived at Six Flags America in Bowie, Maryland, just outside Washington,
D.C. It was a cool autumn afternoon, with the sky a mix of gold and orange as the leaves
danced in the breeze. Reid’s excitement was palpable as he walked with a light step, his eyes
twinkling with anticipation. He loved Halloween—everything about it, from the spooky
decorations to the eerie music that filled the air. Morgan, on the other hand, was a little
apprehensive but more than happy to support Reid’s enthusiasm. It was for Reid’s 27th
birthday, and Morgan was eager to make the day special, even if Halloween wasn’t exactly
his favorite.

As they walked through the entrance, Reid’s face lit up with glee. “Look at all the
decorations! Aren’t they amazing?” he asked, his excitement practically bubbling over.

Morgan smiled, his affection for Reid evident despite his slight unease. “Yeah, they’re really
cool. Let’s check out the haunted house first. I heard it’s one of the scariest.”

Reid’s eyes widened with delight. “Great! I’m so ready for this!” As they made their way
toward the haunted house, their hands brushed together. Morgan shyly took Reid’s hand, and
both felt a warm flutter at the touch.

The haunted house was designed to look like an old, dilapidated mansion, complete with
creaky floors and cobwebs. As they entered, the dim lighting and eerie sounds created an
atmosphere of suspense. Morgan squeezed Reid’s hand a little tighter, his nerves evident
despite his attempt to look brave.

As they moved through the dark corridors, eerie shadows danced on the walls. A sudden
scream from behind them made Morgan jump. Reflexively, he reached for his gun, his work
habits kicking in as he prepared to protect Reid from the approaching “ghosts” of the haunted
house. The sight of Morgan’s serious expression and his hand on his gun caused Reid to burst
into laughter. It was rare to see Reid laugh out loud like this, showing his white teeth.

“Morgan,” Reid laughed, “You’re such a dork!”

Morgan’s face flushed with embarrassment as he realized how he must have looked. “I guess
old habits die hard,” he said sheepishly, but he couldn’t help but smile at Reid’s infectious
laughter.
They continued through the haunted house, their shared laughter helping to ease the tension.
By the time they emerged into the daylight, Morgan was noticeably more relaxed, though he
looked a bit tired.

Reid suggested, “How about we take a break? I saw a café nearby. We can get some hot
coffee and just relax for a bit.”

Morgan’s face brightened at the thought. “That sounds perfect.”

They found the café, which was also fully decorated for Halloween. It was rather crowded,
but they managed to find a corner table with a view of the park. Reid’s cheeks were still
flushed with excitement as he sipped his hot coffee, while Morgan leaned back in his chair,
grateful for the chance to unwind.

“I didn’t know you preferred Mozart,” Morgan said suddenly.

“What?” Reid asked, puzzled.

“You told JJ you preferred Mozart over Beethoven right in front of me.”

“Yeah. Why not?” Reid replied.

“Never mind,” Morgan smiled.

Reid often missed subtle social cues, such as when it was inappropriate to mention his
preference for Mozart to someone who had given him a Beethoven ticket. But Morgan found
this aspect of Reid endearing.

“I’ll take you to a Mozart concert next year, then.”

“Oh! I want to see Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony!”

Reid suddenly became excited. “It’s renowned for its use of counterpoint and thematic
development. The final movement, in particular, is a tour de force of contrapuntal writing,
incorporating multiple themes that are interwoven in a fugal passage, demonstrating Mozart's
mastery of complex musical forms.”

He noticed Morgan’s expression of “oh no, here he goes again,” and stopped.

Reid composed himself and said, “It’s been a year since you took me to Beethoven’s Ninth
Symphony.”

“Yep. One whole year.”

“Wow...”

Suddenly, Reid felt emotional. The man sitting right in front of him had been his rock, always
committed to being there for him.

“Thank you, Morgan.”

“You’re welcome.”

Reid, as if struck by a new idea, said, “Maybe I’ll take you to a Mozart concert. I never get to
celebrate your birthday since you always go back to Chicago the first weekend of June.”

“My mom and sisters... they wouldn’t let me skip the tradition. They have to celebrate my
birthday together. You could take me a week before or after,” Morgan chuckled.

“Okay,” Reid smiled.

As they left the café, the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the park. They enjoyed
the rest of their evening, riding a few attractions, sharing a funnel cake, and laughing at each
other’s jokes.

As it started getting dark, the colorful lights of Fright Fest illuminated their path. Using the
moment when their hands naturally touched as a signal, they held hands again.

***

Morgan’s happy mood continued. He enjoyed working closely with Reid and was happy that
they sometimes saw each other after work, like they used to. They called each other too.
Now, he didn’t have to wonder what Reid was thinking—they both knew they were attracted
to each other. It felt safer to express his affection, though he was constantly battling the urge
to get physical with Reid.

Sometimes he wondered why he was suppressing his desires. Why couldn’t he just act on
them? Why couldn’t he own the spare key, come home to Reid every day, be intimate with
him in bed each evening, kiss all of him, love all of him, and prepare breakfast for him each
morning?

However, there were times when he had to remind himself to calm down, step back, and
recognize the risks of crossing that line.

Today was one of those days.

JJ, Emily, Reid, and Morgan were going through the case files.

“He’s kicking a lot today,” JJ said with a laugh, gently stroking her growing belly.

Reid, sitting next to her, said matter-of-factly, “In the third trimester, there’s an average of 30
fetal movements per hour. Babies kick to explore movement and strengthen muscle.”

“Have you ever actually felt a baby kick?” JJ asked Reid.

“No.”

JJ took Reid’s hand and placed it on her belly. “You feel that?”

Reid’s eyes widened as he felt something moving inside JJ.

Reid frowned and asked, “Does it freak you out?”

“No, not at all. Why? Does it freak you out?”

“Very much so,” Reid admitted, looking frightened.

JJ and Morgan giggled.

Emily watched the scene, recalling what Morgan had said to her five months ago at a bar.

“I want to see him as a father, raising a little genius,” Morgan had said with a grin. “I have a
hunch he’d be an excellent dad.”

Emily turned to Reid. “Are you considering it?”

“Considering what?”

“Having baby geniuses one day?”

Everyone looked at Reid, who appeared startled by the unexpected question. His gaze drifted
momentarily as if lost in thought. But before he could respond, the phone rang.

Days like this plagued Morgan. He had to ask himself, Am I giving Reid enough space so he
could explore relationships, explore his sexuality, think about the possibilities of starting a
family, having children....and the answer was clearly no. He felt the attraction that's pulling
them together was so strong to resist.

***

After work, Morgan took Reid to Sam’s Inn, their favorite diner near the BAU for dinner.

“Are you considering?” he echoed Emily’s question.

Reid raised his eyebrows. “Having children?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe...” Reid answered uncertainly, a hint of discomfort in his voice.

“Reid...,” Morgan looked at Reid and spoke quietly. “I want you to explore relationships. I
just want to make it clear that you don’t hold any obligations to me. You can date anyone you
want. We’re not dating. We’re not committed. You’re free.”

Reid’s beautiful hazel eyes met Morgan’s, making him feel suddenly nervous.

“I’ll tell you the same, Morgan. You don’t hold any obligations to me. You can date anyone
you want. You’re free,” Reid said.

“Mm-hmm,” Morgan replied unenthusiastically.

“How about you? Are you considering raising little Derek Juniors?” Reid asked, a playful
grin on his face.

Morgan chuckled at the way Reid put it. But he realized he had been so focused on Reid’s
future that he hadn’t considered his own.

“It would be nice, I think,” Morgan said after a moment of thought.

“You’re a born protector. You should have a lot of children,” Reid replied, still grinning.

Morgan smiled at Reid. For a brief moment, he imagined a future where he and Reid were
older, sitting together with their wives, watching his children and Reid’s children play
together. He envisioned their families gathered, laughing and sharing joyful moments. The
thought of being with Reid that way was both comforting and tinged with melancholy.
 Nightmares
Chapter Summary

“Reid! Reid! Wake up! It's Morgan!”

Morgan shook his friend.

Reid’s eyes flew open, his arms stiff and trembling.

Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 6.

It's November 2008. Reid is 27, Morgan is 35.

The BAU team settled into the private jet, en route to Las Vegas, Nevada.

Rossi signaled JJ to pause the briefing, nodding toward Reid, who was dozing in his seat.

“Reid. Reid.” Hotch called gently.

Startled, Reid blinked awake. “Sorry, I was dreaming.”

“Ha, no kidding,” Emily chuckled.

As he sat up, Reid recounted his dream. “We found a 6-year-old boy who had been abused
and stabbed.” He glanced at JJ. “Your baby was at the crime scene. I was trying to get him
out of there.”

The team exchanged uneasy looks. Normally, it would be offensive to mention a pregnant
woman’s baby in such a context, but they all knew Reid well enough to let it slide.

“Sorry,” Reid mumbled, realizing his misstep.

“It’s okay,” JJ smiled.

“You know, Reid, simple dream analysis...If there's a baby in your dreams, that baby's
actually you,” Morgan remarked, a playful glint in his eye.

“I don’t believe in dream analysis,” Reid replied, still unsettled by the dream.
“Maybe it makes sense,” Hotch chimed in softly. “The case we're working on and the case in
your dream both involve children. Maybe your subconscious is telling you you want to sit
this one out.”

“I don’t,” Reid frowned.

“Well, maybe you're just stressed out about going home to Las Vegas. Did you tell your mom
you're coming?” Emily suggested.

Reid was getting annoyed by everyone’s analysis. “Why aren’t we reviewing the case file?”

“I don't know. Maybe because someone fell asleep on the jet,” Emily teased, grinning.

“Alright, let’s start from the beginning,” Hotch said, and JJ handed a photo of a boy to Emily.

“This is Ethan Hayes. He was five. Two weeks ago, he was abducted out of his own front
yard. Police found his body exactly one week later in the desert. No sign of sexual assault.”

The team learned that there was another kid, Michael Bridges, who went missing.

***

Morgan and Reid arrived at the morgue to speak with the medical examiner about Ethan’s
cause of death. The medical examiner said this case was strange. Ethan was noticeably thin,
and his stomach and intestines were completely empty. It was evident he had been starved,
yet there were no signs of malnutrition.

“He was getting nutrients somehow,” Reid said, his brow furrowing.

“Through an IV?” Morgan suggested.

The medical examiner shook his head. “There were no marks to indicate that.”

Morgan and Reid exchanged a glance.

***

Hotch assigned Morgan and Reid to keep watch over the parents of Michael, the missing boy.
They drove to the Bridges’ home, where JJ introduced them.

“These are Agents Morgan and Reid. They'll be here all night in case the suspect calls back.”

Mrs. Bridges, her face drawn with exhaustion, said, “We need to rest.”

“Of course,” JJ replied, nodding understandingly.

The couple went upstairs, while Hotch and JJ left, leaving Morgan and Reid in the living
room.

“Reid, try to rest a bit. You look exhausted,” Morgan said.

“I’m not sleepy,” Reid protested.

“Just close your eyes. I’ll turn off the light.”

“Okay.”

Morgan settled onto the other couch. After a while, he could hear Reid’s steady breathing,
and he felt a sense of ease wash over him, eventually drifting off to sleep himself.

Suddenly, he was jolted awake by Reid’s frantic voice.

“Get 'em off... M... Morgan! Get 'em off me!!”

Morgan’s heart raced as he jumped up and turned on the table lamp.

“Get 'em off me! Morgan!! Morgan! Get 'em off me!! Get 'em off me! Get 'em...Morgan! get
'em off me!”

Reid screamed in his sleep, scratching at his chest.

“Reid! Reid! Wake up! It's Morgan!”

Morgan shook his friend.

Reid’s eyes flew open, his arms stiff and trembling.

The commotion roused the couple upstairs. Mr. Bridges appeared at the top of the staircase,
demanding, “What the hell is going on?”

Morgan quickly approached them, apologizing. “Sir, ma’am. I’m sorry. Everything’s okay.”

“You wake us up screaming, and you think everything’s okay?” Mr. Bridges shot back,
irritation evident in his voice.

“I understand we startled you, and I’m truly sorry for that,” Morgan apologized again.

“You’re the FBI,” Mr. Bridges said, still frustrated.

Reid stood up. “You’re right. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

He raked his hands through his hair, trying to gather himself.

“Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. Everything is fine, I promise you that. I
am sorry for the disturbance,” Morgan said softly. The couple exchanged worried glances but
slowly returned upstairs.

Morgan faced Reid, concern etched on his features.

“I’m making everything worse,” Reid muttered, rubbing his face.

“Reid...These cases get to all of us,” Morgan said gently.

“I’m losing it in their living room. I’m dreaming… dreaming about dead kids.”

“What the hell is scaring you?” Morgan asked, leaning closer.

“This boy's gonna die and there's nothing I can do to stop it.”

“What happened in your dream? You were calling my name.”

“It was the same dream. I found a dead boy in the basement. Then I was covered in leeches. I
wanted you to get them off me.” Reid grimaced, the memory vivid. He fumbled with his
shirt, making sure there was nothing on his body.

“Leeches?” Morgan echoed.

“Yeah.”

“You wanted me to get the leeches off you?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan exhaled slowly. “Reid, come here.”

He pulled Reid into an embrace, stroking his back. “There are no leeches, and I’m right here.
But if you ever do find yourself covered in leeches, I promise I’ll get them off you
completely.”

Morgan waited until Reid’s body released its stiffness and finally relaxed. Reid’s neck was
slightly damp with sweat. Morgan blew gently onto his neck, letting his fingers run through
Reid’s soft hair. Reid sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of Morgan’s chest and the
comforting weight of his hand on his back. This was where he felt the safest.

“I’m sorry,” Reid mumbled, pulling away. He adjusted his shirt and tie.

“I’ll stay right beside you,” Morgan whispered, holding Reid’s hand.

“No, Morgan, it’s okay. We’re supposed to be the night watch for the parents. I need to pull
myself together.” Reid said, with a sense of determination in his voice. “You’re only two
meters away anyway.”

“Alright,” Morgan replied, settling back onto the other couch, keeping a watchful eye on his
friend.

***

The team prepared to attend the funeral of Ethan Hayes, their first victim, suspecting the
unsub might show up.

Hotch arrived at the Bridges to pick up Morgan and Reid.

Morgan slipped on a black coat, exhaling deeply.

“Where’s Reid?” Hotch asked.

“He’s in Michael’s room. I’ll get him.”

Morgan found Reid scanning the room.

“Hey, kid, we’re almost ready to go,” Morgan said softly.

“You know, they’re right,” Reid replied. “Odds are we’ll catch the unsub when he dumps the
body or tries to snatch another kid.”

Reid spoke in a calm, detached manner, but Morgan sensed an undercurrent of frustration in
his words.

“I know the odds, Reid.”

“It’s weird. Some things never go away. When I was a kid, every boy I knew had piles of
dinosaur toys.”

“Not you?”

“I had books and notebooks. My mom filled hundreds of them with poems by W.S. Merwin
and songs by Bob Dylan. She liked it when I memorized them, convinced that they were
watching us and writing songs about our lives.”

Reid spoke almost as if to himself, pacing the room. Morgan listened closely, unsure where
the conversation was heading. When Reid talked about his childhood, he seemed to distance
himself from Morgan. Each time he did, Morgan felt an urge to reach out and pull him close.

“Basements are the first part of a house to be built, right?” Reid suddenly turned to Morgan.
“So if you’re having recurring dreams about a basement, it kind of speaks to the core
fundamentals of who you are.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dream analysis.”

“Freud’s been discredited, but Jung still has his merits,” Reid replied, then frowned. “My
dream. The dead boy. I’ve been having different versions of it since I was a kid.”

“Reid…” Morgan walked to his side and gently placed his hand on Reid’s arm, concern
evident in his voice. “Nobody would think less of you if you took a little time off to get your
head together.”

“I just want to find this boy,” Reid said, staring blankly into space as he left the room, leaving
Morgan behind.

***

The team listened intently as the unsub called Mrs. Bridges for the third time.
Once the call ended, Reid spoke up. “I don’t think it’s a man. Did you hear how she described
the clothing? She mentioned the blue shoes and the lime green oxford. A male wouldn’t
reference those specific details.”

Morgan backed up Reid’s theory. “I think Reid’s right. She talked about what the child
wanted, how he slept, and how she cared for him. She said, ‘I loved him.’”

Reid continued, “A male unsub would have focused on competition, not caregiving. He
would have bragged about being smarter than the FBI, about not getting caught.”

Suddenly, Reid looked up at his team members with a surprised expression, as if a sudden
realization had struck him. “I think I know why the medical examiner was so confused. She
was breastfeeding the victims.”

With this new profile, it was easier to identify the unsub.

Garcia found the woman: Claire Bates. She had been institutionalized three years ago and had
a baby three weeks prior, but social services had taken the child from her.

The BAU drove out to her home and found her in the yard. While the rest of the team spoke
to Claire, reassuring her that her baby was not dead, Reid searched the house and discovered
Michael in one of the rooms. When Michael saw Reid, the five-year-old somehow
understood he was being rescued. He ran to Reid, who enveloped him in a tight and warm
hug.

***

The team watched as Michael reunited with his parents, tears in their eyes. Once the family
left with the local officers, the team prepared to leave the scene.

Morgan noticed Reid standing with a tense expression. He approached and gently placed a
hand on his shoulder.

“Reid, we found Michael. This is about as good a day as we’re going to get in this job, you
know.”

“I know.”

“What’s still bothering you?”

“The dreams… the basement and the boy… they feel so real.”

“Reid, you have a photographic memory. Odds are, you saw the story somewhere, and for
some reason, that case has stuck in your mind all these years.”

“I want to investigate past cases in Las Vegas.” Reid said, looking straight ahead.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll help you.” Morgan said. Reid looked at his friend but didn't protest.

When Hotch approached, Reid asked, “Hotch, do you think it would be possible to wait until
tomorrow to return home?”
 Closure
Chapter Summary

“Spencer,” Aidan said, placing a hand on Reid’s shoulder, “Jake Garrison contacted me
the other day.”

Reid stiffened. “Jake Garrison? Why?”

Chapter Notes

This story is set between Season 4, Episode 6 and Episode 7.

It's November 2008. Reid is 27, Morgan is 35.

Morgan and Reid headed straight back to the Las Vegas Police Department while the rest of
the team went out for dinner at a sushi bar.

“Actually, I want to meet someone before we start the investigation,” Reid said.

“Okay. Who is it?” Morgan asked, intrigued.

“Aidan.”

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Aidan? The Aidan who rescued you from bullying?”

“He works here,” Reid said, as he approached the reception area. “Is uh...Sergeant Han here
today?”

“Let me check,” the assistant replied with a smile. “He’s on the fifth floor.”

“Thanks.” Reid glanced at Morgan, who was still processing the revelation. “Are you
coming?”

“Sure,” Morgan replied, very curious to meet Aidan.

“Aidan Han, huh? Korean American?” Morgan asked casually, trying to regain his
composure.

“Yeah. His father is Korean, his mother is Japanese.”

“I didn’t know he was a police officer.”

“He’s a school resource officer,” Reid explained.

“SRO? So he handles school safety, substance abuse, and bullying...?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid nodded fondly. “He was promoted to Sergeant last year, so he’s not
stationed in schools as often anymore. Now he takes on more of uh...supervisory role.”

Morgan sensed a pride in Reid’s voice.

The elevator dinged as they reached the fifth floor. The sign read: Youth Services
Unit/School Safety Division.

“Did he choose his career because of you?” Morgan asked with a little hesitation.

“Yes.” Reid replied, slightly blushing.

“Aidan.”

“Spencer!” They embraced quickly, the connection evident.

“So good to see you! You haven’t changed,” Aidan said, warmth in his voice.

“I’m not growing any taller, rest assured,” Reid replied, making Aidan laugh.

“Not worried about your height anymore, okay?” Aidan patted Reid on the head. “Did you
see your mother?”

Aidan then noticed Morgan. “Oh, you have company! My apologies.”

Aidan extended his hand to Morgan, smiling. “Aidan.”

“Derek,” Morgan replied, returning the smile.

“Do you work in the BAU too?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

“Oh, I visited there with my family once...” Aidan chatted about Chicago for a bit, his
demeanor warm and inviting. Morgan found himself bewildered by Aidan's tall, good-
looking presence, radiating a genuine nice-guy vibe.

After a little while, Aidan turned to Reid. “Uh, Spencer, can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.”

Aidan apologized to Morgan before taking Reid aside.

Morgan watched them talk from a distance.

“Spencer,” Aidan said, placing a hand on Reid’s shoulder, “Jake Garrison contacted me the
other day.”

Reid stiffened. “Jake Garrison? Why?”

“He’s a mechanic now and still lives in the same neighborhood. He found out I was a police
officer and wanted to get in touch.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“He wants to meet you.”

“Why?” Reid's face tightened.

“I think he wants to apologize.”

“... Wow,” Reid exhaled.

“Spencer,” Aidan took Reid’s hand, looking him in the eye. “You don’t have to meet him if
you don’t want to. But I think it might be good for you… for closure.”

With his other hand, Aidan gently touched Reid’s cheek. Morgan’s eyes widened at the
intimate gesture.

“I’ll be with you,” Aidan assured him.

Reid nodded. “Okay.”

Reid nervously waited while Aidan made a quick call to Jake. After the call, Aidan said,

“He said he could head over right now. He feels bad about asking you to set aside time for
him later.”

Aidan arranged for them to meet at a café nearby. Reid walked over to Morgan.

“Morgan, I’m going to the café with Aidan. Can you wait here, or would you prefer to head
back to the hotel?”

“I can wait,” Morgan replied.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, sensing Reid’s anxiety.

“Yeah,” Reid said, though his eyes betrayed his apprehension as he and Aidan left the
building. Aidan’s hand rested reassuringly on Reid’s back, making Morgan frown slightly.
At the café, Reid and Aidan waited anxiously. Aidan watched Reid’s pale face, silently
hoping this meeting would bring him peace. He placed his hand on Reid’s shoulder again,
offering silent support.

After a short while, Jake arrived.

“Jake! Over here.” Aidan called.

Jake recognized them, thanking Aidan before turning to Reid. Dressed in a polo shirt and
jeans, Jake was still well-built, reminiscent of the football player he had once been. His beard
softened his features, giving him a warmer appearance.

“Hi, Spencer. It’s been a… while,” Jake said, his tone awkward.

“Hi. It’s been 15 years.”

“Yeah… I heard you’re an FBI agent.”

“Yes.”

Jake cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I
know I don’t deserve your time.”

Reid swallowed, unsure of what to say. Aidan took Reid’s hand under the table, giving it a
gentle squeeze.

Jake furrowd his eyebrows deeply, and began, “I uh...I've been wanting to apologize to you
for a long time for... what I had done to you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but…”
Jake’s voice faltered as he looked at Reid, his eyes reflecting deep remorse.

“I’m a father now. My son is five, and ever since he was born, I’ve thought about what I did
to you—and I think...what if someone did that to him? And I just...”

Tears rolled down Jake’s cheeks. “Excuse me,” he wiped them away hastily.

“I… regret it,” he said, looking Reid in the eye. “Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

Reid regarded Jake with warmth. “Thank you. I forgive you.” The sincerity in his voice was
clear, and he smiled.

Jake nodded, wiping his tears again. “Thank you,” he said, and then he turned to Aidan.
“Thanks, man.”

They shared a few updates about their lives before deciding to leave. After they said bye to
Jake outside the cafe, Aidan took Reid’s hand.

“Spencer, I’m so proud of you.”

“Why are you crying?” Reid chuckled, glancing at Aidan.

“Sorry. I’m just getting old,” Aidan said, wiping his eyes. Reid chuckled again.

Aidan embraced Reid, stroking his hair. Reid felt a comforting sense of safety, like a child.

“How do you feel, Spencer? Are you okay?”

“I feel good. I’m glad I met him,” Reid replied.

Aidan nodded, squeezing Reid again. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Alright, let’s head back. Your friend is waiting for you.”

***

After touring the Las Vegas Police Department alone, Morgan stepped outside, feeling
restless. The café where Reid and Aidan had gone was just across the street from the station’s
main entrance.

As he glanced toward the café, he spotted Reid and Aidan talking. His heart skipped a beat.
They were holding hands. Morgan’s pulse quickened as he saw Reid chuckle at Aidan, Aidan
said something to him, and then they embraced. Aidan gently stroked Reid’s hair, their
conversation shifting to something serious. Reid nodded with a soft smile, and Aidan smiled
back, pulling him into another hug. After a moment, they began walking in Morgan’s
direction.

A wave of unease washed over him. He felt like he had stumbled upon something private,
and his heart sank. Lacking the courage to confront them right away, he decided to pretend
he’d been at the café inside the station.

When Reid’s voice came through on the phone, it sounded casual. “Morgan, I’m back at the
station. Where are you?”

“I’m in the café on the third floor.”

“Okay. I’ll head over now.”

“Hey, sorry I kept you waiting,” Reid said when he arrived.

“It’s okay,” Morgan replied, doing his best to sound normal.

After getting permission from the local police to access the special investigations floor, they
collected two boxes filled with past case files and returned to their hotel, each carrying a box
to their respective rooms. Reid mentioned he’d come by later.

Once inside his hotel room, Morgan pushed aside his earlier feelings and opened the first file,
trying to focus on the investigation. Time slipped by until a knock at the door interrupted
him. He opened it to find Reid holding a takeout bag of Chinese food and several case files.

“Can I work with you? I brought dinner.”

“Yeah.”

Reid raised an eyebrow slightly at Morgan’s sullen expression, but sat down and began to
look through the files.

“How was it?” Morgan asked, still standing.

“What?”

“Your time with Aidan.”

“It was normal,” Reid answered without making eye contact. Morgan’s heart began to race
again. Reid was engrossed in the case files, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s discomfort.

“Did you kiss Aidan?”

“What?” Reid looked surprised at Morgan, thinking he was joking, but Morgan’s expression
was serious.

Unable to hold back, Morgan blurted out, “I saw you two holding hands. You seem to hold
hands with anyone. I saw you two hugging too.”

Reid stared at Morgan, shocked, mouth agape.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to hide it.”

“I’m not hiding anything! We held hands and hugged; so what? It’s none of your business.”

Reid snapped back fiercely, causing Morgan to falter.

“I was meeting Jake, who used to bully me. Aidan was just supporting me emotionally by
holding my hand. What did you think? Aidan has a beloved wife and children!” Reid pressed
on angrily.

Morgan refused to back down.

“It’s strange for him to touch your cheek and hug you like that if he loves his wife and kids.
You two didn’t look like just friends to me.”

With those words, Reid, outraged, suddenly stood up and pushed Morgan hard in the chest.
Morgan staggered back, caught off guard.

“Don’t ever speak about Aidan like that again! What gives you the right to follow me and
insult my friend like that?”
Seeing Reid so furious was a shock. Morgan’s own emotions surged, and he yelled back,
“You know what, I'm tired of being emotionally tossed around by you! Don’t come to me
only when things are tough! Next time something happens, go to your precious Aidan!”

With that, Morgan snatched the room key and stormed out, leaving Reid trembling with anger
and disbelief.

***

Morgan was flustered and distressed by his own reaction. What had gotten into him? To feel
such intense jealousy—enough to lose control—was unsettling. He rubbed his face and
sighed. Jealousy was an emotion he rarely faced; he was confident enough not to let it
consume him.

Morgan sighed again.

He needed to apologize. But judging by Reid’s reaction, he was still furious. And seeing
Reid’s face would likely remind him of Reid hugging Aidan again, and he might say
something he’d regret.

Morgan returned to his room, dejected. Obviously Reid was no longer there, and the
unopened takeout bag lay on the table. Morgan decided to immerse himself in the case files
for a while. Surely Reid would be doing the same. For a profiler, thinking about cases was the
best way to forget everything else and focus.

After a few hours, Morgan found a case that piqued his interest. It was an incident that
occurred within walking distance of the house where Reid used to live. Morgan spread out
the documents and started to take notes, sorting out the information.

Just then, he heard a knock at the door. Morgan panicked, unprepared to meet Reid. When he
opened the door, Reid didn’t look at Morgan’s face but said he had finished reading all his
box’s contents and was there to pick up the other box. He silently lifted the box, trying to
leave the room.

Then Reid noticed Morgan had been focused on one particular file, spreading out the
documents and his notes were scattered around too.

“Did you find something?” Reid asked hesitantly.

“The name Riley Jenkins mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Think. Back to when you were a little boy.”

“I had an imaginary friend named Riley when I was little.” Reid looked at Morgan.

“Riley Jenkins. He was murdered right here in Las Vegas when he was 6 years old. My math
says that you would have been around 4 at the time.” Morgan told Reid, his expression
concerned.
Morgan continued, “He was found in the basement of his own house, behind the dryer. He'd
been sexually abused and stabbed.”
 Father(1)
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 7. It's November 2008. Reid is
27, Morgan is 35.

Reid descended the creaking stairs to the basement, a familiar dread washing over him. It’s
this dream again. Since arriving in Las Vegas, he’d been haunted by the same unsettling
vision: a dark underground space, the legs of a boy on the floor partly visible behind the door.
But this time, it was different. A man stood with his back turned.

“Show me your face,” Reid demanded, his gun still aimed. Slowly, the man turned around.

“Dad.”

Reid woke up with a gasp. He was drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

“Morgan. Morgan?”

After calling out the name, he realized Morgan wasn’t in the same room. They had fought
yesterday over Aidan.

He sighed as he looked at the file on the table. Nothing had been resolved yet. Would he be
able to stay in Las Vegas for a few more days?

***

Reid spotted the team in the hotel lobby.

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”

“Hotch is already at the airstrip. How fast can you pack?” JJ asked.

“Actually, I’m going to stay for a couple of more days. I already called Hotch.”

“Is everything all right?” Rossi's brow furrowed with concern.

“Yeah, I just... I haven’t seen my mom in a long time. I’d like a few extra days,” Reid
explained with a forced smile.

“Okay, take the time you need,” Rossi said supportively.

Reid felt Morgan's eyes on him but avoided meeting his gaze.
“Hey, just take care of yourself, okay?” JJ said, with a hint of worry.

“You too. Both of you,” Reid smiled. JJ was almost due.

***

After seeing the team off from the hotel lobby, Reid headed straight to the Las Vegas Police
Department.

“I’d like to see everything you have on the 1984 murder of a boy named Riley Jenkins,” he
requested.

With a new box of information focused solely on the Riley Jenkins case in hand, he returned
to his hotel room, only to find Morgan and Rossi watching TV.

“What are you guys doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane back to D.C.?” Reid
asked, setting the box on the table.

“You’re supposed to be spending time with your mom,” Rossi pointed out.

“Riley Jenkins?” Morgan asked, but Reid didn’t reply.

Noticing the tension, Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Are you two okay?”

“No,” they replied in unison—Reid’s tone sharp, Morgan’s laced with regret.

Rossi held up his hands. “I’ll leave you two to talk it out.” He stepped out of the room.

“I don’t want your help,” Reid said coldly, turning to Morgan.

“Reid... I’m sorry about yesterday.” Morgan rubbed his forehead, searching for the right
words.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” Reid challenged, his gaze steady.

“For... getting upset.”

Reid frowned, unsatisfied.

“I’m sorry I insulted your friend,” Morgan tried again.

“Mm-hmm. And?”

“And...” Morgan struggled to articulate his thoughts.

“You insulted me too, Morgan. You thought I kissed Aidan!”

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t actually think you kissed him.”

“Of course you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why did you ask me if I did?”

“Because I was jealous,” Morgan admitted.

“You can’t be jealous just because I met my friend! What happened to you confidently stating
that I was free?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Reid was ready to accuse him further but hesitated. As he watched Morgan’s genuinely
remorseful expression, his anger began to wane.

“It's okay,” Reid finally said with a sigh.

Eavesdropping just outside the door, Rossi smiled to himself, wishing he’d brought popcorn.

“Are you guys okay now?” he asked, reentering with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Morgan replied awkwardly.

Rossi redirected the conversation back to Reid’s investigation.

“You really don’t need to do this for me,” Reid said.

“I know what this has been doing to you,” Morgan said.

“Let us help. Maybe together we can find out who killed him,” Rossi added.

“I think I might already know,” Reid confessed.

“So tell us about the suspect,” Morgan pressed.

“Truth is, I don’t know anything about him,” Reid said, frowning. “He’s my father.”

“What?” Morgan exclaimed, bewildered.

“Where did you get that idea?” Rossi asked, incredulous.

“My dreams and fragmented memories. My mind is sending me signals. I can’t ignore them
anymore.”

“Reid, your dad left you. If we look at this through a Freudian lens, he might symbolize the
childhood you feel was robbed from you. That could explain why you dream of him as a
murderer,” Morgan explained, trying to make sense of it.

Rossi read the victim's detailed description, shaking his head with a deep sigh before handing
the document to Morgan.

As Morgan read through it, he summarized the situation.

“So, the offender came to the house after Riley arrived home, coaxed him into the basement
where he sexually assaulted him. The boy's mouth was taped shut.”

It was agonizing to read, and he paused midway, frowning deeply. After a moment, he
continued.

“The offender then found a knife in the fishing gear under the stairs, stabbed Riley 9 times in
the chest, and stuffed him behind the washing machine.”

Rossi turned to Reid, who stood pale and staring blankly into the distance.

“Reid, the man we're looking for is a pedophile. Are you sure you want to go down this
road?”

***

Reid visited the institution where his mother, Diana, was staying.

“Mom? Can I ask you something about Dad?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did he like being around children?”

“Well, yes. If it were up to him, you'd have a house full of brothers and sisters.”

“So, you didn’t want more kids?”

“Why mess with perfection?” Diana smiled at him with affection. Reid smiled back; she
always loved him that way, reminding him how special and perfect he was.

“Um, what about other people's children? Was he good with kids?”

“He coached your little league team. He always encouraged you to join normal activities. I
tried to tell him you weren’t normal—you were exceptional.”

Suddenly, a memory flickered in Reid’s mind: he could hear his father’s voice calling out,
“Riley! You’re up next!”

As if triggered, another scene surfaced. He saw his mother standing by the window, tears
streaming down her face as she watched his father burning clothes in the yard.

“Mom, you were there. You watched Dad burn the bloody clothes.”

“What are you talking about, Spencer? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Mom, this wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.”

Diana frowned, suddenly silent, her gaze drifting off.

“Mom?”
“It could have been you,” she murmured, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“What? What did you say?” Reid’s heart raced.

“It could have been you,” she repeated, then fell silent.

Reid stared at her, terror gripping him.

***

When Reid returned to the hotel, night had already fallen.

Rossi, Morgan, and Reid gathered to exchange the information they had gathered that day.

Reid recounted his conversation with his mother. “She said it could have been me,” he said,
his voice trembling with horror.

“She’s not stable, Reid. You can’t put any stock in what she says. I shouldn’t have to tell you
that.”

Suppressing his emotions, Reid explained his theory in a flat voice. “It could be this: my
father redirected his compulsion to molest away from me and onto a surrogate. Mom thought
Riley Jenkins was an imaginary friend because that was her mind’s way of suppressing
memories she didn’t want to face.”

“You’re losing objectivity here, kid,” Morgan cautioned.

Reid snapped back, “I’m not claiming to know exactly what happened, Morgan. But one
thing I am sure of… my dad is involved.”

Rossi watched Reid with deep concern. This case was clearly weighing on him, and Rossi
tried to fathom the turmoil in Reid’s heart. He suspects his father being a pedophile and a
killer. Now he thinks his own father had a desire to molest him, too.

***

Morgan took a shower, hoping to rest, but anxiety kept him from finding peace in his room.
He knocked on Reid’s door, and when it opened, Reid stood there with a pale face.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“No, not really,” Reid replied.

“Can I stay here until you fall asleep?”

“You told me to go to Aidan,” Reid murmured weakly, lacking the strength to argue.

“I’ll take that back.”

Reid silently let Morgan in.

“Haven't you showered yet?” Morgan asked.

“No…” Reid’s gaze was unfocused as he held a document, appearing lost in thought.

Morgan sighed. It reminded him of the times Reid went through drug withdrawal—moments
when he fought his inner turmoil while all Morgan could do was sit by him.

“Reid, why don’t you get ready for bed? You need rest, both physically and mentally. We
have to prepare for tomorrow.”

Reid nodded, then took a shower and changed into dark blue pajama separates.

He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, while Morgan settled onto the sofa, waiting for Reid
to fall asleep.

In the dimly lit room, Reid whispered, his voice barely audible.

“If I confirm that my father was the offender, then I want to die.”

Morgan's eyes shot open as he sat up.

“Reid, don’t say that. Don’t even say that.”

Reid remained silent. Morgan moved closer.

“Reid, sit up. Look at me.”

He pulled Reid’s arm to help him up.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?”

“I meant it.”

Reid's gaze seemed to drift past Morgan, staring blankly into the air.

“He put a tape on a 6-year-old boy’s mouth, raped him, and stubbed him 9 times, and killed
him, Morgan. What kind of monster is he? And I'm his son? I can't live my life like I have
nothing to do with him.”

Reid's voice was dry and raspy.

“I want to die. As part of my atonement to Riley. It still won't be enough.”

“Reid, please. Please don't say that.”

Tears filled Morgan's eyes as he frantically pulled Reid into his chest, desperately repeating,
“Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.”

Reid remained unresponsive, not even returning the embrace.

Morgan felt as if Reid were at the bottom of the darkest pit. He squeezed him tightly, hoping
to convey that he was not alone. If he couldn’t pull Reid out of that pit, at least he wanted to
stay there with him.

After a moment, Reid’s arms moved slowly, finally squeezing Morgan back.
 Father(2)
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 7. It's November 2008. Reid is
27, Morgan is 35.

Rossi, Morgan, and Reid stood at the reception at William Reid’s law firm in Summerlin. As
the minutes passed, it became painfully clear that Reid was extremely nervous. He blinked a
lot and kept swallowing, his anxiety palpable. Morgan took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” Morgan whispered.

Rossi glanced over, noting that Morgan seemed almost as anxious as Reid.

“Yeah, no, I… I’m going to the bathroom,”

“I’ve never seen him this nervous before,” Morgan said, his own unease evident.

“Seventeen years is a long time to go between visits,” Rossi replied.

“Not long enough. The kid's still angry,” Morgan murmured.

Morgan didn’t miss the moment William, Reid's father, looked at Reid. William’s expression
was a mix of surprise and affection. Morgan instinctively exchanged glances with Rossi.
Reid’s heart was closed off right now, so he probably didn’t notice William’s expression. The
warmth emanating from William was completely different from what Morgan had imagined,
leaving him feeling confused.

“Hello, Dad,” Reid said, his voice steady but distant.

“You don’t look like me anymore. You used to. Everyone said so,” William said cheerfully,
attempting to mask his bewilderment.

Reid shot back sarcastically, “They say some people look like their dogs, too. It's attributed to
prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions
of people they've been around their whole life. So it kind of... kind of makes sense that I
wouldn't really look like you. I haven't seen you in 17 years.”

Rossi took a breath, steering the conversation. “We’re investigating the case of Riley Jenkins
from 1984.”

William frowned at the name, his expression hard to read. “I remember Riley Jenkins,” he
said, though the emotion behind it was unclear.
“There are specific criteria we consider when looking at suspects. You fit parts of that
profile,” Rossi explained.

“Me?” William asked, genuinely surprised.

“We just want your cooperation,” Morgan added quietly.

“My cooperat...You're not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins?”

“We didn’t say that,” Reid interjected.

“Good, because that’s absurd,” William said, with frustration in his voice.

“We’d like permission to look through your computer, access your records,” Morgan
continued.

“And what exactly would you be looking for? You want access to my files? Get a warrant,”
William retorted, visibly upset. He glared at the three agents before storming out of the room.

***

Back at the hotel, they talked to Garcia.

“You want me to hack your father's network? Are you sure about this?” Garcia asked, raising
an eyebrow.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that,” Reid replied, a hint of annoyance in his
voice.

“Before I hack into your father's computer, there’s a new name I want to tell you about,”
Garcia continued.

“Gary Brendan Michaels.”

“Who’s that?” Morgan asked.

“A new suspect we found,” Garcia explained. She detailed how Gary Brendan Michaels fit
the profile perfectly—he lived in the same area when Riley was killed and had been arrested
in his youth for lewd behavior and trespassing on a nursery school’s grounds. Later in life, he
was detained again when he exposed himself to a child. Shortly after Riley was killed, Gary
Michaels disappeared from town.

“We should take a closer look at this guy,” Morgan said, sensing a glimmer of hope.

“Garcia, send us a picture of this new suspect.”

The moment Reid saw the man, a memory flashed in his mind. He was sitting in a park chair,
playing chess by himself at the age of four. A man stood in front of him and smiled. “Hey,
you’re pretty good.” He extended his hand, almost touching Reid’s head.
“Spencer!” Diana called from behind, scooping him up in one swift motion. “Do not touch
my son,” she said sternly to the stranger.

***

Morgan and Rossi were feeling more relaxed now. The deeper they dug into the case, the
more it seemed that Gary Michaels was the offender. William Reid was becoming less likely
to be the suspect, but Reid was trying to keep his guard up, not allowing himself to hope too
much in case it led to disappointment.

“Do you still think he did it?” Morgan asked.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Reid replied.

“Well, for one, Gary Michaels fits the profile. For another, he fled town after Riley's murder.”
Morgan's voice was calm. “He’s a better suspect than your dad, Reid.”

“He's a convenient one,” Reid replied without showing any emotions.

Morgan rolled his eyes. Reid was being stubborn.

***

Garcia called while the three agents were chatting in the hotel lobby after returning from the
local police station.

“Talk to me, baby girl.”

“I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I?”

“Can you seriously imagine Reid and me at a strip club?” The thought was so amusing that
Morgan couldn’t help but laugh, but noticing Reid’s icy gaze, he quickly stopped and cleared
his throat.

Garcia chuckled. “No, not really.”

“Let me hear what you’ve got.”

“Reid, we’ve been digging into your father’s business,” Garcia began.

“What did you find?” Reid asked anxiously.

“Well, let me first tell you what I didn’t find. No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit
websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

Reid showed a momentary expression of surprise and relief, then quickly stiffened his face.

“What about his finances?”

Hotch chimed in. “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we could find.
From what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”
Hearing this, Morgan sighed in relief.

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know,” Emily said, her voice tinged
with amusement.

“I’m listening,” Reid replied bluntly, trying to mask his curiosity.

“He’s a workaholic; he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money but
doesn’t spend much. He has a modest house and drives a hybrid. Oh, and according to his
veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

Hotch added, “He spends most of his free time alone, goes to the movies a lot, and reads.
From his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is—”

“Isaac Asimov. I remember that one,” Reid interrupted.

Morgan listened intently; the whole picture sounded like a glimpse of Reid in his fifties. He
glanced at Reid, whose expression had softened.

Garcia piped up again, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he’s
archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”

“What?” Reid asked.

“You, kiddo,” Garcia teased.

“He’s got everything published online—every article you’ve been quoted in, pieces you’ve
written for behavioral science journals. He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

Morgan watched as Reid flustered, taken aback and at a loss for words. Morgan felt warmth
inside and couldn’t help but smile.

“He’s keeping tabs on you. That says something,” Rossi added warmly.

“Yeah, he Googled me. That makes up for everything,” Reid replied bluntly.

Morgan lifted his eyebrows.

“I’m going to get some air.” Reid quickly walked toward the hotel entrance and stepped
outside.

***

The team learned that Gary Michaels was dead, brutally beaten with a bat and labeled as John
Doe in the records. There were fingerprints on his body that had gone unidentified at the
time. However, with new technology, the BAU analyzed the prints and discovered that Lou
Jenkins, Reilly’s father, had killed Gary in an act of revenge.

“Reid, you wanted to know if your father killed Riley. The answer is no. You have what you
need,” Morgan said gently.
“But I still don’t have all the answers. Why was Dad burning clothes in the yard? Why was
Mom crying as she watched? I need to know the whole truth.”

Reid was grappling with his memories of his father. As Emily had once pointed out, he had
erased much of his past with William Reid, and the void haunted him. He needed to
understand the man behind the fragmented memories.

“It’s a simple question. How did the blood get on those clothes?”

“I didn’t kill that boy. Why can’t you believe me?” William’s voice on the phone was
strained.

“I know you didn’t. But I also know you’re hiding something,” Reid replied, tension lacing
his words.

“You’re angry that I left. And you’re right to be.”

“You want to make it up to me? Tell me the truth. Come to the police station.”

William agreed to come in, but no one anticipated that he would bring Diana with him.

“You were burning bloody clothes. I saw you.” Reid wasted no time, then turned to his
mother. “And... you were crying while watching it.”

William and Diana exchanged glances. After a nod from William, Diana began, “I’d seen
Gary Michaels at your ball games and at the park. You used to play chess there, and he
approached you.”

“Did he do something to me?” Reid’s voice cracked with terror.

“Oh, no. God, no. It never got to that point.” Diana shook her head vigorously. “But when I
saw how he looked at you, I knew what he was.”

“So, you told Riley’s dad?”

“Yes. Two nights later, Lou called me, agitated. He said Gary had confessed what he’d done
to his son. Lou took revenge, and I slipped and fell into Gary’s blood.”

Diana shivered as she spoke. William took her hand to comfort her, and continued. “When
she came home, I noticed blood on her shirt. She couldn’t speak at first, but eventually, I
pieced together what had happened.”

“So you never told anyone?”

“No, she could have been implicated. And I had to protect her.”

“You were burning her clothes,” Reid said, realization dawning.

William nodded, “But you can’t burn away the weight of knowing the truth. It changed
everything.”
“Is that why you left?”

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear, but the burden was too heavy.” William’s brow
furrowed as painful memories resurfaced.

“You could have come back. We could have started over,” Reid said, his voice shaky with
emotion.

“I didn’t know how to take care of you anymore. Once I lost that confidence, there was no
going back.”

William gazed at Reid, hurt evident in his expression. “At least now you know the truth.”

“I was wrong about everything. I’m sorry,” Reid said, looking at his father through tear-filled
eyes.

“I’m sorry too, Spencer.”

Before parting, Morgan noticed William pulling Reid aside. They exchanged a few words,
and Reid nodded. Then they embraced.

The three agents spent their last night in Las Vegas, and that evening, a new memory
resurfaced in Reid’s dreams.

Little Spencer lay wide awake in bed, having overheard his parents arguing. Eventually, Dad
came into his room.

“Spencer, I know you’re awake. You can’t fool Daddy, you know?” He gently stroked
Spencer’s hair. “I’m sorry Mommy and Daddy fought today.”

Spencer opened his eyes to meet his father’s gaze.

“Daddy loves you, you know that?”

“I know, Daddy. I love you too.”

 Jealousy
Chapter Notes

This story takes place sometime around Season 4, Episode 5~9.

“So, wait, she knew your name?” Reid asked Morgan curiously.

According to Morgan, a stunning woman he’d met at the café that morning had called him by
his first name, even though it was their first encounter.

“I don't know how I could forget a face like hers,” Morgan said, still puzzled.

Reid smirked, teasing, “You’ve been with so many girls that you can’t remember all their
names?”

“Oh, come on! Are you surprised?” Emily laughed.

“This has never happened to me before.”

“It hasn’t happened to me before either,” Reid said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Well, it can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory,” Emily said as they walked
toward the round table.

Morgan added, “And besides, you only have one name to remember.”

“Ha-ha,” Reid replied with a mock laugh.

“Meet Agent Jordan Todd. She’ll be taking over for JJ while she’s on maternity leave,” Hotch
announced.

Morgan couldn't hide his surprise. It was the woman from the café.

“Agent Morgan. Nice to see you again,” Jordan said, smiling.

Flustered, Morgan managed a smile back. “Nice to see you, too.”

Emily and Reid exchanged knowing glances.

“You two have met?” Emily asked, intrigued.

“Briefly,” Morgan replied coyly.

After the meeting, Reid and Emily followed Morgan.

“So, anything you want to tell us?” Emily teased.

“Nope.”

“Your forehead's sweating,” she pointed out.

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, he’s avoiding eye contact,” she said, enjoying the moment.

“His blink rate just sped up,” Reid added.

“Guys, I’m going out for coffee,” Morgan said, escaping into the elevator.

***

“So... do you like her?” Reid asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

They were walking back to the car after a home investigation.

“Who? Jordan?”

“Mm-hmm. Are you planning to take her out?”

“Nah. She’s beautiful, but I don’t feel anything beyond that.”

“I thought you two were hitting it off,” Reid said with a smirk.

“If I take her out, will you be jealous?” Morgan asked, half-joking but curious.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Reid said, feigning seriousness. “But I wouldn’t ask you if you kissed
her every time you went out.”

“Hey!” Morgan playfully wrapped his arm around Reid’s neck in mock attack. “Don’t bring
that up.”

“Okay, okay!” Reid laughed.

“Seriously though, I’ve seen you make out with girls since I was 22. I wouldn’t feel a thing,”
Reid scoffed.

He realized he couldn’t recall ever feeling jealousy in his life.

“To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that emotion,” Reid admitted.

“That’s what I thought too, until...”

“Las Vegas?”
“Mm-hmm.”

Reid shook his head, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I’m glad you find my jealousy issues so amusing,” Morgan said, rolling his eyes
sarcastically.

***

The BAU team was investigating a series of murders in a small town where young women
were abducted from local clubs and killed.

Hotch assigned Reid and Morgan to visit the clubs, distribute flyers urging patrons to take
precautions, and gather witness information.

Reid's discomfort was evident. “I think I’d prefer just... stay back and, uh, man the tip line
tonight. Clubs aren’t really my thing.”

“Not a chance, kid. I need a wingman. Come on.” Morgan said.

“Last time we went to a club together, it was a disaster.” Reid reminded him.

“That wasn’t a club; it was a gay bar. No need to remind everyone about our undercover
skills,” Morgan said, shooting a glance at Emily and Garcia, who were trying to stifle their
laughter.

“You’ll just be handing out flyers,” Hotch reassured them.

***

At the club, Morgan and Reid worked separately, trying to talk to as many people as possible.

“How are you doing?” Morgan found Reid and asked, noticing he was still holding a stack of
flyers in his hand.

“Not good. I handed my profile to one woman, and she asked if I was the unsub.”

Morgan laughed.

“How are you doing?” Reid asked back.

“Well, I gave out all my flyers.”

Reid turned to Morgan, smirking, “How many phone numbers did you get?”

“None. I’m working a case here, kid,” Morgan replied, trying to look serious.

Reid shot him a look, eyebrow raised.

“Okay, four were offered, but I didn’t take any,” Morgan admitted, and Reid grinned.
“Give me half the flyers. Let’s work together.”

As they walked side by side, Reid teased, “It must be hard to attract girls’ attention just by
walking.”

“You do it too.”

“I don’t.”

Morgan paused, sizing Reid up. “Okay, I’ll prove my point.”

“What point?”

“Your appearance attracts girls.”

Morgan instructed Reid to lean against the wall.

“Ok. Stop clutching the strap of your bag.

Come on, give me the bag.”

Reid hesitated but complied.

“Stop fidgeting,” Morgan said, arms crossed.

“Hmm... something’s off. You’re still fidgety.”

Reid frowned.

“Put your hands in your pockets and zone out, like you sometimes do.”

“How?”

“Relax, lean against the wall, hands in pockets, and recite Isaac Asimov in your head.”

“Which book?”

“Whichever. Just start from Chapter 1. Go.”

Reid frowned again but soon slipped into his thoughts, appearing more relaxed and
intellectual.

Morgan stepped back, surveying him from a distance. Not bad. Reid looked like a model.

A few moments later, a girl approached Reid.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“What? Uh, yeah. Actually, I am.” Pulled from his thoughts, he flustered.

The girl raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Waiting for your friend... or your girlfriend?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Oh... okay.” She left, looking a bit disappointed.

Moments later, another girl approached. Morgan couldn't help but smirk.

“Hi. I’m Sarah.”

“Oh, hi. I’m... Spencer.” Reid stammered.

“Care for a drink?” She offered him a shot.

“Um, thank you, but I don't... I can’t drink. Sorry.” Reid forced a smile, and sighed.

Then two more women approached.

“Hey, do you want to sit with us?”

“I’m, uh, waiting for someone, actually.”

One of the women touched Reid’s tie. “You could sit and wait.”

“Uh...”

Reid glanced at Morgan, clearly seeking help.

“Ladies,” Morgan interjected, stepping in, “Excuse my boyfriend.” He wrapped an arm

around Reid’s shoulder, pulling him away as the girls looked on in surprise.

“All right, let me school you a bit. Here’s what you need to do: take control of the
conversation.”

“How?”

“When you talk, what makes you feel like an expert?” Morgan asked.

“Uh, statistics.”

Morgan shook his head, exasperated. “No, trust me. No. Something else.”

“Well, when I do magic,” Reid offered hesitantly.

Morgan's eyes lit up. “That’s perfect! Chicks dig magic.”

Morgan spotted a bartender they hadn’t approached yet. “Excuse me, sweetheart,” Morgan
said smoothly.

“Hi. What can I get you?” the bartender replied.

Morgan nudged Reid. “Hi. We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for this man. Does he look
familiar?”
Reid held out a composite sketch.

“It’s not much of a picture,” the bartender shrugged.

“I know,” Reid said, “but what might help is...”

Morgan patted Reid’s back and stepped back.

Reid continued, “He has a scar above his eye, right here.” He poked a small hole in the sketch
with a pencil, then carefully pulled it away to reveal the unmarked paper.

“Ha! How’d you do that?” The bartender laughed, impressed.

“Uh, that’s privileged information.” Reid smiled cheekily.

“So what should I do if I see him?”

“You should call us.”

“And if I don’t see him?”

Reid looked perplexed.

“Can I still call you?” she asked, a playful smile on her lips.

“Yeah! Yeah, you can call me,” Reid stammered, surprised. Then he turned to leave.

“Wait! I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, um, it’s behind your barrette.”

She touched behind her barrette and found a card, looking both shocked and delighted.

Morgan strolled back, a wide grin on his face as he put his arm around Reid’s shoulder. “See?
That’s what I’m talking about. That’s called game.”

Reid chuckled.

***

Reid and Emily overheard the playful bickering between Morgan and Jordan for the third
time that week.

“Jordan, are you serious? I’ve been a little busy,” Morgan said, frustration and amusement
mingling in his voice.

“The Chicago PD is waiting for your call. You promised you’d call them personally,” Jordan
replied, rolling her eyes.

“Am I ever going to catch a break with you?” Morgan shook his head, though a smile played
on his lips.
“I can dial the number if you'd like. Aren’t you ‘Supervisory Special Agent Morgan’?”
Jordan teased.

“This is going to be interesting,” Emily smirked, glancing at Reid, expecting to see his usual
amused expression. But his face was glum.

“Yeah,” he replied flatly before walking away.

Reid wasn’t happy. Usually, he was the one bickering with Morgan, the one walking shoulder
to shoulder with him. Now he felt like his place had been taken.

“Reid!” Morgan called, catching up to him. “I’m starving. Want to go to Sam’s for dinner?”

Reid remained silent.

Morgan noticed Reid’s mood shift. “Hey, what’s up?” He gently grabbed Reid’s wrist,
concern replacing his playful demeanor.

“Nothing,” Reid muttered.

“Talk to me. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Morgan sighed. “Can we eat together tonight?”

Reid turned to Morgan, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Why don’t you take Jordan with
you?”

Morgan looked surprised. “Jordan? Why?”

“I think she’d be better company than me right now.”

Reid turned away, sulking.

“Reid, are you jealous?” Morgan asked, startled.

“Jealous? No.” Reid frowned, then looked at Morgan. “Am I?”

Morgan grinned. “I think you are.”

Reid frowned and looked away again.

His expression was so endearing Morgan gently cupped Reid’s face and pressed a kiss on his
cheek. Morgan nearly blurted out "I love you," but managed to hold it back.

“Hey, people might see us.” Reid reminded Morgan they were still at work.

“Can we eat together? I don’t mind that you’re in a bad mood,” Morgan repeated.

“Okay,” Reid finally said, his expression both shy and sulky.
Morgan beamed and pulled Reid into a quick embrace. “Thanks.”
 Christmas2008
Chapter Notes

This story is set between the events of Season 4 Episode 11 and Season 4 Episode 12.
It's December 2008. Reid is 27, Morgan is 35.

In late December, the temperature in Washington, D.C. suddenly dropped below 10 degrees
Celsius. Morgan, who had been wearing T-shirts until last month, had switched to long-
sleeved dress shirts for work, which Reid found very attractive.

“Hey, boy genius.”

Garcia approached Reid from behind.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Doctor. You were looking at the sexy Derek Morgan in his sexy blue dress
shirt.” She whispered the last part.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Listen to me, genius. If you want to seduce him, I have an easy suggestion.”

“Garcia…”

“Kiss his ear. Or better yet, lick it.” She said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Reid made a face, and Garcia chuckled. Then Reid turned to her.

“Actually, the ears are an erogenous zone, which can play a role in sexual arousal, and for
some individuals, stimulating the ears can result in an orgasm. The human ear contains
25,000 nerve endings, which translate sound waves from vibrations into electrical impulses.
The large number of nerve endings makes the ear particularly sensitive, making it
erogenous.”

“Hmm, all of a sudden, it's not sexy anymore.” Garcia patted Reid’s shoulder and left.

***

Morgan walked up to Reid’s desk, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Are you doing anything this Saturday evening?”

“...No.”

“Can I invite you to my house for an early Christmas party?”

“Okay. Who else is coming?”

“Nobody.” Morgan replied, and Reid raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Unless you want to invite more people.”

“No, just us is fine.” Reid pulled his lips to the side, managing a shy smile.

***

Reid parked his car in the driveway and walked up to the door, excitement quickening his
steps. It had been almost a year since he visited Morgan’s house—last December for the
BAU Christmas party and once more in January.

When Reid saw Morgan open the door, his heart skipped a beat. Morgan looked neatly
dressed in a wine-red sweater, a dark gray collared shirt peeking underneath.

“Hey. Come on in,” Morgan said a little coyly. Clooney’s happy bark welcomed Reid.

“Here.” Reid handed Morgan a bottle of wine as he stepped inside. The fact that Morgan had
dressed nicely just for him felt incredibly flattering. Trying to mask his nervousness, he
patted Clooney and glanced around the room. The first thing that caught his eye was the
Christmas tree.

“Wow. German style?”

“Yep. My mom and sisters came and did the decorating this year. Pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Did you know that when German settlers introduced Christmas trees to the United
States, many Puritans opposed them because of their pagan roots? In fact, officials of the
Massachusetts Bay Colony actually outlawed celebrating Christmas. It wasn’t until the 1820s
that Christmas trees began gaining popularity in America.”

“No, I did not know that.”

Reid began examining each ornament, muttering some German words: “Inge-Glas...
Erzgebirge...” while holding his purple scarf close to avoid knocking anything down.

“Reid, let me take your coat and scarf.”

“Oh, uh... thank you.” Reid quickly removed his coat, feeling a bit awkward and blushing. He
wore a simple dark blue sweater that matched well with his slicked-back hair, making him
look extra handsome. Morgan felt butterflies in his stomach.

“These ornaments are beautiful. I want to buy one of those for my mom.”
“You can find them at the German Christmas Market. They do it every winter.”

Morgan started setting the table. As he opened the oven, an enticing aroma of herbs filled the
air.

“Smells amazing. What did you cook?”

“Roast ham. It's our family recipe.”

It had always been the centerpiece of the Morgans’ Christmas dinner—seasoned with herbs
and spices, glazed with honey. His father used to make it, and after he passed, it was handed
down to his mother.

On the table, there were also creamy mashed potatoes served with gravy, green bean
casserole, and roasted vegetables.

“Did you cook all this?” Reid asked, genuinely impressed.

“Yes.”

“How long did it take?”

“Almost all day.”

Morgan had also asked Emily for the recipe and made layered Christmas jello, remembering
how much Reid had liked it at last year’s party.

He handed Reid a glass of wine, and they sat down at the table.

“Can I say grace? My family always does,” Morgan smiled.

“Sure.”

Morgan placed his hand over Reid’s and prayed.

“Father, today we give thanks for all the blessings You have given us. Keep us safe and give
us strength to fight for what is right and good. Prepare our hearts for what’s to come in the
new year. In the name of Your Son, I pray, amen.”
“Amen.”

Morgan smiled at Reid. “Let’s eat.”

“Merry Christmas, Morgan.”
“Merry Christmas.”

The two clinked their wine glasses.

“So? Let me hear that philosophy joke.” Morgan stifled a giggle.

“Rossi told you?” Reid replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Mm-hmm. He was impressed by how you managed to freeze the entire auditorium.”
“That’s why I don’t like going to college campuses. They keep sending me there. I don’t
know why,” Reid complained.

“Because you’re young. You’re only a few years apart from those college students. They
assume college kids can relate to you.” Morgan couldn’t help smirking.

“Rossi says my academic background intimidates the students, and none of my jokes are
funny to them.”

Morgan chuckled. “So let me hear it. I might get it.”

Reid cleared his throat and asked, “How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light
bulb?”

“Hmm.” Morgan thought for a moment before answering. “Just one, but the light bulb has to
want to change.”

Morgan hurriedly added an explanation before Reid could give a mark, “Well, existentialism
emphasizes individual choice and personal agency, right? So, in this case, it suggests that the
light bulb, which represents a person, must desire to change.”

“Not bad.”

“Okay, so what’s the answer?”

“The answer is two. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an
incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness.”

Reid’s eyes twinkled with amusement until Morgan admitted, “I didn’t understand anything
you just said.”

Even after they finished eating, they continued to talk, enjoying their time together.

When Morgan noticed Reid had emptied his wine glass, he took it and offered him water.

Morgan knew Reid didn’t drink much, only occasionally for social reasons. Reid’s face was a
little red, and he blinked frequently, scratching his eyes.

“Hey, pretty boy, do you want to take a break on the couch?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan placed a glass of water on the coffee table and sat next to him on the couch. Reid
stretched his arms and rotated his neck, then pressed his hands around his shoulders.

“Stiff neck?” Morgan asked as he began to massage Reid’s neck.

With Morgan’s warm hands and just the right amount of pressure, Reid murmured, “That
feels good.”
Morgan suddenly realized he was touching the nape of Reid's neck, and he stopped, his heart
racing a little.

Morgan stood up, telling Reid he’d get a pillow for him. When he returned and handed it to
his friend, Morgan sat on the opposite end of the couch. He kept his distance and avoided eye
contact, fearing things might get out of control. Despite Morgan’s heightened vigilance, Reid
felt tipsy and dreamy, gazing at Morgan’s profile.

“Morgan, give me your ear. I want to tell you a secret,” Reid whispered.

Morgan, skeptical yet curious, scooted closer. Without warning, Reid’s delicate hand reached
for Morgan’s neck, gently kissing his ear twice.

“Wha...?!!” Morgan jumped.

Reid laughed. “So it doesn't work for you. You are supposed to feel sexy.”

Morgan looked at his friend in disbelief, his heart pounding.

“Let me guess. Did Garcia put the idea in your head?”

“You guessed it right.”

“I’m gonna spank her,” Morgan said, shaking his head.

“But I knew human ears are erogenous zones for most people.”

Morgan looked at Reid. “How about you?”

“Me? I don’t know. I can’t kiss my own ear, can I?” Reid chuckled.

“You are drunk,” Morgan sighed. But then he glanced at Reid’s slightly flushed profile and
said, “Let’s see...”

Morgan gently grabbed Reid’s head and kissed his ear.

As Morgan’s lips brushed against the delicate curve of Reid’s ear, a shiver raced down his
spine. “Hmm...!” Reid recoiled slightly.

Reids reaction got Morgan excited and he couldn't stop there. He leaned in for more kisses,
causing Reid to gasp. The warmth of Morgan’s breath sent a thrilling jolt through him,
igniting every nerve ending. Reid shut his eyes and moaned. ”Mm...mm...!“

Morgan abruptly pulled himself away from Reid and stood up. Both were panting. Reid
looked truly surprised by his own reaction, staring at Morgan with his mouth half open.
Morgan swallowed. “I, um... I’m going outside to cool off, okay?”

He stepped outside without putting on his jacket.

Reid touched his ear and exhaled. Each kiss felt like a spark that lit his skin aflame. His heart
raced again, the sensation lingering and leaving him breathless, yearning for more.

Reid dropped onto the couch. A sudden drowsiness washed over him, and he dozed off.

When Morgan returned after 15 minutes, he found Reid sleeping on the couch, a lock of hair
covering his face. Morgan gently brushed it aside to reveal his beautiful features. He then
grabbed a blanket from his bedroom and draped it over Reid.

He sat on the floor leaning against the couch. The sensation on his ear returned, making him
flush. He rubbed his face with his hands and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling.

How could I have ever imagined? That I would be so madly attracted to this boy genius? He
remembered the days when Dr. Spencer Reid was just a skinny, awkward, extremely smart
little brother he loved to tease. He recalled the sulky expression on Reid’s face when he put a
whistle around his neck. He also recalled the times Reid left Morgan puzzled with his weird,
lengthy comments.

“Actually, it's more like we're looking for a needle in a pile of needles. A needle would stand
out in a haystack.” The 23-year-old Reid had once said to him in a car, leaving Morgan
confused. Thinking back to that moment, Morgan let out a laugh.

Had he changed? Or had I changed?

Morgan had grown overly protective of Reid since the Tobias Hankle case, but when did it
become so overwhelmingly... He couldn’t quite find the right word.

He turned around and gazed at Reid. I want to feel him close tonight, a voice whispered in his
head. I want to kiss him gently and softly, take off his sweater, lead him to the bed, remove
the rest of his clothes, take off my own, and... I want to feel him—his skin against mine. His
desires threatened to overwhelm him.

After a while, Morgan gently woke him up.

“Reid, are you going to sleep like that?”

“Mmm...”

Reid wrapped his arms around Morgan’s neck and pulled him closer.

“Why don’t you change and sleep in the bed?” Morgan suggested.

“With you?” Reid whispered into Morgan’s ear.

Morgan’s heart began to race again.

“No, no, not with me.”

“I want to sleep with you, Morgan.” Reid whispered again.

“Reid, you’re drunk. Sit up.”

“Ow.” Reid grimaced as he sat up, rubbing his temples. “My head hurts.”

Morgan let him sip some water and helped him stand.

“Agh... so dizzy,” Reid muttered, holding his head.

Morgan helped him get ready for bed and then sent him off to sleep.

***

Reid woke up early the next day. The headache was gone, and after taking a shower, he felt
refreshed. He wrapped a towel around his waist and started brushing his teeth when Morgan
opened the door.

“Whoa. Sorry.” Morgan exclaimed, seeing him in just a towel before hastily closing the door.

Once Reid got dressed, he said to Morgan, “I want to go to the German Christmas Market.
Can you take me?”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Sure.”

“Let’s do the ‘undercover,’” Reid grinned.

“We might run into Hotch again,” Morgan chuckled.

As they stepped into the market, the air was filled with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts
and spiced mulled wine, mingling with the laughter of children and the soft melodies of
carolers. Colorful stalls adorned with twinkling lights and handmade ornaments surrounded
them as they strolled hand in hand, pausing to admire intricately crafted wooden toys and
delicate glass baubles that sparkled like stars.

They spent hours there as a couple, intertwining their fingers, kissing each other’s cheeks,
sharing hot drinks, and gazing into each other’s eyes.

The warmth of the season enveloped them, and as snowflakes began to drift from the sky,
they exchanged smiles, feeling the magic of the holiday season wrap around them like a cozy
blanket.
 Be In Love
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 12. It's January 2009. Reid is 27,
Morgan is 35 years old.

“Are you sure about this? Letting Reid and Morgan handle the love letters together?” Emily
questioned Rossi skeptically.

Right now, Morgan and Reid were immersed in deciphering the cryptic love letters
exchanged between two young male accomplices—one black, one white—who had been
abducting and killing women together. The Florida PD had apprehended the black unsub,
William Harris, but now they needed to identify his white accomplice.

“Morgan and Reid know what they’re doing,” Rossi assured her. “They won’t let their own
experiences cloud their judgment.”

“I really hope so. They can get awkward pretty easily. Remember when we sent them to that
gay bar?”

“Decoding is Reid’s specialty. When he’s in his element, he won’t waver,” Rossi said
confidently.

***

“How did you realize that William’s blog entries were actually correspondence between two
people?” Morgan asked, glancing at the papers pinned to the board, where Reid was working
with red and blue markers.

“I noticed two distinct voices—two different authors. I found various idiosyncratic words,
phrases, punctuation, and orthographic quirks in the entries that were consistent for each
individual. For example, one guy says ‘soda’ while the other says ‘pop.’ One uses dashes,
and the other prefers ellipses. Ha!” Reid scoffed amusingly.

He turned back to the board and murmured sentences he had deciphered from the encrypted
entries.

“You are my soul mate, my heart’s delight.”

“Faith should never be broken.”

Crossing his arms, Reid stared intently at the words.

“Tell me you found his partner,” Morgan said, leaning in from behind Reid, curious if the
genius had uncovered anything crucial that could lead to the other unsub.

“It’s not that easy. Everything is so cryptic,” Reid whispered, squinting at the papers.

Morgan read one of Reid’s decoded sentences aloud. “‘The end of the day came too soon.’
They clearly enjoyed being together.”

He continued, “‘Those first few hours are the best.’” Morgan sighed. “We need to find out
how they met. There must be something in here about their courtship.”

Reid read another line. “‘It all seemed so hopeless, but I finally learned to rise above it.’ It
sounds like William was confessing to feeling incomplete.”

“He was,” Morgan replied. “He didn’t start killing until he met his soul mate.”

Reid scanned the board again. “‘A bond unbroken, my perfect soul mate.’ The longer they
got away with it, the stronger their relationship became.”

Morgan shook his head. “These two weren’t just obsessed with each other. They were
addicted to murder, and their intimacy only escalated their killing.”

“Exactly. Listen to this: ‘I wish time didn’t take away all the pleasures of the day.’ This was
written on the day of the murder.” Reid furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

Emily watched them as they worked on the messages. Arms crossed, they leaned over the
board, often pointing at a particular sentence and discussing it eagerly. When one spoke, the
other listened intently, nodding along, their brows furrowed in concentration.

Rossi was right. Despite the fact that the unsubs were a cross-racial male couple obsessed
with each other, there wasn’t a moment when Morgan and Reid looked awkward. Even when
they leaned in close to the same screen, their focus remained unbroken. Emily felt relieved.

***

Morgan entered the interrogation room while Reid, Emily, and Rossi observed through the
one-way glass. He laid out all the victims' photographs in front of William.

“You're incapable of empathy,” Morgan said, his gaze icy.

“Just like your partner,” he added, stepping closer. “We know you have an accomplice.”

William met Morgan’s eyes, unruffled.

“He is confident that his partner would do anything to protect him,” Rossi remarked, studying
the unsub from behind the glass.

“You weren’t complete until you met him, huh?” Morgan scoffed, leaning against the table.
He read aloud a decoded message from William to his partner: “It’s been so long, my heart
aches. I need to see your face again soon.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s pretty obvious there’s an emotional
connection. You can’t deny it. You and your partner are two men in love with each other.”

William simply smirked in response.

“Where did you meet this guy, William?”

“Are you in love, detective?”

“No,” Morgan replied coldly.

“Then you have no idea what you’re talking about.” William’s smug expression only
deepened.

“You’re right,” Morgan said, leaning closer, a hint of disgust in his voice. “I have absolutely
no idea what it’s like to be in love with another man.”

Emily raised her eyebrows and stole a glance at Reid, noticing his face had gone pale.

Reid’s heart stopped. Or at least that was how he felt. The phrase he just heard immediately
echoed in his mind.

I have absolutely no idea what it's like to be in love with another man.

A calm voice in his head told him, “I knew it,” but confusion soon overwhelmed him. He felt
dizzy. He was still watching Morgan whose mouth was moving but he couldn't hear any
sound. Reid left the interrogation room.

Emily and Rossi exchanged worried glances. Rossi nodded to Emily, and she quickly
followed Reid.

***

Outside, the Florida sun bathed the scene in warmth, reminiscent of autumn in D.C.

“Reid, where are you going?” Emily called.

“Oh, hi, Emily. I uh... I just needed some air.” It was clear that Reid had been crying; his eyes
and nose were red.

“Reid, are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?” he replied, trying to mask his distress.

Emily stepped in front of him, locking eyes. “Reid. In interrogation, we say things we don’t
mean. We act. We say whatever it takes to get a confession.”
Reid stared at her, surprised by how well she understood his mind. Realizing he couldn’t hide
anything from her, he told her, “It’s okay, Emily. I knew it. He told Garcia the same thing a
long time ago. I already knew.”

He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “Excuse me.” He tried to walk past her.

“Reid,” Emily said, grabbing his arm gently.

She searched his eyes. “Morgan loves you.”

Reid pursed his lips and nodded. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I don’t doubt he really cares about me. I think he’d even risk his life for me,” he said,
a forced scoff escaping his lips.

Emily held his gaze, refusing to let him dismiss his feelings.

Reid bit his lower lip, his expression turning serious again. “But he would never allow
himself to be ‘in love’ with me. He said he was attracted to me, but he’d never cross that
line.”

“Reid…” Emily hesitated, wanting to share what Morgan had confided, but knowing it
wasn’t her place.

“He never kisses me, Emily. He never tells me he loves me. Instead, he insists I seek out
relationships. It all makes sense now.” He looked away, fighting back tears.

“Do you… love him?” Emily asked, voicing a question that had lingered in her mind.

Reid shook his head, brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what it is to love.”

Emily chuckled softly. “Reid, when JJ asked us to define love, you were the first to answer.
You were so confident.”

“Yeah…” Reid chuckled lightly. “I said love is a combination of brain elements:

monoamines, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin.”

Emily laughed again, shaking her head.

“I guess love is more than brain elements,” Reid admitted.

After a moment of silence, Reid spoke again. “I know I’m not being fair. I don’t even know if
I love him, but I want him to love me.”

A subtle smile crossed his face. “When we walk together, hand in hand, I often convince
myself that we truly love each other and will be together forever. But I need to wake up from
that. I have to face reality.”
***

William studied Morgan, squinting at him. “A black cop in the FBI,” he scoffed. “You know,
everyone who goes into law enforcement has this air of moral superiority. You, it seeps out of
every single pore.”

He continued, “But the truth is, we’re not so different, you and I.”

“How so?” Morgan glared at him.

“Being a black cop... You got a big chip on your shoulder, a lot to prove. You and I chose
different games, but we’re both seeking the same goal. We want to feel powerful.”

Morgan let out a scoff. “Now who's the one who has no idea what he's talkin' about?”

Staring down at William, Morgan continued, “You disgust me. You and I are nothin’ alike.
You really think that we’re the same because of our skin color? That's all we have in
common. You hurt innocent people. I don't.”

***

Reid and the team created an encrypted blog entry, posing as William. The message implied
that he was cooperating with the police, making his partner believe that William had turned
him in.

Their trust was shattered. The team identified the other unsub and successfully apprehended
him.

That evening, they flew back to Quantico.

***

It was a snowy morning at Quantico, and everyone arrived at the office grumbling about the
cold.

Emily felt a nagging concern for Reid. Although he was acting normally—even engaging in
banter with Morgan—she couldn't help but notice his pensive glances in Morgan’s direction.

With no new case on their plates, the team focused on their individual tasks.

During the lunch break, Emily noticed Morgan still at his desk and decided to approach him.

“You should talk to Reid.”

“What? Why?”

“When you were interrogating William Harris, Reid was watching.”

“So?”
“After you said something, he left. I had a hunch something was wrong, so I followed him. I
think he was crying.”

“After I said what?” Morgan looked genuinely confused.

“I quote: ‘I have absolutely no idea what it's like to be in love with another man.’”

Morgan’s expression shifted from confusion to utter surprise.

“Why would Reid think it‘s got anything to do with our relationship?”

“Because you sounded pretty convincing—even to me.”

Morgan flustered.

“When I was in that room with that man, all I felt was disgust, contempt, and outrage. When I
said that, I was thinking of Buford, because looking at him reminded me of Buford, who once
told me he was in love with me.”

Then Morgan’s gaze wandered.

“Reid... Reid is like the opposite of all that darkness and filth. My mind doesn’t mix the
things I love with the things I loathe. I didn’t let a single thought of Reid cross my mind
when I was in that interrogation room.”

“You should tell that to Reid.”

“He should know that! He should know that I wasn't talking about him!”

Frustration bubbled inside Morgan. He was angry at himself for not noticing Reid’s distress
and upset that Reid had misunderstood him.

How could he? Morgan shook his head.

“Have you ever told him you love him?”

“No.”

“Derek, don’t expect him to know you love him when you never tell him that.”

Morgan looked at Emily, “Where is Reid?”

“He just went out for lunch.”

Without a second thought, Morgan quickly grabbed his jacket and left.

***

It was still snowing outside. Coming back from the warm climate of Florida, the temperature
in Quantico felt especially cold.
In the icy white air, a tall, thin figure in a black peacoat stood out.

“Reid!” Morgan called as he ran toward him.

Breathing out white puffs of air, Morgan finally caught up. “Reid…”

“Morgan. You just ran over here like a dramatic farewell scene.” Reid teased gently. Morgan
always looked good in his black leather jacket, and Reid found himself captivated for a few
seconds.

But Morgan’s face was serious. He gazed at Reid, still exhaling white breaths.

“Morgan? What’s going on?”

Morgan cupped Reid’s face, looking him straight in the eye.

“I love you.”

Reid widened his hazel eyes and gazed back at Morgan, staring for a few seconds as if trying
to grasp the meaning of it.

“You know that I love you, don’t you, Reid?”

“Yeah... I know.”

Something felt off. Something wasn't getting through. Morgan remembered a conversation
from last year’s BAU Christmas party when they were playing poker.

“How do you define love, Derek?” Emily asked him.

“Self-sacrifice,” Morgan replied. “When you truly love someone, you’d be willing to die for
them.”

“Have you ever loved someone?” When JJ asked Morgan, Reid interjected.

“He loves everyone. Trust me, he’d risk his life for someone he just met.”

Morgan snapped back to the present.

He spoke slowly, making sure each word would sink in.

“I love you. And also... I’m in love with you.”

Reid stared, wide-eyed and speechless. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Morgan nodded.

They gazed at each other for a moment, the cold air wrapping around them. Morgan’s ears
started to sting, and he instinctively covered Reid’s ears with his hands to warm them, then
cupped his cheeks.

“I love you,” Morgan said once more, leaning his forehead against Reid’s. “I’ve wanted to
tell you that for a long time.”

Reid leaned into Morgan’s chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace as Morgan wrapped his
arms around him.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Reid whispered.

Morgan pulled back slightly, and gently stroked Reid’s face as he gazed into his hazel-brown
eyes. “I’ll wait until you tell me that you love me too.”

Reid told Morgan hesitantly, “To tell you the truth, I still don’t know what love is. I still don't
know if I can truly love someone.”

“It’s okay. Don’t force it. You’ll know when you do.”

Morgan pulled Reid into a tight embrace, frustrated by the distance created by the coat and
leather jacket. He held him close, the warmth between them growing stronger against the
cold.
 Platonic
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 4, Episode 16. It's February 2009. Reid
is 27, Morgan is 35.

Although their relationship remained platonic, Morgan's confession of love allowed them to
explore new expressions of affection.

Over the past two years, they had become skilled at "not crossing the line." It all began the
night Reid visited Morgan after Gideon had left. That evening, they shared a bed, with
Morgan holding Reid from behind but stopping short of anything more.

As they navigated countless intimate moments, they unconsciously established unspoken

rules about what was acceptable. Two years was long enough for them to settle into their
platonic bond.

Every time Morgan said, "I love you," Reid’s heart raced. The decision rested on him; if he
replied with "I love you too," Morgan would cross that line. Reid yearned for him to take that
leap—he craved Morgan’s kiss, his touch, the sensation of their skin against each other in
bed. But Reid hesitated to respond, fearing his feelings might stem only from physical desire.
He wanted to be sure his love for Morgan was genuine and not just an attraction.

On quiet weekends free from work, Reid and Morgan often enjoyed each other’s company.
Today, they lounged in Reid's apartment, both absorbed in their books.

After nearly an hour, Morgan began to tire while Reid remained engrossed. Leaning back on
the sofa, Morgan stole a glance at Reid’s profile.

“Your hair... it’s getting curlier in the back,” he noted.

“Really?” Reid replied, still focused on his book.

Morgan hesitated, then asked, “Can I touch your hair?”

Reid glanced up, his cheeks flushing. “You... never asked before.” He offered a shy smile.
“Go ahead.”

As Morgan gently ran his fingers through the back of Reid’s hair, he lost track of time,
captivated by the softness of the curls. Reid closed his eyes, feeling a mix of nerves and
comfort as Morgan’s touch sent pleasant shivers through him.
“If you like hair so much, why don’t you grow your own?” Reid teased.

Morgan chuckled at the suggestion. “I don’t like any hair. I like your hair.” He wrapped a
delicate lock of Reid’s hair around his index finger and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“I love you,” Morgan whispered longingly.

Reid's heart raced again, caught in the intensity of Morgan’s gaze. A rush of emotions
tightened his chest and blurred his thoughts, leaving him breathless.

“Can I... touch your lips?” Morgan asked softly. Reid’s heart raced even faster as he
swallowed, nodding in response and closing his eyes once more.

Morgan's fingers brushed Reid’s lower lip, making his lips part slightly. He traced the
contours slowly, each movement sending a thrill through him. Morgan’s heart ached, filled
with a mix of excitement and yearning.

Morgan slowly withdrew his hand, sinking back into the sofa with a deep sigh.

“Do you want to go out?” Morgan asked.

“There’s nothing to do outside, and it’s cold.” Reid stood and stretched. “Wanna do
something else?”

Morgan took Reid’s hand and stood up. “But if we stay inside…” He pulled Reid into a hug.
“I’d want to touch you more…” He tenderly stroked Reid’s soft sweater, feeling as if the
fabric were part of him. “And more… and more…” He squeezed Reid gently, sighing again.

“Morgan, you’re acting weird today.”

“Hmmm…” Morgan buried his face in Reid’s hair. “I guess I feel a little… horny.” He pulled
away, exhaling.

“Do you… uh, need to go to the bathroom for… release?”

Morgan startled, his eyes widening as he flushed. He stared at Reid, momentarily lost for
words.

“Um… by release, I meant maybe you could…”

“Stop! Stop! I know what you meant,” Morgan rushed to interrupt, flustered.

Now Reid was turning red.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head, and playfully smacked Reid on the head.

That’s when both their phones started beeping.

“Work.”
“Yeah.”

They both sighed.

***

The BAU was called to Dallas to investigate a female serial killer posing as a high-class call
girl, targeting high-powered executives.

On their private jet, they delved into the case.

Reid began, “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on
them, but what we do know suggests they often throw the rules out the window. Take
signatures, for instance. They don’t torture or take trophies.”

Morgan chimed in, “Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills.”

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don’t feel the need to do anything extra,” Reid clarified.

“So, basically, women are more efficient at killing.” JJ observed.

Hotch interjected, “What drives prostitutes to kill their clients?”

“Money, drugs, PTSD,” Morgan replied.

Reid squinted at his document. “She’s using tetramethylenedisulfotetramine—a common rat

poison in China, easily dissolved in alcohol.”

“Poison is the perfect M.O.—quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming,” Rossi added.

***

Morgan and Reid arrived at a high-end real estate office to meet Madam Lauren, who
arranged dates for escorts under the guise of legitimate business.

“Sex agency hiding behind real estate, huh?” Morgan sighed.

“Actually, there's a lot of overlap between real estate and sex work. Property is a safe and
inspection-free investment for large sums of cash.” Reid whispered.

“Hello, you two,” a friendly woman greeted them, placing a hand on Reid’s back as she
guided them to her office, making him squirm.

“I can arrange beautiful escorts for you gentlemen,” she offered with a chuckle, relishing
Reid’s discomfort. “Just kidding! Agent Hotchner called. You are FBI, right?”

“Yes,” Morgan replied, showing her his badge.

Madam Lauren explained she facilitated meetings between consenting adults but claimed no
responsibility for what happened afterward.
“I guess there're only so many men that can, uh, afford the service you provide,” Reid began,
uncomfortably.

“That’s certainly true,” she replied.

“What about the, um, type of work your, uh... employees do?” Reid hesitated. “We're uh...,
sort of operating under the assumption that this escort is, um, killing men who... make her
perform a...s..sp..specific sexual act...?”

“What did you have in mind, sweetie?” Madam Lauren smiled at him.

“I… I don’t even… Uh… I don’t know,” Reid stammered again.

Morgan shot Reid a look and shook his head slightly.

Once outside, Morgan teased, “Reid, come on, you’re 27, not 17.”

“What?”

“Stop stammering when asking about sex.”

Reid pouted as Morgan chuckled.

***

Morgan, Emily, Reid, and JJ promised to meet at the hotel bar that night for a change.

Morgan and Reid sat at the counter, waiting for the women. Morgan ordered a beer while
Reid opted for ginger ale.

“Why would a man pay a woman five figures for a night? I just don't understand,” Reid
mused.

“Madam Lauren said her workers are groomed to be the men’s therapists. They know how to
listen,” Morgan replied.

“Have you ever slept with call girls?” Reid asked.

Morgan took a sip of his beer and said, “I have,” his expression turning glum. Reid raised an
eyebrow.

“Are you disappointed?” Morgan asked.

“No, just curious. You’re Derek Morgan—you attract women by just existing. Why pay for
it?”

“I was young. I wanted to see what the… professionals do,” Morgan admitted.

“How was it?” Reid asked, curious.

“Very bad. The self-loathing after sex was suffocating.” Morgan shook his head, lost in
thought. “I did a lot of stupid things. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t deserve to even touch your
hair.”

“Do you think I’m some kind of saint with no sexual desires?” Reid replied, exasperated.

Then, a smirk crossed his face. He leaned closer, putting his elbow on Morgan’s shoulder and
whispered in his ear. “I sometimes seek relief too—thinking about you.”

Morgan nearly choked on his beer, a shiver running down his spine. “Reid!” His face flushed.

Reid laughed out loud. “That was for teasing me earlier. Now we’re even.”

Just then, JJ and Emily arrived. “Hey, boys. We’re not interrupting anything, are we?”

“No, I’m glad you’re here. Keep this boy away from me,” Morgan said, letting the women sit
between him and Reid.

“Derek, your face is red,” Emily noted.

Reid chuckled, and the women exchanged amused glances.

***

The next morning, the BAU presented their profile to the local police and the lawyers of the
deceased.

The unsub is a white woman, aged 25 to 30, working as a call girl charging between $10,000
and $15,000 per session. She likely grew up without a father figure and is channeling her
rage toward clients who abandon their families.

A lawyer connected to one of the deceased mentioned a property that may belong to the
unsub, prompting the team to investigate the penthouse she might be living in.

“You got anything?” Morgan asked Emily.

“No, she seems too smart to leave receipts lying around,” she replied.

Morgan glanced at her closet, packed with various outfits. “She’s gotta be whatever the
customer wants.”

“Hey, Prentiss,” Morgan said, pulling out a black SM play costume and holding it up on her.

“Got a whip?” he teased, earning an eye roll from Emily while Reid chuckled.

They continued searching the apartment.

“Hey, look at this,” Emily called out. “She’s got a lot of high-end designer jewelry, and then
this.” She showed Reid and Morgan a tiny ring.

Morgan inspected it. “It’s way too small for an adult.”

“She probably kept it from her childhood,” Reid observed, squinting at the ring.

“Oh, it’s a purity ring,” Emily noted. “By wearing it, you promise to save yourself for
marriage.”

“You never date until marriage?” Morgan asked.

“They do date,” Emily clarified. “I know a couple, both are my friends. They were madly in
love with each other but stayed platonic until marriage.”

“Ha! It’s like Morgan and me!” Reid blurted out, chuckling.

Emily and Morgan whipped their heads toward him, eyes wide. Realizing his mistake, Reid
pursed his lips.

They stole a glance at Hotch, who was on the phone, oblivious.

Morgan gently shoved Reid’s head.

Emily whispered to Morgan, “Do you want me to buy you a purity ring?”

“No, thanks,” Morgan shook his head, exhaling in amusement.

***

The unsub was identified as Megan Cain. Growing up, Megan’s father had a long-term
relationship with a call girl, ultimately leaving Megan’s mother for her. This abandonment
shaped Megan’s path; she became a call girl herself, obtaining a client list from her father’s
former companion. Her motive for killing clients was clear: she sought to prevent them from
repeating her father’s betrayal to their families.

***

The team decided to stay in Dallas for a few hours after wrapping up the case. After having
dinner together, they made their way to the Music Hall at Fair Park, where an outdoor jazz
concert titled "Love, Jazz & Romance" was taking place. The atmosphere felt cozy, with the
soothing sounds of jazz filling the air. Despite the chilly temperature, the faces in the crowd
were warm and animated with excitement.

Morgan and Reid settled at the back of the audience.

“Did you know yesterday was Valentine’s Day?” Morgan asked.

“No, I wasn’t aware,” Reid replied.

“I was going to give you something at your apartment.” Morgan pulled out a box of Valentine
cookies. “I’ve had it in my bag for two days; they might be a bit crushed.”

“Thank you, Morgan,” Reid smiled.

“You're welcome,” Morgan beamed back.

“And, uh... one more thing.” He handed Reid a small white box.

“Don’t tell me it’s a purity ring,” Reid said, half-joking.

Morgan burst into laughter. “No.”

Reid opened the box to find a key inside.

“Is this...?”

“It’s a key to my house,” Morgan explained.

Reid looked at him, surprised.

“A year ago, you waited for me for two hours in freezing temperatures. Next time, you can
just come in.”

“Thank you,” Reid said, his heart swelling with happiness as he stared at the key.

“I love you, Reid.”

He met Morgan’s warm gaze, and his breath caught in his throat. Reid blinked, then looked
down at the key in his hand.

Morgan reached out, gently running his fingers through Reid’s hair, then pressed a soft kiss to
his cheek. Surrounded by the romantic strains of jazz, Reid felt as if he might melt away.
 Desires

It was Wednesday morning. After a grueling case the night before, Hotch granted the team a
half day off. Reid decided to spend the time finishing his book, “Phänomenologie des
Geistes,” in its original German, believing that reading it in its native language would deepen
his understanding.

Yet today, concentration eluded him as Morgan’s presence seemed to linger, his whispers of
"I love you" and the soft brush of his lips against Reid's cheek distracting him. Frustrated,
Reid removed his glasses and flopped onto the couch with a long sigh.

Fumbling through his messenger bag, he retrieved the small blue glass bottle—the Calvin
Klein cologne Morgan had given him as a comforting substitute for dilaudid. He opened the
cap and inhaled Morgan’s familiar fragrance, fresh and aquatic. Then he closed his eyes,
allowing Morgan’s voice to whisper in his ear.

“Reid, I'm in love with you.”

He sighed and wet his lips, his thoughts consumed by Morgan. The scent of his dark skin, the
warmth of his body, the way his fingers brushed through Reid’s hair—each memory flooded
him with longing. With another deep sigh, he decided to relieve the tension building inside
him.

He went to his bedroom and removed all his clothes, unsure how other men went about it.
But he had his own way, and he appreciated the comfort of his routine.

He had always considered himself low-libido. Since graduating from university, he hadn’t
had an intimate relationship, and he was fine with that. He rarely felt the urge to take care of
himself—until he began to daydream about Morgan kissing him. After Morgan’s confession,
his desires had intensified, becoming harder to ignore.

As he touched himself, he imagined Morgan’s body pressing against him, almost able to feel
the heat and firmness of his muscles.

Morgan gently bit his ear and whispered, "I love you, Reid.” Then he started kissing his neck
passionately. Morgan’s hand glided over every inch of Reid’s body. Reid's breath quickened,
his other hand gripping the bed sheets tightly.

He let out a contented sigh after he came.

After cleaning himself, he stretched his arms and back, feeling refreshed. He knew that his
brain had released a rush of oxytocin, dopamine, and norepinephrine, synergistically
enhancing his mood and cognition.

After washing his hands, he began dressing, thinking about making coffee and resuming his
reading now that his mind felt clear.
Just then, the doorbell rang, causing Reid to freeze for a second. Who would show up at his
door on a weekday morning except for...

He quickly finished dressing and put on his glasses.

“Heeey, what’s up?” Reid greeted Morgan in an overly casual, bro-like tone.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, studying him.

“Hey. I called you twice. Can I come in?”

“Sure…”

Reid felt momentarily lost as he faced the man who had just been touching him so intimately.
He swallowed hard.

“Can you move?”

“Oh. Sorry,” Reid smiled nervously as he let Morgan in.

Morgan scrutinized Reid suspiciously, looking at his glasses, tousled hair, and slightly askew
clothes.

“Are you... hiding your girlfriend?” Morgan asked, half-serious.

“What? No.”

Morgan caught a hint of cologne in the air.

Lowering his voice, Morgan said, “Reid, seriously. If it’s a bad time, I can come back later. Is
someone in your bedroom?”

“No. There’s... nobody.”

“Hmm.” Morgan studied Reid for a few seconds before adjusting the collar of his dress shirt
beneath the vest. He finally seemed to drop his suspicion.

“Well, I was gonna ask if we could have lunch together before work.”

“Uh... I was hoping to finish my book, but that’s okay.”

“I can grab something and come back. You can continue reading.”

“Great. Thanks.”

After Morgan left, Reid hurried to the bedroom, tossing the towel he had used into the
hamper and stashing the cologne back in his bag.
***

Morgan returned with sandwiches, finding Reid engrossed in his book.

"I'm almost done," Reid said, glancing up.

“Take your time,” Morgan replied, smiling at his friend. He always found Reid with his
glasses charming.

After about ten minutes, Reid closed the book. “Okay, I’m done.”

“What’s it about?”

“It's about philosophy, Morgan.”

“Come on, Reid, you really think I'm too dumb to understand any of the stuff you read? Give
me the summary.”

Reid looked at him, then cleared his throat.

“Die Phänomenologie des Geistes von Hegel untersucht die Entwicklung des Bewusstseins
von der Sinneswahrnehmung bis zum absoluten Wissen, beschreibt Stufen des
Selbstbewusstseins und betont die Bedeutung des dialektischen Denkens für das Verständnis
der Realität.”

Morgan’s expression turned bewildered, and he laughed, “Okay, I give up.”

Reid chuckled and stood. “I’ll grab some water.”

Morgan picked up the book and flipped through its pages. “I didn’t know you could read
German at that level.”

“I can read it, but not hold a conversation.”

Morgan smirked, “You can’t hold a conversation in English either.”

“Hey!”

Reid playfully punched Morgan, who laughed and pulled him into a hug. Reid thought it was
just part of the fun, but Morgan held on a little longer.

When Morgan finally pulled away, he smiled coyly. Morgan’s bashful look caught Reid off
guard, prompting him to kiss Morgan's cheek, making him blush even more.

They had an early lunch together, chatting about random topics until a few moments of
silence settled in.

“Reid.”
“Mm-hmm.”

“Do you… do you ever think about me when you, um, handle yourself?” Morgan asked, his
tone gentle rather than teasing.

Reid's brows shot up, completely taken aback.

“Wh-what? What did you say?” he stammered, struggling to find his words.

“You mentioned it at the bar,” Morgan said, feeling his face heat up as his heart raced.

Reid fumbled for a response. “Uh…”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, scratched his neck, and finally admitted in a soft voice,
“Some… sometimes.”

“I do too,” Morgan confessed.

Reid’s cheeks flushed bright red.

The silence that followed was awkward but strangely warm and pleasant. Reid adjusted his
glasses, avoiding Morgan's gaze, while Morgan couldn't help but grin, his own cheeks tinted
pink.

“Uh… where is this conversation going?” Reid finally asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I’m not good at conversations, remember?”

Morgan chuckled.
 Bullet
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 4, Episode 18. It's March 2009. Reid is
27, Morgan is 35.

“Clear,” Rossi called from the other room.

“Clear!” Emily replied. “There’s no one here.”

As Hotch and Reid emerged from a different residence, Reid spoke into his shoulder mic.
“We’ve got nothing.”

“Same here,” Rossi responded. “Have you heard from Morgan?”

“No,” Reid said, anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Morgan,” Hotch called through the mic. “He’s not responding.”

Reid's heart raced with dread.

***

Half an hour earlier, the team had identified three potential addresses where the unsub might
be hiding. They split into groups to cover each location.

Morgan, partnered with a local detective, cautiously ascended to the second floor, guns
drawn.

Before he could register what was happening, Morgan lost consciousness. His last memory
was the unsettling sensation of a presence behind him.

With a sudden force, the unsub pushed him out of the window. The glass shattered with a
deafening crash as Morgan fell, the impact of the ground knocking him out cold.

Though he couldn’t open his eyes, Morgan heard a voice, muffled yet hauntingly clear. It
hovered in a space both distant and near.

“Wake up, Derek. It’s time to die.”

The unmistakable click of a gun's trigger echoed in his ears.

***

Morgan awoke to the urgent voices of paramedics sent by Hotch.

“Agent Morgan?”

He squinted, struggling to piece together the fragmented reality around him. His eyelids felt
heavy, as if weighed down by lead. Lying still, he couldn't grasp the contours of his
surroundings, but the scents of damp earth, grass, and blood filled his senses.

“Reid…”

“Agent Morgan?” the voice called again, sharper this time.

“Yeah…” Morgan’s voice cracked as he attempted to push himself up, but the ground seemed
to pull him back down.

“Just relax. You fell from the window. We’re here to help,” one paramedic reassured him.
Panic began to subside, replaced by confusion. Images flickered through his mind—an empty
room, a staircase, a large window, and that ominous voice.

—Wake up, Derek. It’s time to die.

Morgan shot his eyes open.

He slowly sat up, scanning his surroundings. Where was he? How did the voice know his
name? Then, a chilling realization hit him: his credentials were gone. He searched the grass
around him. Instead of his badge, he found a live bullet, left beside him like a grim token—a
reminder of the threat that had nearly taken his life.

***

When the team arrived, paramedics were attending to Morgan’s wounds.

Inside the unsub’s house, Morgan winced as a medic stitched up his shoulder. Emily stood
beside him, grimacing in sympathy.

Hotch entered the room. “You all right?”

“He took my credentials,” Morgan said, distress clear in his voice.

“The important thing is that you’re okay,” Hotch replied, offering reassurance.

Morgan glanced down, revealing an unused bullet he was gripping tightly. “He left me this.”

“Power and manipulation. Don’t let him get to you,” Hotch warned, meeting Morgan’s gaze.

Hotch’s phone rang, and he stepped out of the room.

Morgan fiddled with the bullet, grimacing as the paramedic pulled the thread tight. “Ow!
Come on, man.”
He turned to Emily. “Where’s Reid?”

“He’s on his way with Rossi,” Emily said.

Morgan shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

“Morgan, you’re alive,” she reminded him.

“And you know why?” he replied glumly.

“It doesn’t really matter,” she said, her tone soothing.

“I’m sitting here because I was knocked out cold. He couldn’t torture me.” He glanced at the
bullet again. “Prentiss, he’s telling me, ‘I had you.’”

Emily nodded. “The unsub likes to interact with his victims, to tell them he's going to kill
them before he does.”

“Or by letting them know he could have,” Morgan added, his voice heavy with despair.

“Hotch is right. He’s just trying to get inside your head,” Emily cautioned.

Just then, Reid’s voice broke through. “Where is he? Where’s Morgan?”

Morgan exchanged a look with Emily as Reid rushed into the room, his brow furrowed in
concern.

“What happened?” Reid asked, eyes wide.

“Reid, step back. Morgan is receiving medical care,” Hotch said firmly.

“What happened?” Reid pressed.

“I’ll fill you in,” Emily said, guiding Reid aside. “He was thrown from a window and lost
consciousness.”

“So he met the unsub,” Reid gasped, his heart racing.

Emily nodded. “When he came to, he noticed his credentials were gone and an unused bullet
was left behind.”

“Oh God.” Reid felt his blood run cold, breath quickening.

He swayed slightly, and Emily instinctively steadied him. “Reid, stay strong. For Derek.”

Reid met her gaze and nodded.

As they returned to the room, Morgan was still seated, his treatment complete. He was
pulling on his shirt when he caught sight of Reid.

“Reid.”
Morgan reached out, taking Reid’s hand. They locked eyes, holding each other’s hand in
silence, a moment of unspoken understanding between them.

Emily watched, touched by their bond—their ability to find comfort in each other without
needing words.

***

Back at the local police department, the BAU regrouped to examine the connection between
the unsub and the first victim, Foyet. Something didn’t add up.

Garcia uncovered that Foyet had been fired for inappropriate relations with a student. The
team became convinced that Foyet was, in fact, the unsub, having inflicted severe wounds on
himself to feign victimhood.

Without hesitation, they raced to Foyet’s house. Hotch ordered Morgan to stay behind, but
Morgan refused to back down.

When the team finally cornered the unsub, Foyet recognized Morgan and smirked. “Hello,
Derek.”

Reid felt a rush of fear and rage.

“Where’s my badge?” Morgan yelled, his voice a roar as he restrained Foyet, hands pinned
behind his back. “Where is it? You son of a bitch!”

The unsub scoffed at him. “I’m going to be more famous than you ever realize.”

“Dream on,” Morgan spat as he led him away.

***

That night, Reid couldn't sleep. Even though they had captured Foyet, the image of him
looming over Morgan, who lay unconscious and vulnerable, haunted Reid. The thought that
Morgan’s life had been in Foyet's hands horrified him.

By the time Reid arrived at Morgan’s house, it was past midnight. The lights were still on.

“Reid. Hi.”

Morgan smiled gently as he ushered him inside.

“Sorry it’s... late. Were you up?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Reid asked.

“I feel uneasy,” Morgan admitted with a sigh. Then he added a little coyly, “I was hoping you
would come.”
They exchanged subtle smiles, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

“Are you okay?” Morgan returned the question.

“I feel better... as long as you’re right in front of me.”

“Sounds familiar,” Morgan said, warmth in his eyes.

They both recalled the time Morgan had come to Reid’s apartment after the Benjamin Syrus
case, plagued by flashbacks of Reid in flames. When Reid had asked if he was okay, Morgan
had replied, “As long as you’re right in front of me.”

Reid studied Morgan's face. The cuts from the shattered glass still looked painful. A bandage
covered the stitches at the side of his left eye.

“You didn’t sense him approaching?” Reid asked hesitantly.

“I did, but it was too late.”

“What do you mean, too late?”

Reid knew he should let Morgan rest, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You're one of the best agents in the field. I just don’t understand how this happened. Were
you distracted?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“When you entered the house, did you sense someone upstairs?”

“What are you trying to say, Reid?”

“I just want to know how it happened so we can prevent it next time.”

“So I can do better?”

“Morgan... don’t be offended. I just don’t want this to happen again.”

“I’m not offended; I’m frustrated. Don’t you think I’ve replayed this a hundred times, trying
to figure out how I let it happen? I don’t need you to tell me that!”

“I’m... I’m sorry, Morgan.”

Morgan shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry too.”

He took Reid’s hand gently. “Let’s not fight.”

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes of silence, Morgan asked softly, “Reid... can you hold me?”
Reid wrapped his arms around Morgan's shoulders, careful to avoid his injured side. Morgan
exhaled, feeling comforted. They remained like that for a while.

“Morgan, you should get some sleep,” Reid said gently. “Sleep supports the synthesis of
collagen, a key protein in wound healing and tissue repair.”

“Okay.” Morgan pulled away slowly, suddenly the drowsiness washing over him.

As Morgan got ready for bed, Reid retrieved an extra blanket from the closet, preparing to
sleep on the couch.

“Reid, you can sleep here. I’ll make space for you,” Morgan said with a yawn.

“You’re injured.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I need more space.”

“Aren’t you worried I might take advantage of you?” Reid smirked.

Morgan chuckled. “I can still outpower you with my other arm.”

Reid sulked at his confidence.

“Stay here, Reid. Please,” Morgan said, his eyelids drooping.

Morgan fell asleep soon after. Reid sat beside him, gazing down at his friend. In sleep,
Morgan appeared defenseless, a stark contrast to the wild strength and confidence he
displayed when awake. His long, dark lashes, relaxed hands, and slightly parted lips exuded
vulnerability. Had the unsub seen him like this?

Don't look at him. Don’t look at him like this, so defenseless.

Driven by the urge to protect him, Reid gently laid his body over Morgan’s, shielding him.

As Reid’s torso touched Morgan’s, Morgan jolted awake, instinctively reaching for his gun
before realizing it was only Reid.

“Reid...? What are you doing?” Morgan’s heart raced.

Reid didn’t respond, his breathing steady against Morgan's shoulder.

“Reid...?” Morgan hesitantly placed a hand on Reid’s back.

“Are you trying to take advantage of me?” he joked softly.

“No... I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me...?”

Reid didn’t elaborate, and Morgan didn’t ask for more. The weight of Reid’s body felt
soothing, a comforting pressure against his own. In that moment, Morgan realized he couldn’t
outpower Reid. He felt paralyzed in the sweetest way, unable to resist the warmth enveloping
him. He sighed contentedly and surrendered to sleep.

The next morning, over breakfast and coffee, Morgan asked, “What were you doing last
night?”

“I was trying to protect you,” Reid replied matter-of-factly.

“Okay.” Morgan shook his head, chuckling. He was so used to Reid’s quirks that sometimes
he forgot how endearing they were. “Then protect me every night,” he added, still smiling.
 Protector
Chapter Notes

This story takes place after Season 4, Episode 18. It's March 2009. Reid is 27, Morgan is
35.

A week later, shocking news rippled through the team.

JJ burst into Hotch’s office. “Foyet escaped.”

Without a word, Hotch and Rossi sprinted out.

JJ continued, urgency lacing her voice. “Guards found him in his cell, vomiting blood and
convulsing. They rushed him to the prison hospital.”

“Get me the U.S. Marshals,” Hotch ordered, tension tightening his features.

“I’ve already called Don Reilly,” JJ replied. “I offered our assistance, but he said they’d call
us if they needed it.”

Just then, Emily and Reid rushed in, clutching papers. “The Boston Field Office identified
documents from Foyet's house,” Emily said.

Reid handed the papers to Hotch, his voice shaky. “They’re schematics for the electrical,
heating, and water ducts for the East Woburn Correctional Facility.”

Hotch’s brow deepened. “He had the schematics?”

Reid’s panic surged. “Not just for Woburn. For every jail, prison, and courthouse in
Massachusetts.”

Rossi interjected, “Ten years of planning.”

Garcia looked around, her voice trembling. “They’re going to find him, right?”

Hotch’s expression was grim. “No, they’re not.”

Morgan, glancing at the screen, turned to face the group. “He said he’d be more famous than
we knew. And he was right.”

Reid felt his strength ebbing away, his face growing pale.

***
Even though there was nothing they could do at the moment, each member of the BAU team
remained on edge throughout the week.

Rossi and Hotch frequently retreated to Hotch’s office to discuss the situation, even as they
juggled other active cases. JJ repeatedly called the U.S. Marshals, pressing for updates.
Meanwhile, Emily, Morgan, and Reid pored over the documents recovered from Foyet’s
house, searching for any clues. Garcia tirelessly monitored hospitals for suspicious activity,
reviewed surveillance footage from public transportation hubs, and kept an eye on border
control.

***

The dull thud of gunfire reverberated off the concrete walls of the FBI shooting range,
punctuated by the sharp, metallic click of a magazine sliding into place.

Morgan leaned against the doorway, his brows furrowing in concern as he watched Reid
through the glass. Reid stood in his lane, fierce concentration etched on his face as he
adjusted his grip on the firearm. Morgan had heard from Hotch that Reid was here again, and
he felt compelled to check on him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the news of Foyet's escape was weighing heavily on Reid.
Shooting practice had never been his forte; Morgan recalled how it was always a chore for
him, approached with reluctance. Yet today, something was different. Morgan watched as
Reid fired shot after shot, each round landing closer to the bullseye. Almost all were within
the circle.

Despite the improvement, frustration creased Reid’s brow. He sighed heavily, shaking his
head as he set the gun down and stepped back to collect himself. Morgan wondered what
thoughts were racing through his mind—was he battling his own demons, or was the pressure
of the situation too much?

Morgan felt a surge of pride at Reid's progress but hesitated to interrupt. He hadn’t seen him
this focused in a long time. Deciding it was best to let him be, Morgan quietly slipped away
from the range.

***

Morgan invited Reid out for the weekend, sensing they both needed a break. The warm
March day was perfect for a stroll outside, with cherry blossoms blooming across
Washington, D.C. He planned to take Reid to East Potomac Park, where the blossoms created
a stunning display.

Reid arrived at Morgan's house thirty minutes early. He called Morgan to find out he was out
jogging and would be back soon.

“Do you have the key?” Morgan asked.

“Yes.”
“Good. Wait inside.”

As Reid stepped into the house, he noticed how quiet it was. Morgan must have taken
Clooney with him. The silence made Reid a little uneasy.

He opened the refrigerator, curious to see what Morgan had. It was stocked with a variety of
fresh food, along with a few beer bottles. Then he went to the bedroom and opened the closet.
He was mesmerized by Morgan's clothes, the fragrance of dry cleaning mingling with a
subtle hint of cologne. He wanted to be buried in his clothes. He imagined Morgan in each
suit and shirt, a sigh escaping his lips as he longed for the closeness.

After closing the closet, Reid sank onto the bed, hugging Morgan's pillow and inhaling
deeply. Satisfied with his snooping, he relaxed and waited for Morgan’s return.

When Morgan finally came back, he was startled to find Reid on his bed, engrossed in a
book.

“What are you doing?”

“I was waiting,” Reid replied, puzzled by the question. “And reading.”

“On my bed?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid’s gaze lingered on the dark man. Morgan’s fitted black joggers hugged his powerful legs
and showcased his strong arms and imposing shoulders, glistening with sweat. The sight was
irresistibly enticing, radiating both strength and allure.

“Why not on the couch?”

“I like your bed.”

Morgan chuckled and headed to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he emerged in a light
long-sleeve shirt and jeans, flopping down next to Reid.

“Tired,” he said, though his tone was satisfied.

“How far did you run?”

“6...7 miles. Approximately.”

“Wow.”

Reid continued reading, while Morgan lay beside him.

“Can you do that thing you did the other night?” Morgan asked, his voice soft.

Reid paused, his finger hovering above the page. “What thing?”
A faint blush crept across Morgan’s cheeks. “Can you lie on top of me? I like feeling your
weight.”

Reid’s heart raced. “Uh... Okay.”

He closed his book and carefully shifted to rest atop Morgan.

As his flat chest pressed against Morgan’s, a wave of comfort enveloped him.

“Hmm…” Morgan exhaled contentedly.

But Reid found it difficult to relax. The smell and warmth of Morgan’s neck stimulated a rush
of desire.

Morgan flustered as he sensed Reid’s arousal.

“Reid… are you…?”

Reid’s hot sigh brushed against Morgan’s ear, sending a thrill through him. Reid pressed his
lower body to Morgan’s.

“Reid… you better get off.”

Morgan tapped Reid’s shoulder, as if signaling his surrender.

Reid felt an overwhelming urge to move his waist, imagining the pleasure of friction. Morgan
sensed that Reid was teetering on the edge of temptation.

“Reid. Reid, stop. Don’t do anything…”

Morgan felt like he was drowning in the surge of excitement.

“Stop me. I thought you could outpower me,” Reid whispered, slightly panting, hoping
Morgan would just pull him off.

“I can’t. I can’t. I’m drowning. Off, Reid, off.”

With a deep sigh, finally Reid got off Morgan’s body. Both were breathing fast.

“I’m sorry,” Reid murmured, too bashful to meet Morgan’s gaze.

“No, no. It was my fault. I asked you to get on me.”

Suddenly, the tension shifted, and Reid began to chuckle. “You were drowning…?”

“You know what? It’s your fault!” Morgan retorted, throwing a pillow at him.

“No, it’s your fault!” Reid tossed it back, but Morgan caught it. Grinning, Reid charged at
him, pushing him down onto the bed. They laughed and mock-wrestled for a moment, until
Morgan pinned Reid’s wrists to the mattress. Their eyes locked, both panting.
Morgan pulled Reid up to help him sit. “Let’s go,” Morgan smiled.

“Okay.”

***

Under the delicate pink canopy of cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C., Reid and Morgan
strolled together, petals fluttering around them like confetti.

Reid animatedly lectured Morgan about the history of the cherry blossoms, his hands
gesturing expressively.

“These trees were a gift from Tokyo’s mayor in 1912, symbolizing goodwill and friendship
between our nations. It was a pivotal gesture to strengthen diplomatic ties and celebrate the
burgeoning relationship between the U.S. and Japan.”

“Hey, kid,” Morgan interrupted.

“What?”

“You're not looking at the flowers.”

“I am,” Reid insisted with a smile, continuing, “The trees arrived on March 27, 1912, and
were planted around the Tidal Basin, which—”

Morgan sighed, his attention drifting.

Just then, a gust of wind lifted the petals, sending them swirling like a snowstorm.

“Whoa.” Both stopped, captivated by the breathtaking sight. Reid’s lecture came to a halt as
they took in the beauty above.

Tilting his head back, Reid tried to catch the drifting blossoms. Morgan smiled at the sight.

They found a patch of grass and settled down with their lunch, which they had picked up on
the way.

Morgan glanced at Reid’s lunch choice and sighed. “A sandwich and a donut? That's just a
bunch of carbs. You should eat healthier, like me.” He laid out his turkey sandwich and salad,
emphasizing his point. Reid merely shrugged.

Cherry petals floated gently around them as they shared their lunch, creating a scene so
serene it felt almost surreal. After a moment of comfortable silence Morgan finally spoke.

“Reid, I know you’ve been spending time at the shooting range.” He studied Reid intently.
“You’ve never liked this part of the job. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Reid’s response was curt.

“Is it fear? Anxiety?”

Reid met Morgan’s gaze, his expression serious. “I want to be able to protect you.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. He knew it had something to do with Foyet’s escape, but protect
him? A wave of emotion washed over him. It wasn’t fear or anxiety driving Reid; it was a
determination.

“I saw you at the shooting range. You were incredible,” Morgan said, warmth spreading
through him.

Reid lifted his eyebrows a little, then blushed.

Morgan continued to watch him. No one had ever expressed a desire to protect him; he had
always been the one safeguarding others.

“Thank you, Reid.”

“For what?” Reid asked, taking a big bite of his donut.

“For being my protector.”

With a gentle smile, Morgan plucked pink cherry petals from Reid’s hair, amused by his
somewhat unreliable protector, cheeks stuffed with donut.
 Alpha Male
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 20. It's April 2009.

Reid sighed as he gazed out the window of the FBI jet, bound for South Padre Island, Texas.

He could already envision the scene: drunken college students in swimsuits, loud music
reverberating through the crowd, laughter and shouts blending into a chaotic symphony of
excitement. The air thick with the scent of sunscreen and spilled drinks, couples dancing
seductively, while guys cheered with drinks in hand. Spring break and college students were
a volatile mix, often leading to trouble.

His gaze drifted to Morgan, seated a few rows back, and he couldn’t help but picture young
Morgan fitting right into that scene.

Morgan caught Reid's glance and offered a subtle, sweet smile.

Reid stood, casually pretending to examine the screen in front of him, then took a seat next to
Morgan as if it were the most natural move in the world. Morgan leaned in and planted a
quick kiss on Reid’s side when no one was looking. Reid blinked, momentarily caught off
guard.

JJ began the briefing. “Two college students were killed in the Hudson Street Hotel. Both
well-built males. They were both sexually assaulted prior to death, and the cause was
asphyxiation.”

“Men being raped and murdered on spring break? That's a twist,” Emily murmured, exhaling
with a sigh.

JJ nodded. “Male raping male. So are we presuming our unsub or victims could be gay?”

Reid replied, “That's not necessarily true.

In male rape, sexual preference typically has less to do with the crime than the power and
dominance. The attacker feels from the act itself.”

Emily turned to Garcia on the webcam. “Was there any DNA left at the scene?”

“Uh, yeah. Too much DNA,” Garcia replied, clearing her throat. “This portion of The Garcia
Show is brought to you by the letter 'I' for icky. The lab has recovered over a hundred trace
samples, as multiple guests create a cesspool of DNA.”

Reid raised his eyebrows in shock, grimacing at the thought.

Garcia continued, “And it’s worth noting that the first victim wasn’t a registered guest.”

Morgan nodded. “That’s common. Kids often rent a room and pack it full to save money. We
could be dealing with hundreds of unregistered guests.”

Reid leaned closer to Morgan, whispering, “That’s what you did?”

“Back in college, yeah,” Morgan admitted with an annoyed look.

Hotch sighed, “We need to check every guest, registered or not.”

***

“You must be the FBI,” the hotel manager said, her expression tense.

“David Rossi. These are agents Morgan and Reid.” Rossi shook hands with the manager.

“Can you show us the room where the last body was found?”

The three agents followed the manager into the room.

“No signs of struggle reported. Everything seemed normal when housekeeping arrived,”
Rossi noted as he scanned the space.

Reid squinted at the footboard of the bed. “Look at this—scratch marks on the footboard. The
victims were bound before the struggle began.”

Morgan examined the marks closely. “That would make sense. Both victims were in pretty
good shape. The unsub needed them tied up in order to control them.”

Reid said with a serious face, “Well, of course in some cases, you can subdue an alpha male
without tying or threatening them.”

“By drugging them?” Rossi suggested.

“Or just... by lying on them,” Reid replied, stifling a smirk at Morgan.

Rossi looked confused, while Morgan shot a squinting glare at Reid.

Reid furrowed his brow, trying to maintain his serious facade. When Rossi wasn’t looking,
Morgan slapped Reid on the butt.

***

The three agents returned to the local police department to discuss their findings with Hotch.

Reid began with the marks on the footboard. “The distance between where each arm was tied
suggests the binding was likely consensual, not coerced.”

Morgan sighed. “How is that possible? Neither victim was gay, and both had dominant
personalities—typical alpha males. They wouldn’t let a guy tie them up.”
Rossi added, “And the tox screen came back negative; they weren’t drugged.”

“Maybe it’s a team.” Hotch suggested, “A woman who lures them back to their hotel room
and ties them up… and a man who rapes and murders them.”

***

The team had developed a profile. One hotel employee emerged as the prime suspect: Adam
Jackson.

Garcia discovered video footage of Adam getting into an altercation with the first victim,
pushing him into the pool.

Digging deeper into Adam's background, Garcia uncovered a tragic story. He had grown up
in Corpus Christi, Texas, where his mother was a victim of spousal abuse before her untimely
death. After that, he lived with his stepfather, who physically and sexually abused him until
Adam was emancipated at the age of 16.

***

Morgan and Reid found Adam on the hotel roof, smoking.

“Adam Jackson? Your manager said we’d find you up here.” Morgan flashed his badge.

“Uh... I, I get migraines,” Adam stammered, fidgeting nervously.

“You discovered the body last night?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“I… I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

Morgan and Reid exchanged puzzled glances. Adam was a timid, awkward young man, a
stark contrast to the confident figure in the video footage.

He fidgeted constantly, never making eye contact. Reid felt a twinge of familiarity; he
recognized the same nervous energy he had struggled with in high school, before meeting
Aidan.

Reid asked gently, showing him a picture of the first victim, William Browder. “Adam, what
about this man? Have you ever seen him before?”

“Never seen him,” Adam replied.

Reid and Morgan shared another glance. Adam was lying; he had pushed William into the
pool.
“Can you come with us? We need to ask you some more questions,” Morgan said. When he
placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, the young man jumped, clearly afraid. Reid stepped in,
gently guiding him forward with a reassuring push.

***

Emily watched Adam through the one-way glass of the interrogation room. “He doesn’t
really look like the dominant partner type, does he?”

“He's our guy,” Morgan replied, his gaze fixed on Adam.

“What makes you so sure?”

Morgan explained, “It’s a classic profile. He grows up with an abusive stepfather, manages to
escape, and then finds himself back in the same area where his abuser lives. Surrounded by
alpha males who reflect that behavior, he snaps.”

“Did he have a problem with you as an authority figure when you interviewed him?” Hotch
asked Morgan.

“Yeah, he backed away. He was skittish.”

“And Reid?” Emily asked.

“Reid was less imposing, and Adam seemed to open up,” Morgan noted, crossing his arms as
he continued to observe.

Inside the room, Reid began in a soft voice. “Adam, why don’t you tell me about the fight
you had with the first victim, William Browder?”

“I don’t... I don’t remember,” Adam stammered.

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Adam, I really want to help you, but you need to do better than that.”

“He... he grabbed me, and I... I guess I pushed him,” Adam said timidly, still avoiding eye
contact.

“That guy was pretty big.”

“S... so?”

“Adam, guys like you and I aren’t...we aren't exactly the fighting type.” Reid said, studying
Adam closely.

“Well, I... I got angry.”

“See, now I’m really confused, because you just said you don’t remember the fight.”
“I don’t. I mean, I...I don’t, but I do.”

“You don’t, but you do. Can you explain how that works?”

“I remember him grabbing me, and the next thing I knew, I was being pulled out of the pool.”

Reid looked at him and sighed.

***

Reid stepped out of the interrogation room.

“Your approach is too gentle. You’ll never get a confession out of him. Let me talk to him,”
Morgan insisted.

“No, you’ll just intimidate him.”

Reid studied Adam through the glass, tapping his forehead with his fist.

“What’s on your mind, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think he’s lying.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I acted just like him in high school. The way he moves his eyes, his hands… you can’t fake
that kind of demeanor.”

“Let’s try the polygraph tomorrow,” Morgan suggested.

***

The team checked into a different hotel, still packed with college students. Hotch had booked
high-end rooms on higher floors to minimize the noise. Given the limited availability, he
paired the team members up. Naturally, Morgan and Reid were paired.

Their room was spacious and cozy, adorned with soft, warm lighting.

Reid leaned against the balcony railing, arms crossed, frowning as he looked down at the
party by the brightly lit pool. Even on the higher floor, the pulsing bass seeped through the
walls, mingling with the laughter and cheers from below.

He sighed, and Morgan noticed the tension in Reid's shoulders.

“You really don’t like college parties, huh?”

“I don’t.”

Reid glanced back at the party and sighed again. “When does this thing end?”

“It won’t wrap up until past midnight,” Morgan replied. “Do you want to get away?”
“To where?”

“To the beach.”

“There will be college kids everywhere.”

“Not necessarily if we find a spot away from the hotel.”

They took a cab to a secluded part of the beach. The quiet atmosphere and soothing sound of
the waves were a welcome relief.

“You were right. This is much better,” Reid said, stretching and sitting on the sand.

They listened to the rhythmic waves and the gentle wind for a while.

“It’s funny how much I enjoy the time with you and how I long for you all the time,” Reid
murmured, his voice nearly drowned out by the surf.

“Why is it funny?”

“Because you’re an alpha male.” Reid mock-punched him on the arm.

“Looking at Adam, I was reminded of how I used to be—avoiding guys who liked parties,
drinking, and flirting. But that was you just a few years ago.”

“A few years? I feel like I left that phase behind a long time ago.”

“You went to Jamaica with Elle Greenaway three years ago and bragged about all the fun you
had with drinks and beautiful women.” Reid smirked, teasing.

“Right…” Morgan admitted, slightly embarrassed.

“So I’m not your type? Is that what you’re trying to say?” he asked, exasperation creeping
into his voice.

“No. You’ve changed a lot.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“What changed you?”

“You. Obviously.”

Reid raised his eyebrows and looked at Morgan.

“I lost interest in parties and dating. Now, whenever I have free time, I just want to be with
you.”

They gazed at each other in the darkness.

“Does my past bother you?” Morgan asked quietly.

“No.”

The wind turned a bit chilly, and Reid wrapped his arms around himself.

“Let’s go back,” Morgan suggested.

When they returned to the hotel, the music had stopped. Some students lingered outside, but
it was much quieter now.

After Reid took a shower, he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Aren’t you going to lie down?” Morgan asked.

“After hearing Garcia’s DNA report, I don’t feel like touching the sheets.”

“They're washed and bleached.”

“I know.” Reid shrugged, reluctantly climbing onto the bed.

“Sleep on me,” Morgan grinned.

“No thanks. You’ll ‘drown,’ remember?”

Morgan blushed. “I won’t. I just wasn’t prepared the other day. I didn’t know you’d get
turned on like that.”

Now Reid blushed, too. “Who wouldn’t get turned on lying atop Derek Morgan?”

Morgan laughed. “If you do, I’ll gently push you off.”

Reid smirked. “I don’t trust you. You can’t resist me.”

“Now who’s sounding like an alpha male, so confident?” Morgan teased.

As the night deepened, the last remnants of noise faded away.

 Polygraph
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 20. It's April 2009.

The alarm clock in the hotel room sounded at six the following morning.

Morgan was the first to rise, changing in the bathroom into his black slacks and sepia brown
t-shirt. While he was comfortable going shirtless around most people, he always tread
carefully with Reid. He recalled a time in New York when he’d opened the door without a
shirt and caught Reid’s flustered expression, prompting him to quickly put one on.

Reid never stripped down in front of anyone. Despite countless nights spent together, they
had always changed in separate rooms, retreating to the bathroom for more discreet
adjustments.

Reid emerged wearing slacks and a tank top, and stood before the mirror. Morgan loved
watching him put on layers of clothes. Reid slipped his long, delicate arms into a white
patterned dress shirt. He somehow fumbled with the buttons every time.

Next, he wrapped a dark blue tie around his neck, focused as he formed the knot. With a
quick tug, he straightened it and adjusted it in the mirror. Then, he slipped into a soft gray
cardigan, the sleeves gliding smoothly over his slender arms. Morgan longed to hold him and
stroke the fabric.

Lastly, Reid slid his watch over the cardigan sleeve. Morgan sauntered over and gently
hugged Reid from behind. “I found Dr. Spencer Reid,” he whispered.

“Switch to work mode, Morgan,” Reid scolded.

“All right.” Morgan raised his hands in playful surrender.

***

In the morning, the team brought in Adam Jackson for the polygraph.

“Reid, are you sure you want me to conduct the interview? You’re the expert here,” Morgan
asked as he prepared for the session.

“You do it. I want to focus on observing,” Reid assured him.

Adam looked visibly nervous and restless as Reid led him into the room. He offered a few
words of comfort, briefly explaining the process of the polygraph, how it worked, what it
measured, and what Adam could expect during the test.

With a nod to Morgan, Reid indicated that Adam was ready and left the room.

Morgan tried to maintain a soft, steady tone.

“State your name.”

“Adam Jackson.”

“What color are your eyes?”

“Green.”

“Where were you the night William Browder was killed?”

“At work.”

“Who is the current president of the United States?”

“Barack Obama.”

“Did you murder William Browder?”

“No.”

“What is 32 minus 19?”

“Thirteen.”

“You lied about the altercation with William Browder. Is there anything else you've lied
about?”

“No.”

“Did you murder Dan Keller?”

“No.”

“What time did you leave work the night William Browder was killed?”

“I... I don’t remember.”

“Have you had sex with William Browder?”

“No.”

“Have you had sex with Dan Keller?”

“No.”
“Using the formula y equals mx plus b, what does b represent?”

“I don’t know.”

***

Morgan returned and showed the results to Reid.

“You were right, kid. Adam didn’t just pass; he passed with flying colors. He wasn’t lying.”

Morgan added, “The only spike I got was on a control question. Honestly, I think I just
flustered him.”

Reid watched Adam leaving the building. When their eyes met, Adam smiled at Reid. It
happened in slow motion. His smile was confident, seductive, and arrogant. Reid furrowed
his brow.

“Reid?”

“Tell me the question that caused the spike on the polygraph.”

“It was a control question to set the baseline.”

“Was it a geometric equation?”

“Reid, I really think he was just intimidated.”

“What if... what if he knew the answer but intentionally got it wrong?”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he realized he wouldn’t know the answer.”

Reid stood up abruptly.

“Reid. Where are you going?”

“Don’t come, Morgan. Trust me. I just need to ask him one more thing.”

“Adam!”

Reid caught up with Adam outside.

Adam turned, slightly tilting his head, meeting Reid's gaze.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. You found me,” he said.

Reid frowned, catching a subtle Southern accent that Adam hadn’t shown before.
“Who are you?” Reid asked, stunned.

“My name is Amanda,” she replied slowly.

Amanda smiled at Reid and walked away, her posture upright, exuding grace and self-
assurance. Reid sensed the allure of a woman who knew her worth.

***

Reid spoke urgently to the team.

“Adam said he wasn't getting any rest. He takes midday naps because he's always exhausted.
He has a history of blackouts, reclusive behavior, prolonged, repeated abuse suffered at the
hands of a dominant male who transferred abuse from his female spouse to his prepubescent
child.”

“Dissociative identity disorder,” Hotch said, and Reid nodded.

“Well, that fits. Recurrent physical abuse and knowledge he shouldn’t have—we’ve seen this
before,” Emily added, nodding as well.

“I witnessed the transformation. His entire body language changed. The alter ego wanted me
to know about her,” Reid continued, looking around at the team.

“During the polygraph, Amanda surfaced for just a moment. She knew the answer to the
question, then realized Adam wouldn’t and lied.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” Morgan sighed, looking frustrated.

“Our profile was accurate, but it wasn’t a team. The unsub was a female alter inside a male
body. She had dominant personalities.”

Emily looked stunned. “So she did the luring and raping both, and Adam has no idea he
killed all those people.”

Reid nodded. “You could argue that Adam didn’t kill those people. A separate person inside
him did.”

Morgan sighed, bewildered. “I don’t even know what we do with this.”

“We take him into custody and let the courts decide,” Hotch exclaimed.

***

Adam Jackson had gone missing, leaving the team in a state of alarm.

Reid quickly deduced that Amanda would likely pursue Adam’s stepfather, Mark Harrison.
Fortunately, Garcia had tracked down his location.
The team burst into Mark Harrison’s house and found Amanda holding a knife to Mark’s
throat.

“Amanda,” Reid called, lowering his gun and speaking calmly.

“Put the knife down!” Morgan shouted, aiming his weapon directly at her.

“Stand back or I'll kill him!” Amanda shouted, her agitation rising.

Reid gestured for Morgan to stay quiet.

“Amanda, you don’t want to do this,” Reid said gently, raising both hands to show he meant
no harm.

“You don’t know what he did to Adam!” Amanda’s face flushed with anger.

Reid said, “When Adam's mother died, his stepfather needed a new outlet for his aggression,
didn’t he?”

“He put Adam in dresses. He beat him. He touched him!“ Amanda’s voice trembled with
rage.

Reid nodded, “Adam was too weak to go through all of that alone. He was just a little boy.
He needed you to protect him.”

“I could take it. I was stronger than he was.” Amanda tightened her arm around Mark’s neck.
“He deserves to die!“

Reid spoke to Amanda desperately. “Amanda. Amanda, listen to me. I swear to God, if you
put him down and come with me, I will get you and Adam the help you both need.”

He continued, “I know that all you want to do in this world is protect Adam. Why don't you
and I help him together?”

“No, Dr. Reid. I know what I have to do to help him. I will keep him safe forever,” Amanda
said, and then she dropped the knife.

Morgan and Rossi quickly restrained and apprehended her.

“Adam? Adam!” Reid called out, searching for him.

There was only Amanda, glaring at Reid.

“Adam!” Reid called again.

“Reid, he’s gone,” Morgan said quietly.

***

At the pier, with boats bobbing gently in the bright glow of the setting sun, Reid stood facing
the water, squinting against the brightness. His hands were tucked in his pockets as he stared
thoughtfully at the shimmering waves. Morgan approached him from behind.

“It’s time to go, kid.”

Reid didn’t respond, keeping his gaze on the water.

“Reid. What’s eating you, man?”

Reid said, still facing the sunset with a pained expression, “We've taken the victim into
custody and let the abuser go free. I don't really... I don't see that as much of a win.”

Morgan spoke softly, his tone gentle. “A lot of lives are gonna be saved now that Amanda’s
off the street. You know that.”

“Yeah, I just…” Reid’s gaze dropped.

“I wish I could have noticed the signs in time to save Adam.”

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself.” Morgan walked over to Reid’s side and took his hand.

“None of us could have noticed. Our profile was right. We just never considered that the team
dynamic could be locked inside one person's mind.”

“I should have,” Reid insisted, looking at Morgan.

Morgan removed his sunglasses and locked eyes with him. “Talk to me. What is this really
about?”

“Tobias Hankel.”

“Tobias Hankel drugged and tortured you for two days. He almost killed you.”

“No, he didn’t. The alter persona of his father did those things to me. The real Tobias Hankel
saved my life.”

“And you think because of Tobias, you somehow owe Adam?”

“I just know he’s still locked in there somewhere.”

“You're gonna have to accept the fact that sometimes we can't save everyone.”

Morgan gently placed his hand on Reid’s shoulder.

***

On the jet back home, everyone was sleeping in their seats except for Morgan and Reid, who
were sitting facing each other.

Morgan glanced at Reid’s haggard face. He was quiet, zoning out, staring out the window as
if his mind were elsewhere.
“What are you thinking?” Morgan asked softly so he wouldn’t wake anyone.

“Nothing. Just… tired.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you thinking about Adam?”

“...No.”

“You’re lying.”

Reid frowned. “With all due respect, Morgan, you’re not an expert in detecting lies. You
missed Adam’s lie on the polygraph.”

Morgan made a sulky face, and Reid couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Reid,” Morgan leaned in. “I’ll show you my skills as a polygraph examiner.”

Reid chuckled. “How?”

“State your name.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“What color are your eyes?”

“Brown.”

“Where were you last night at 10?”

“At the hotel.”

“What is the land area of Virginia?”

Reid frowned but answered promptly, “39,471.7 square miles.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head.

“What was the population of Massachusetts in 1776?”

“291,147.”

“Really?”

“You can look it up.”

“What is 81,047 times 6,984?”

“566,032,248.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm, that’s easy.”

Morgan leaned back and crossed his arms. “In a right triangle, if the lengths of the legs are a
and b, and the hypotenuse is c, what would be the relationship if you know c and need to
express a in terms of b and c?”

Reid lifted an eyebrow. “You know the Pythagorean theorem?”

“Are you impressed?” Morgan grinned.

“A little.”

“So what’s the answer?”

“a equals the square root of c squared minus b squared.”

“Can you explain?”

“According to the Pythagorean theorem, the relationship between the sides is that the square
of the length of the hypotenuse equals the sum of the squares of the lengths of the legs. To
express ‘a’ in terms of ‘b’ and ‘c,’ you start with the equation that states the square of ‘c’
equals the square of ‘a’ plus the square of ‘b.’ You rearrange the equation to solve for ‘a,’
giving you that ‘a’ equals the square root of ‘c’ squared minus ‘b’ squared.”

“Hmm… very impressive.”

“Are we still doing polygraph?”

Morgan said yes and cleared his throat.

“What is your favorite season?”

“Autumn.”

“What is your favorite scent?”

Reid paused for a second and said,

“Derek Morgan.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, warmth surging to his cheeks. He fumbled for words, but all he
could manage was a shy smile.

After a moment, Morgan asked softly,

“Do you love Derek Morgan?”

Reid looked at Morgan, caught off guard.

“Okay, don’t answer that. Just… don’t say no.”

Morgan looked visibly flustered. Reid felt affection swell within him as he gazed at Morgan’s
face.

“You are the worst polygraph examiner.” Reid murmured.

 Amanda
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 4, Episode 20. It's April 2009.

“Hotch said you’re flying to Texas again this weekend.”

“I am.”

Morgan studied Reid with concern. “Reid, I think you’re getting too involved in this.”

Reid glanced at Morgan but didn't say anything. He packed up his things and slung his
messenger bag over his shoulder.

“See you on Monday, Morgan.”

Morgan sighed, watching him leave. This would be Reid’s third trip to Texas in two weeks.

Adam Jackson was admitted to North Texas State Hospital, a facility for those found
incompetent to stand trial or not guilty by reason of insanity.

Every time Reid visited Amanda, an alter of Adam, he returned looking defeated and
withdrawn. He often zoned out for hours, lost in thought as if he were trying to process his
emotions.

***

In his initial visits, Amanda’s arrogant attitude frustrated Reid.

“Do you have any remorse for what you've done?” he asked.

Amanda exhaled smoke slowly. “Why should I? They got what they deserved.”

Reid pressed on. “What about Adam? Did he get what he deserved?”

“Adam is special,” she replied, scowling at Reid with a hostile glare.

Reid couldn’t help but let an accusatory tone slip in. “If he’s so special, why don’t you tell me
how to find him?”

“Because he’s in a better place now.”

Reid sighed, frustration evident. “It’s not for you to decide.”

As he was leaving, Amanda called out, “Tell me, Dr. Reid, how long will you keep visiting
me in here?”

“Until I find Adam.”

“Why do you care?”

“He deserves a life. It’s his.”

“So you’re trying to... wear me down and get him released?”

“No. I’m just waiting for you to do the right thing.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for a very long time.”

***

Amanda had grown up alongside Adam.

Her memories only went back to when she was sixteen, and Adam was just five at that time.
Whenever Adam’s stepfather beat him, she took over. There was one time the beating was so
severe she broke a rib. The pain was excruciating, making each breath and movement a
struggle.

When Adam was ten, sexual abuse started. Amanda took that for him, too. First she didn't
understand what the stepfather was doing. He put her into girls’ clothes and touched her
body. He was breathing hard on her. Then suddenly she felt the pain that was similar to
stabbing or piercing. She screamed.

When she was injured for an extended period, she allowed Adam to sleep for a while. Not
being a social person, she often found solace in the library near her home, where she
devoured book after book, spending almost all her free time immersed in the pages.

***

Amanda glanced at the clock.

Dr. Spencer Reid was coming again, and she mentally prepared herself for his arrival.

He was here to see her, to persuade her.

She heard the familiar voice thanking the usher just before the door opened.

“Hi, Amanda.” Dr. Reid entered, juggling a stack of folders, two cups of coffee, and what
looked like a small box. “Uh—” he exclaimed as several folders slipped from his grasp, a
frequent occurrence with him.

“Hi, Dr. Reid.” Amanda replied, casually holding a cigarette.

As he bent down to gather the fallen folders, he fumbled again, sending another set tumbling.
“Shit…” he muttered, a mild curse escaping his lips, followed by “Excuse me.” Amanda
chuckled at his clumsiness.

“It was, uh... Easter last Sunday. I brought you chocolate.”

Dr. Reid handed her a small box.

Amanda hadn’t expected a gift. She raised an eyebrow and said, “Thank you.”

Finally, Dr. Reid managed to set everything on the table and settled into a chair.

“Do you want to smoke?” Amanda asked.

“What? No. I don’t... I don’t smoke.”

Amanda laughed. “I was just kidding, Dr. Reid. You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, you don’t
sleep around, and you don’t go to parties. You’re not like most guys I know. I like you.”

Amanda smiled at him, her expression more sincere than smug.

“Thank you,” Reid replied, smiling back.

He gazed at her for a few moments.

Amanda felt something she had never felt before: she felt shy. To mask her emotions, she
asked, “Aren’t you gonna persuade me to let Adam come back, like you usually do?”

“No... I want to spend time with you today, Amanda. I want to get to know you.”

Amanda looked at Dr. Reid a little skeptically.

“How old are you, Amanda?”

“I'm 30. You?”

“I’m 27.”

“Have you always been 30?”

“No,” Amanda laughed. “I was a teenager when I endured most of the abuse. I age slower
than Adam.”

Reid nodded, processing her words.

Amanda opened the chocolate box and looked inside. It contained bunny-shaped and egg-
shaped chocolates, all neatly wrapped in colorful foil.

“When Adam was 13, he had a girlfriend named Lauren. She was really nice. I liked her.
They were really cute together.”
Reid smiled, realizing it was the first time he’d heard Amanda speak about a positive
memory of Adam.

“On Easter Sunday, Lauren invited Adam to her church with her family. After the service, she
gave him a cute wooden Easter egg.”

As Amanda continued, her expression shifted. “That night, Mark came into Adam’s room and
found the egg. He was furious. He didn’t like the idea of Adam bringing home a gift from a
girl.”

Reid’s expression tensed.

“The abuse that night was...horrific.”

Amanda stared at a fixed point on the floor.

“What happened?”

“I sensed Adam was in danger so I took over immediately. Mark stripped me naked, tied me
up to the footboard of the bed, stuffed a towel into my mouth and started beating me with his
belt. ”

Reid grimaced and looked down.

“And then...that monster took the wooden easter egg Lauren gave Adam and forced it into
my ass and screamed at me to lay the egg.”

“Oh God...” Reid shut his eyes and covered his mouth, crushed by the intensity of her
suffering. Tears streamed down his face.

“Dr. Reid, you don't need to cry. Adam doesn’t remember any of it,” Amanda said, as if
trying to offer comfort.

“But you do. You remember.”

“Are you crying for me?”

“Yes,” he replied, his heart aching for her.

Amanda stared at Reid, bewildered, confusion and vulnerability in her eyes.

***

That night, Reid returned home mentally drained. Morgan was waiting for him at the airport.
He drove Reid home and asked, “Do you want me to stay?” Reid nodded. This had been the
pattern whenever he went to Texas to visit Amanda.

Reid’s mind lingered on Adam, Riley, Tobias, and Derek—defenseless, vulnerable souls
whose suffering had been exploited by grown men.
Reid had a dream.

He was holding his gun and slowly opening the door to a child’s room. There was Mark
Harrison, beating Adam with his belt. Reid shouted at him to stop but he wouldn't. He got on
Adam’s body and tried to penetrate him. Reid shot Mark.

Reid ran to the bed, but then he realized the man he had just shot was Carl Buford, and the
boy lying naked on bed was Derek.

“Derek! Derek!”

The boy seemed lost in a trance of fear, his pupils dilated. Reid wrapped him in a blanket and
held him close.

“Derek, you are safe now. No one will hurt you ever again.”

Reid told him, crying.

Reid jolted awake, the remnants of the dream still vivid in his mind. Heart racing, he
scrambled out of bed, his breath quick and shallow. The memory of Morgan as a frightened
boy clung to him, making his chest ache.

“Derek!” he cried, his voice hoarse and frantic. He rushed to the couch, shaking Morgan
gently but urgently.

Morgan stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes, confusion etched across his face. “Reid? What’s
wrong?” He pushed himself up on one elbow, his brow furrowing deeper.

Reid threw his arms around Morgan’s neck and apologized repeatedly. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face against Morgan’s shoulder.

“It's ok, Reid. It's ok.” Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid, the warmth of his embrace
slowly easing Reid’s turmoil.

Once Reid had calmed down, Morgan asked gently, “What are you sorry for, Reid?”

“I didn’t come sooner,” Reid whispered.

“Hmm... It’s okay.”

Still puzzled, Morgan decided not to push any further. He kept his hand running gently
through Reid’s hair, offering comfort.

***

“I’ve read most of the books in the literature section,” Amanda told Reid excitedly.

“Yeah, me too,” Reid smiled.

They discovered that the libraries were their secret hideout for both of them.

“The first classic I read was Moby Dick. Ahab’s obsession is so intense,” Amanda said.

Reid beamed. “Absolutely! He really embodies the dangers of ambition. I see parallels with
characters like Oscar from The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. His dreams lead him to
such dark places.”

Amanda nodded enthusiastically. “Right? Oscar’s struggle with his identity make him so
relatable. And then there’s Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment. His struggle with morality
is fascinating.”

“Exactly. It raises questions about whether intelligence can justify harmful actions,” Reid
said thoughtfully.

Over the month, Reid and Amanda had developed a genuine friendship, leaving him
pleasantly perplexed. Amanda began to lower her defenses around him, revealing a more
vulnerable side. The confident, arrogant, and manipulative aspects of her personality
diminished in Reid’s presence.

***

During his sixth visit, Amanda turned to Reid and asked,

“If I were a normal person—not Adam’s alter, and I didn't murder anyone and we were just
friends who had met in a town library or somewhere...”

She hesitated but pressed on. “Would you have dated me?”

Reid looked at her, searching his thoughts before nodding.

“Yeah. I would have.”

His tone was sincere.

“Can you promise me Adam won’t have to pay for what I did?”

“Amanda, I promise.”

“How is the trial going?”

“The competency evaluation already confirmed Adam’s DID, so his defense team is now
preparing an insanity defense. Then it will proceed to trial.”

Amanda listened intently.

“Adam has a strong case. He’ll be found not guilty. I promise.”

Amanda nodded.

“Dr. Reid…”
Reid noticed a tear on Amanda’s cheek.

“I’ll do the right thing,” she said, with her Southern accent.

Then she added, “I might not see you again.”

Reid felt a swell of emotion.

“I will miss you, Dr. Reid.”

“I will miss you too.”

“Can you give me a hug?”

Reid hesitated, flustered. “I, uh... I’m not supposed to have any physical contact with you.”

“Just this once.”

Slowly, Reid pulled Amanda into his chest. She smelled of flowers, and her well-maintained
brown hair was enticing. Though her shoulders were Adam’s, he felt the fragility of a
woman, and emotion surged within him.

“When Adam comes back, where will you go?” Reid whispered.

“I don’t know.”

Reid tightened his embrace, sadness washing over him.

Three days later, he received a call from North Texas State Hospital informing him that
Adam had returned.

***

Morgan smiled as he saw Reid’s car parked in the driveway. The lights were on, and as soon
as he opened the door, the rich aroma of coffee filled the air.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were here,” Morgan beamed at Reid, who sat on the couch with a
book in hand. Cloony was curled up at his feet.

“Welcome home,” Reid replied, adjusting his glasses with a smile.

Morgan noticed a stack of books on the coffee table: Moby Dick, The Brief Wondrous Life of
Oscar Wao, Crime and Punishment, The Grapes of Wrath, Heart of Darkness, The Catcher in
the Rye, The Brothers Karamazov, Les Misérables.

“Whoa. What sparked this classic literature binge?”

“I suddenly felt the urge to revisit them. I checked them out from the library,” Reid grinned.
“I read some of these back in high school,” Morgan said, scanning the titles.

“Let me guess—you read them when you were ten?”

“No... I was nine.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. He picked up Crime and Punishment and settled next to
Reid, opening the book.

After a while, Reid suddenly said,

“Morgan. Adam is back.”

“Really?” Morgan looked up, surprised. “Wow, that’s great! Your hard work paid off.”

“Yeah,” Reid smiled weakly.

“Are you going to see him?”

“Yes, I’ll submit my evaluation and testify in court.”

Morgan nodded, studying his friend.

“Why are you crying?”

Reid didn’t respond. Instead, more tears streamed down his face.

“Reid. Are you okay?”

“I’m... grieving.”

“...over losing Amanda?”

Reid nodded. “I will miss her.”

Morgan was a little surprised to hear Reid say that.

“She existed only to protect Adam. He doesn’t even know. But I do. I know what she went
through. I know who she was.”

Tears continued to flow down Reid’s cheeks.

“Reid... don’t cry.”

Morgan wiped Reid’s tears with his thumb. and slowly embraced him. Reid wrapped his arms
around Morgan’s waist and cried. Morgan let Reid grieve in his embrace until he was
satisfied.

Once he quieted, Morgan took his book and read it to him, while his head rested on Morgan’s
chest. Cloony shifted slightly but remained content at their feet.
 The Anthrax Case(1)
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 4, Episode 24. It's May, 2009. Reid is 27,
Morgan is 35.

It was Sunday, and Morgan and Reid were having brunch at Le Pain Quotidien, a popular
bakery and café in DC. The cozy outdoor seating made it the perfect spot to soak up the
spring weather.

“Your hair is getting long,” Morgan remarked, glancing at Reid.

“You sure like to talk about my hair, huh?” Reid replied, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” Morgan said, frowning. “I haven’t—except just now.”

“Three months ago, you mentioned my hair was getting curlier, and almost a year ago on the
jet, you asked what happened to my straight hair.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Your eidetic memory is sometimes annoying.”

“You don’t need eidetic memory for that,” Reid chuckled.

After a moment, Morgan reached out and tugged gently at the ends of Reid's hair, playfully
stretching the curls.

“And that makes it 132 times you’ve touched my hair.”

“Are you counting?” Morgan’s eyes widened, a little freaked out.

“Not intentionally. I can’t help it. It's almost automatic.”

“There’s no way I’ve touched your hair that many times.”

“You have. And you’ve kissed my cheek 38 times. That means you like touching my hair
247.37% more than kissing me.”

Morgan made a cringe face. “If you ever have a girlfriend, don’t do that to her. That’s way
too creepy.”

Ignoring him, Reid smirked. “Want to know how many times you’ve told me you love me or
showed up at my place unannounced?”

“I’d rather know how many times you’ve been turned on thinking about me.”
Reid blushed and fell silent, pursing his lips.

“Gotcha,” Morgan grinned.

Just then, Reid’s phone buzzed. “It’s JJ.”

After a brief conversation, Reid sighed. “It’s a case. I bet your phone is about to ring too.”

And it did.

***

Reid and Morgan arrived at work together in Morgan's car.

They ran into Emily at the entrance. She greeted them with a smile. “You two seem to be
always together on the weekends.”

Morgan blushed at the comment, while Reid couldn’t resist a quick lesson. “Not always,
Emily. The term ‘always’ implies a frequency of 100%. If something happens ‘always,’ it
occurs every time without exception.”

A flicker of regret crossed Emily's face as Reid continued, “In the past month, we’ve spent 45
hours together out of a possible 192 weekend hours. That’s about 23.4%, which technically
falls under ‘rarely.’”

“I see,” Emily replied, her expression blank.

Morgan pondered this. “So we ‘rarely’ spend time together on the weekends? That doesn’t
sound right. It should at least be ‘often’ or ‘sometimes.’”

Reid jumped in, eager to clarify. “Approximate frequency percentages are: Usually:70-89%,
Often:50-69%, Sometimes:30-49%, and Rarely:10-29%.”

Emily rolled her eyes, silently wishing she could escape the elevator ride filled with the two
of them dissecting their weekend togetherness.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go bag,” Reid remarked as they stepped out.

As the three agents emerged, their eyes widened in disbelief at the chaotic scene unfolding
around them.

“What’s the army doing here?” Morgan asked, bewildered.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily echoed, her voice nearly in sync with Morgan’s.

The floor was teeming with soldiers in U.S. Army uniforms, their voices a mix of urgent
discussions and commands. Tension hung thick in the air, and a sense of urgency permeated
the scene as unfamiliar faces hurried about, clearly in the midst of a critical operation.
JJ found the three agents and called them into Hotchner’s office.

“Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC.”

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” Dr. Kimura said, her tone somber.

JJ began the briefing, her voice tense. “Last night, 25 people checked into emergency rooms
in Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2 p.m. yesterday. Within ten hours, the first
victim died. Now, just past 7 a.m. the next day, we have 12 dead.”

Morgan studied the photos, his brow furrowing. “Lung failure and black lesions. Anthrax?”

“Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast. Is this a new strain?” Reid asked, alarm creeping into his
voice.

Dr. Kimura nodded.

“Are we telling the public? We’d have a mass exodus,” Morgan questioned Hotch.

“There’s a media blackout,” Hotch replied.

“What do we know about this strain?” Reid pressed Dr. Kimura.

“The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respirable size that targets deep in the lungs. We
don’t know how to combat the toxins once they’re inside,” she explained.

Hotch issued orders. “Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital and interview the victims.
Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll accompany a hazmat team to the crime scene.”

Dr. Kimura distributed small cups containing several pills. “Everyone needs to take Cipro. It's
a precautionary antibiotic to prevent Bacillus anthracis from multiplying and spreading.”

The team exchanged determined looks before swallowing the pills.

***

Dr. Kimura led Reid to one of the patients who had been at the park in Annapolis yesterday.
The patient struggled to articulate her memories, words slipping through her grasp.

“It was warm... windy. There were guys... football. Kids... I see free... Me seen fee me. Free
knee. S... sin knee. Me mock fee key me free.”

As they left the room, Reid asked Dr. Kimura. “What’s causing her aphasia?”

“The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech. Some of the other patients
displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died.”

“None of the drug combinations are working?”

“The only thing helping them right now is morphine.”

***

At the park, a man in hazmat gear approached Morgan and Emily.

“Hot zone and all surrounding areas have been neutralized. You’re safe here,” he said.

“Thank you,” Morgan replied, scanning the area.

“There was a prevailing wind out of the northeast yesterday. Airborne spores scattered that
way, affecting everyone below.”

Prentiss tilted her head. “This park doesn’t scream ‘target’ to me. Terrorists usually go for
symbols.”

Morgan nodded. “The location is symbolically insignificant, which suggests the attack was
personal.”

After finishing their observations, Emily asked, “So what were you two up to this morning?”

“We were having brunch at a bakery.”

“Ha! That’s... adorable.”

“Thanks,” Morgan grinned.

“Are you still keeping it a brotherly, non-sexual relationship?”

“Mm-hmm,” Morgan nodded.

Emily shook her head, amusement in her eyes.

***

The team developed a profile of the unsub.

He is likely from the science or defense community, convinced that his work holds immense
importance. He operates in a private workspace where he creates his product, utilizing
industrial-grade equipment accessible at his job. Having previously blown the whistle on
threats of anthrax attacks only to be ignored and subsequently demoted, this dismissal
triggered his actions.

The team identified Dr. Lawrence Nichols, a former military scientist, as a strong match for
their profile.

“Dave, you and Prentiss head to Dr. Nichols’ office. Morgan, pull Reid from the hospital and
go to his home.” Hotch ordered.

***

Reid and Morgan arrived at Dr. Nichols’ residence.

“This guy just had people over for a charity event last month,” Morgan remarked as he
walked further into the yard.

Reid replied, “We should probably take a look around anyway. Ow!” He winced as he cut his
hand on a shrub, shaking it to alleviate the sting.

Morgan whipped around. “You okay? Let me see.”

He took Reid’s hand and inspected the small cut. “It’s bleeding a little.”

“Morgan, I’m fine,” Reid said, rolling his eyes.

Just then, Morgan’s phone beeped. “Yeah, Prentiss, what’s up? We’re here now. Sorry,
what?” The sound of a sprinkler was distracting him. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear.
“Uh-huh. Yeah, all right.”

When he hung up, he realized Reid was no longer in sight. “Reid? Reid!”

Morgan scanned the yard but couldn’t find him, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach.

“Reid! Reid!!”

He dashed into the house. “Reid!!”

***

Reid stepped into the house first, assuming Morgan would follow closely behind.

Inside, he discovered a lab. As he ventured further, his gaze fell on a broken test tube on the
floor.

A cloud of white powder swirled in the air.

Panic surged through him as numbers and calculations raced through his mind. He realized he
had been exposed and inhaled a potentially fatal dose of anthrax. With immediate treatment,
his survival rate was around 60% or lower.

“Reid? Reid! Reid!!”

Suddenly, Morgan’s voice echoed from outside, snapping Reid back to reality.

Morgan!

He slammed the door shut and shouted, “Morgan, get back! Get back!! Get out of here!”

“What are you doing? What’s wrong?” Morgan yelled, trying to pull the door open.

“No, don’t!”

“Reid, what’s wrong?!”

“Believe me, get back.”

“Reid, open the door!”

“I’m sorry.”

Morgan’s eyes widened as he noticed the broken test tube on the floor, and he began to panic.
“Reid!! Open the door!! Reid!!”

Morgan banged on the glass.

Reid could see the fear and desperation in Morgan’s eyes, and he felt a rising anxiety that
Morgan might try to break through the door.

“Morgan, listen. Please.” Reid exhaled slowly, shifting to a calmer tone. “Sorry for alarming
you. But the label on the broken test tube says Sterne strain. This strain of Bacillus anthracis
is attenuated and has reduced virulence—typically used for vaccination.”

Morgan stared at him, skeptical. But Reid held his gaze, speaking with conviction. “It’s not
lethal, Morgan. Trust me. The Cipro pills we took earlier are enough to neutralize this amount
of Bacillus anthracis.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a PhD in chemistry. I know what I’m talking about. Don’t worry, Morgan. Trust me
on this.”

Reid was surprised at how well he pulled off the lie; Morgan looked almost convinced.

“Then let me in,” Morgan insisted.

“I can’t open the door—just in case there’s something else in here.”

“Then come out,” Morgan urged.

“No. I’m staying here.”

“No, you’re not, Reid!” Morgan shouted.

“If Nichols created the strain, he likely developed a cure as well. I want to find it to save
lives. Let me do my job.”

Reid’s calm demeanor began to soothe Morgan, but he couldn’t take any chances. “Reid,
come out. Please.”

“I will. Soon.”

Reid turned away from the door.

 The Anthrax Case(2)

Reid's heart pounded in his chest.

How many hours do I have?

Less than an hour before symptoms begin to manifest. Then it would deteriorate rapidly:
coughing, sweating, severe chest pain, followed by immobility and loss of speech. He
blinked rapidly, his breathing quickening. Focus. Spencer, focus, he reminded himself.

He began rummaging through the files and documents. He wasn’t lying when he said he
wanted to find the cure; it had to be here somewhere.

***

The BAU quickly learned what had happened to Reid, and Hotch and Rossi rushed to the
scene alongside the CDC team. Morgan was clearly distressed.

The CDC team had secured a gray zone outside the door as part of their protocol, which kept
Morgan from getting close to Reid.

“We’ll find Dr. Reid, clean him up, and get him in the ambulance fast,” Dr. Kimura ordered
her team.

“Reid took Cipro today, so he's gotta be okay, right?” Morgan asked Dr. Kimura, craving
confirmation.

“It’s not helping the patients at the hospital,” Dr. Kimura replied apologetically.

“Yeah, but they didn’t take it until after they were exposed. Reid took it before.”

“Yes, but we’ve never tested this strain on a Cipro-ready subject. We just don’t know.”

“But…”

Reid sounded confident. Morgan knew Reid was smarter than anyone in the CDC; chemistry
was one of his specialties. Still, concern gnawed at him.

“I should have been right there with him,” Morgan murmured, distress evident in his voice.

“Morgan, there’s no time for second-guessing. What do we know?” Hotch urged.

Morgan recounted what he had seen and what Reid had told him.

Hotch called Reid. “Reid.”

“Hotch, I really messed up this time,” Reid’s voice was shaky.

“Did you tell Morgan that the strain you were exposed to was attenuated and not lethal?”

“Yes. I lied. He could have broken the door, Hotch.”

“I understand.” Hotch glanced at Morgan.

“Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch said urgently.

“I’m already exposed. If Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure. My
best chance is to stay here and see if there’s a cure.”

Hotch sighed, recognizing the truth in Reid’s words. “I agree. We’re gonna get a suit and
mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother. It won’t do me any good. I’m already infected.” Reid's eyes remained fixed on
the document before him.

***

Garcia couldn’t help but keep digging for information about the strain they were dealing
with. “This thing killed the first three victims within hours, JJ,” her voice trembled.

JJ replied, frustration creeping in. “Garcia, stop. Please. I can’t think about it that way. He
took Cipro. He’s got help. He’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m not good at this part. Every time you guys go away, I… I know you’re in all kinds of
danger, and all I can do is sit here in my bubble, hoping and praying for my babies to come
back to me. I try to stay positive, but… I don’t know how to do this.” Tears streamed down
Garcia’s face.

JJ placed a comforting hand on Garcia’s shoulder. “Garcia, he will come back to us.”

Soon after JJ left the room, the phone rang—it was from Reid. Garcia quickly wiped her
tears.

“Hey, Reid.”

“Gee, wow, no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Reid joked softly.

Garcia managed a weak smile. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you’re where you are.”

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I, uh... know I can’t call my mom right now, so I need you to record a message for her in
case… anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s gonna happen to you. You’re gonna brilliantly find the cure, and we’ll treat
this strain,” Garcia said cheerfully.
Reid exhaled, a soft smile touching his lips. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just… I
really want to make sure she hears my voice.”

“Okay. Just give me a second.”

“Are you ready?”

“Ready,” Garcia said, her voice shaky.

Reid spoke slowly, his voice choked. “Hi, mom. This is Spencer. I just, um... I just... really
want you to know that I love you, and I need you to know that I spend every day of my life
proud to be your son.”

In the background, Reid heard Dr. Kimura’s tense orders to her team: “Prep the victim for
transfer.”

“I gotta go,” Reid said, hanging up the phone.

“Dr. Reid.” Dr. Kimura rushed into the room, clad in a hazmat suit.

“You look nice,” Reid teased.

Dr. Kimura offered a subtle smile, fully aware that Reid was experiencing severe chest pain.

“How are… how are the patients doing?” Reid asked, his face pale. He coughed, wincing in
pain.

“Let’s focus on you,” Dr. Kimura replied. “I can give you something to ease the pain.”

“No, I… I’d rather not take any pain medication.”

“We can at least make you feel more comfortable,” Dr. Kimura insisted, knowing the severity
of his condition.

“I am comfortable, and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” Reid said firmly.

Dr. Kimura nodded. “Okay. Tell me how I can help.”

Reid explained that the cure would likely be protected and hidden in plain sight—look for
something innocuous, something you wouldn’t suspect.

After about ten minutes, Dr. Kimura rushed back to Reid, holding up an inhaler. “Dr. Reid,
you mentioned the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about
Nichols’ inhaler?”

Using biosensors, Dr. Kimura detected some type of antibiotics within it.

Reid nodded, relief flooding through him. “This must be it.”

“Alright. Let’s get you out of here.”

***

Hotch received the news from Rossi and Emily: they had taken Dr. Nichols into custody in
his office lab.

“I’ll stay here with Reid,” Morgan said. Hotch nodded and left the scene.

When he learned that Reid was finally out of the house, Morgan rushed to the temporary
decontamination zone. The area was enclosed with transparent curtains, where Dr. Kimura
and a few colleagues in hazmat suits were hosing him down, water cascading over his
clothes.

Seeing Reid drenched from head to toe, Morgan let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Reid.”

“Hey, Morgan.”

“How are you feeling, kid?”

“I’ve seen better days,” Reid replied, shivering slightly under the spray.

Morgan smiled.

Just then, his phone beeped.

“Hotch. Yeah, they’re hosing him down now. Yes. All right.”

Morgan hung up and turned back to Reid. “They’ll interrogate Dr. Nichols.”

“Go help Hotch,” Reid urged.

“Hotch has plenty of people on it.”

“He needs you more than I do.”

“Reid, I'm gonna see you off to the hospital,” Morgan insisted.

“I'm about to get naked so they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to
see?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Uh... I’ll check on you later.”

Reid smirked at him.

“Take good care of him, please,” Morgan said to Dr. Kimura before stepping away.

Dr. Kimura constantly checked the time. The inhaler had already been sent to the lab. Even if
it was the cure, Dr. Reid might not make it. The strain duplicated every 30 to 45 minutes,
poisoning his lungs and causing massive hemorrhaging and organ failure. Time was running
out.
Then Dr. Kimura noticed something on Reid’s hand that made her go pale. “Dr. Reid, did you
cut yourself?”

***

Within half an hour, Reid’s condition had rapidly declined.

In the cramped ambulance, Dr. Kimura leaned over Reid, who lay on a stretcher surrounded
by tubes and medical equipment. Reid coughed, his eyes red and his skin glistening with
sweat.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?” Dr. Kimura asked softly.

“My throat’s a little dry. But other than that, I feel... fleef... feel fin. I...f...”

“Dr. Reid, it’s okay,” Dr. Kimura said, placing a reassuring hand on his chest. She turned to
the driver. “Faster, please.”

Reid coughed again, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Dr. Kimura...”

“Yes, Dr. Reid?”

“Call... call...”

Reid’s voice faded as he began to lose consciousness.

“Who? Who do you want me to call, Dr. Reid?” she pressed.

“Morgan...”

“Agent Morgan?”

Reid blinked in response instead of nodding.

“Okay.”

Dr. Kimura hurriedly grabbed her phone.

“Agent Morgan? This is Dr. Kimura. Dr. Reid wants to talk to you.”

She pressed the phone to Reid’s ear. “Dr. Reid. Agent Morgan is on the line.”

“Reid, you there?” Morgan’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Reid’s consciousness flickered back to life at the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Morgan... I love you.”

“What? Reid!”
“Morgan, I... I love you.”

In that brief moment, Morgan grasped the gravity of Reid’s condition.

“Reid! Reid!! I love you, too! I love you, too!”

Hotch spun around to Morgan, his eyes widening.

Dr. Kimura brought the phone to her ear. “Agent Morgan, Dr. Reid has lost consciousness.”

“Doctor, what’s going on?!”

“His condition has deteriorated suddenly due to a cutaneous infection. It’s a dual exposure.
We have to go. We’ll do everything we can.”

Morgan stood frozen, his breathing fast and sweat trickling down his face.

“Morgan, what’s happening?” Hotch asked, concern etched on his features.

“Hotch, I... I need to go... I need to go.”

Hotch nodded. “I’ll drive you to the hospital. I can’t let you drive like this.”
 The Anthrax Case(3)

Hotch glanced at Morgan in the passenger seat. Morgan stared out the window, unmoving.
The usual confidence and toughness he exuded were gone, replaced by a face that seemed on
the verge of tears.

Hotch remembered seeing Morgan like this before—over two years ago, when Reid had been
taken and tortured by Tobias Hankel. Morgan had been unable to look at the screen, standing
behind everyone like a helpless child.

“Hotch...”

Morgan whispered without turning his head.

“Yeah?”

“He lied to me about the attenuated strain, didn’t he?” His voice was raspy, barely audible.

“Yes. He tried to protect you.”

“Oh God...” Morgan’s voice trembled as he began to sob. “If anything happens to him...”

Hotch placed a hand on Morgan’s shaking shoulder. “Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t... I can’t lose him. I can’t live without him.” Morgan covered his face, his sobs
becoming more intense and raw.”

Hotch struggled to find the right words. No amount of encouragement or consolation would
reach him now.

“Pray. Have faith,” Hotch said softly.

***

Dr. Kimura rushed over to them.

“Agent Morgan, Agent Hotchner.”

“How’s Reid?” Hotch asked urgently.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Kimura replied.

Hotch placed a reassuring hand on Morgan’s shoulder as Morgan exhaled deeply, closing his
eyes.

Dr. Kimura continued, “We found the cure in the inhaler. It’s a modified antibiotic that
enhances the immune response.”
“Can you administer it to Reid?” Hotch inquired.

Dr. Kimura nodded. “The advanced emergency protocols allowed us to use the antibiotic on
Dr. Reid immediately. We’ll just have to see if his body can recover.”

Then Dr. Kimura turned to Morgan. “Agent Morgan, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were in a
relationship with Dr. Reid. I should have contacted you first.”

Morgan was still too overwhelmed to respond, so Hotch stepped in. “It’s okay. Thank you,
Dr. Kimura.”

***

The team gathered enough evidence from Lawrence Nichols’ office and home, leading to his
arrest.

Throughout the night, Morgan stayed right by Reid's side, refusing to leave. Dr. Kimura
instructed the staff to set up a cot for Morgan to rest on.

Every hour or so, Dr. Kimura checked on Reid, each visit making her seem a bit more relaxed
and reassured.

Morgan hardly moved. He gently stroked Reid's face, kissing his cheek repeatedly, or he
clasped Reid’s hand tightly, his thoughts filled with silent prayers.

At last, exhaustion overtook Morgan. He leaned forward, resting his head on his arm, still
holding Reid's hand in his own.

***

The next morning, Dr. Kimura entered with updates and smiled at Morgan.

“His recovery is progressing very well. He should regain consciousness today. You can rest
assured.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked.

“Uh... I asked my colleague to bring me food and clothes,” he replied, then added, “I want to
be here when he wakes up.”

Dr. Kimura nodded, still smiling. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see you.”

“You heard him say he loves me, right?”

“Yes. I was right beside him.”

“That was the first time he ever said it.”

“Really?” Dr. Kimura raised an eyebrow, glancing at Reid and recalling the moment, her eyes
misting slightly.

“Let’s see what he says first when he sees you,” she teased, composing herself.

In the afternoon, Reid finally woke up.

“Jell-o? You’re eating jell-o?” was the first thing he said upon seeing Morgan.

“Hey, kid.” Morgan grinned, then called for Dr. Kimura. “Hey, Doc. Look who’s back.”

Reid grimaced slightly as he tried to sit up. “Is there any more jell-o?”

Dr. Kimura laughed. “Hey, not so fast.”

She shot a teasing look at Morgan, who shrugged.

Just then, a voice filled with excitement rang out from behind, “You’re awake!” Garcia
walked in, clicking her high heels while carrying a bouquet, a cake box, and several paper
bags.

She dumped her things on Morgan, placed the bouquet and cake by the bedside, and turned to
Reid, whispering, “Oh my baby.” Ignoring Reid's frown as he responded with “baby...?” she
planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“I was so worried,” Garcia said, her expression serious.

“I know. I’m sorry for making you worry,” Reid replied gently.

“I never want to record your message again,” Garcia said, her eyes welling with tears as she
fanned herself with her hands.

Then she turned to Morgan, kissed his cheek, and said, “Don’t be jealous; I love you too.”

Morgan chuckled.

A few hours later, JJ, Emily, Hotch, and Rossi arrived together, making the hospital room
lively. Garcia said, “Morgan, you’ve spent the most time with Reid, so step aside.”

Emily smiled at Morgan, who looked a bit sulky, and asked if he wanted to go grab some
coffee.

“You look relieved,” she noted.

“Yeah, I am,” Morgan sighed.

“When I heard Reid's voice on the phone, I really thought I was losing him. I never want to
go through that again.”
Emily gently rubbed Morgan’s back, offering silent support.

“He...he told me that he loves me,” Morgan looked at Emily and smiled a little shyly.

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” she asked, hugging him and exclaiming, “Hey,
I’m so happy for you.” Morgan blushed.

“So what now?” Emily asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you finally going to graduate from platonic brotherly love?”

“I don't know. Right now, I’m just overwhelmed with relief that he’s okay.”

Emily smiled and nodded.

***

After everyone left, Reid asked Morgan a few questions about the arrest of Lawrence
Nichols, the modified antibiotic, and the prognosis for the other patients. He looked relieved.

After a moment of silence, Reid said, “Morgan... I’m sorry I lied about the strain.”

Morgan placed his hand on Reid’s and replied warmly, “It’s okay.”

They exchanged a subtle smile, unsure of what else to say.

Reid began reading one of the books Rossi had brought for him, while Morgan found himself
transfixed by Reid’s face, unable to look away. Reid occasionally glanced up, feeling
awkward under Morgan's steady gaze.

Finally Reid sighed and turned to Morgan, his cheeks flushing. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Just... glad you’re safe,” Morgan replied sincerely.

Reid reached for the Rubik’s Cube that Garcia had brought and handed it to Morgan. “Can
you do this?”

“I actually can, you know,” Morgan said with a grin. Reid raised an eyebrow.

“You don't believe me?” Morgan challenged, beginning to twist the cube. “I learned the
algorithm a while back.”

Four minutes later, he presented the completed cube to Reid.

“Good job,” Reid beamed.

Morgan took it back, scrambled it quickly, and then handed it to Reid. “Your turn.”
Reid examined the cube, his eyes darting across the colorful sides. Morgan could sense him
visualizing the mechanics at work.

Then, with astonishing speed, Reid’s fingers began to move—twisting and turning, flipping
the cube, aligning the colors, and adjusting the layers.

In about ten seconds, the last side clicked into place. Reid grinned at Morgan.

“I hate geniuses,” Morgan mumbled, pouting.

Reid chuckled, then scrambled the cube again and handed it back to Morgan.

Dr. Kimura observed the two agents through the window, intrigued. They took turns solving a
Rubik's Cube, engaged in a silent exchange as they passed the cube back and forth.

Finally, Agent Morgan leaned closer and said something to Dr. Reid. They both chuckled,
setting the cube aside. After a moment, Morgan reached out and gently touched Reid's cheek,
eliciting a faint blush.

Feeling warm inside, Dr. Kimura smiled and quietly stepped away.
 The First Kiss
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 4, Episode 24. It's May, 2009. Reid is 27,
Morgan is 35.

For the next two days after Reid was discharged from the hospital, BAU members came and
went, checking in on him at his apartment.

On the third day, Morgan took a half day off and brought Reid out for a light stroll.

Reid felt butterflies in his stomach from the moment he woke up. He shaved and washed his
face, then brushed his teeth thoroughly. Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a
nervous sigh.

Morgan woke before his alarm, going for a jog and taking a quick shower afterward. He put
on a black t-shirt, then changed his mind for a blue one instead. As he looked at himself in
the mirror, he exhaled nervously—he had never felt this anxious about going on a date
before.

Reid spotted Morgan outside his apartment building, and his heart raced. He took a moment
to gather himself.

“Hey,” Morgan greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi,” Reid replied, shyly returning the smile.

They walked along the path in East Potomac Park, retracing steps from two months ago,
when the cherry blossoms had just begun to bloom. Now, in mid-May, the trees were full of
leaves, but the air still held the freshness of spring.

As they strolled further, they reached a spot overlooking the wide expanse of the Potomac
River. Leaning against the fence, they were enveloped in an awkward silence. Finally,
Morgan broke it.

“You're quiet.”

“So are you.”

“Usually, you’re the one who talks non-stop.”

Reid didn’t respond, and the silence fell again.

“Reid,” gathering his courage, Morgan turned to face Reid. He caught a glimpse of Reid’s
tense profile.

“Yeah?” Reid replied, without looking up.

Morgan’s heart raced as he watched Reid’s fingers fidget, the way his brow furrowed slightly.
The sight sent a wave of nervousness crashing over Morgan, causing him to swallow hard.

“Stop making me so nervous,” Morgan said, rubbing his face.

“I’m not doing anything,” Reid protested.

“You’re swallowing.”

“You are, too.”

Morgan took a deep breath.

“Do you remember what you said before you passed out?”

“I remember.” Reid whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I said...I said I love you.” Reid’s cheeks flushed as he finally met Morgan’s gaze.

A lump formed in Morgan’s throat. “Can you say it again?” he asked softly.

Reid nervously wet his lips and looked at Morgan.

“I love you.”

The words were barely a whisper, laced with vulnerability.

Morgan was momentarily speechless, emotions swirling within him. After a few seconds, he
pulled Reid into a warm embrace. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few moments.

“Isn't this supposed to be a kissing moment?” Reid mumbled into Morgan’s shoulder.

“Yes... It is. Just... uh... wait.”

Finally, Morgan pulled back and gazed at Reid. “Reid, I—” he began, but Reid could no
longer bear the tension. “Just kiss me already,” he urged, his voice a mix of impatience and
longing.

Morgan smiled shyly and gently cupped Reid’s face. The warmth of his palm sent shivers
down Reid’s spine. He noticed that Morgan’s hands were slightly shaking as he brushed his
thumb across Reid's cheek.

Slowly, Morgan leaned in, their faces inches apart. Reid closed his eyes. He could feel
Morgan’s breath against his lips.

Their lips met. Instantly they melted into each other. They kissed softly at first, a tentative
exploration that spoke of the years of longing and uncertainty.

Soon their kiss deepened, evolving into something more fierce and urgent, igniting a rush of
emotions. Morgan pressed his lips against Reid’s with a desperate intensity. ”M...Mm...“
Moans escaped from Reid’s lips.

Reid's hands settled on Morgan's back as their kiss continued, a mix of sweetness and
urgency, as if they were trying to reclaim all the moments they had missed.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless and a little dazed. They rested their
foreheads together, smiles breaking across their faces.

Morgan let out a shaky laugh. “Wow. That was… nice.”

“Nice?” Reid teased with a grin. “That’s an understatement.”

Morgan smiled, his cheeks flushed with warmth. “Okay, it was amazing.”

They lingered in each other’s embrace, letting the happiness wash over them. “I love you,
Spencer,” Morgan whispered. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Me too,” Reid whispered back.

 Boyfriend
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 4, Episode 24. It's May, 2009. Reid is 27,
Morgan is 35.

Morgan had to return to work in the afternoon. As he drove Reid home, he asked, “Can I
come over tonight after work?”

Reid looked flustered. “Wh-why?”

“Why? Why not?” Morgan frowned, surprised.

“What... what are we gonna do?” Reid’s face flushed.

“Reid... ” Morgan sighed. “You think all I'm thinking now is to push you down on the bed?”

“It's not?”

“No,” Morgan let out a disbelieving laugh. “I actually wanna talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Us.”

“Us? What’s there to talk about?”

“Reid, I have to go.” Morgan glanced at his watch.

“Okay. Bye, Morgan.” Reid reached for the door handle.

“Reid.”

“What?”

Reid turned around, and Morgan leaned in, his hand resting on the back of Reid's neck as he
kissed him briefly but passionately. “I love you.”

“Uh... I love you too,” Reid said bashfully.

He opened the car door and, still flustered from the kiss, began walking in the opposite
direction. After a few steps, he realized and turned back.

Morgan chuckled at the sight.

***

Reid opened the door, ushering Morgan inside.

Morgan couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. With his thick glasses and longish hair tucked behind
his ears, Reid stood there, arms crossed, radiating an endearingly nerdy vibe.

“Why are you smirking?” Reid asked, annoyance in his voice.

“You just… sometimes look really dorky,” Morgan teased, a grin spreading across his face.
“It’s a compliment, I promise.”

Reid frowned, his lips pouting.

“Can we talk?” Morgan asked, still chuckling.

“Sure,” Reid replied, leading the way to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee.”

After a few moments, he set two steaming cups on the coffee table, and they settled onto the
sofa. Reid appeared more relaxed now, the tension easing from his shoulders.

“Okay, first things first. We need to disclose our relationship to our Unit Chief.”

“You mean Hotch?”

“Mm-hmm. He already knows, but the policy requires an official disclosure.”

“He knows?”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “Well, let’s see—I did shout ‘I love you’ into the phone right in front
of him. So, yeah, he might have an idea.”

“You did? When?”

“When you told me you loved me. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I must have passed out before I heard it.”

“Well, you missed out on something. I can’t sound that desperate again.”

Reid pouted. “How did you say it? I want to hear it.”

“I can’t replay that moment,” Morgan laughed.

Reid gazed at Morgan, imagining the scene. He could totally picture Morgan shouting "I love
you" into the phone, desperate and tearful.

“I also told Hotch I couldn’t live without you—while crying,” Morgan murmured, suddenly
embarrassed by the memory of Hotch witnessing his meltdown.
Hearing this, Reid felt a surge of affection. He reached out, cupping Morgan’s face, and
kissed him gently. Morgan responded, their warmth and sweetness enveloping them as they
kissed, struggling to pull away.

Before things got too intense, they paused, both panting slightly.

“Um…” Reid cleared his throat, pushing his hair behind his ear in an attempt to compose
himself. “What was that?”

Morgan smiled sweetly at him and pulled out a thin booklet. “Do you remember this? ‘BAU
Personnel Manual: Code of Conduct’?”

He flipped through the pages, then looked up. “Hey, actually, you could just tell me what it
says about dating. You read it when you joined the BAU, right? It’s stored in your eidetic
memory, isn’t it?”

“I skipped that dating part. I never thought it would be relevant to me.” He chuckled. “I
wonder how I’d react if I’d known I’d be dating Derek Morgan.”

Morgan laughed too. “Yeah, I’d love to tell young Derek and see his reaction.”

“They wouldn’t believe us.”

The two agents shared a laugh before reading the manual together in silence. Finally, Reid
summarized, “BAU prohibits dating between agents if one has supervisory authority over the
other.”

“Which we don’t,” Morgan noted. Reid nodded, continuing.

“We need to adhere to the guidelines, maintain professionalism, and avoid conflicts of
interest.”

“It requires disclosure of the relationship,” Morgan pointed out.

“Do we really have to talk to the Unit Chief and Section Chief? Does it need to be this
official?” Reid sighed, stress creeping into his voice.

“Yes, Reid. We work for the federal bureau. It’s important we follow the rules.” Morgan
sighed too. “You start tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s talk to Hotch first thing.”

“Aghh…” Reid leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I really don’t want to…”

Morgan patted Reid’s head softly. “I’ll do the talking.”

Reid paused, considering something else. “What if you get promoted? We can’t work in the
same department.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s a possibility, and neither of us wants to leave BAU.”

“I would,” Morgan said without hesitation, surprising Reid.

“You’d leave?”

“I mean, if that’s the only option to be with you.”

“Seriously?”

“Reid, I almost lost you. I told God I’d give up everything if He saved your life.”

Reid looked at Morgan, astonished. He wasn’t sure if he could give up his job for Morgan.

Morgan closed the manual and tucked it back into his bag.

“And, um… on a more personal level,” Morgan said, turning to Reid, “do you remember
when I said I wanted you to explore relationships? That you could date anyone you wanted?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Not anymore,” Morgan declared. “I’m officially your boyfriend.”

“Geez, talk about a possessive boyfriend,” Reid teased, feeling a little freaked out. “Is this
how you start a relationship?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “No, you’re the first person I’m serious about.”

Reid widened his eyes slightly, and smiled.

After a moment, Reid asked, glancing away from Morgan, “Are you staying tonight?”

“Can I?”

“Yeah.” Reid answered, still not meeting his gaze.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I do,” Reid admitted, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. “I always do. But…” He
hesitated, then continued, “If you’re planning to do something, just let me know in advance
so I can mentally prepare.”

“Planning?” Morgan asked, confusion flickering across his face. “Reid… can you be more
specific?”

“Like… like... touching me?” Reid wet his lips nervously.

Morgan’s heart raced as he studied Reid, trying to decipher what was going through his mind.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

“I do.”

Reid finally met Morgan’s gaze and saw the confusion on his friend’s face. “I’m just not as
confident about my body as you are.”

Morgan noticed Reid’s flushed cheeks and felt a strong urge to strip him down, kiss him all
over, and tell him how beautiful he was. He forced himself out of the daydream.

“Reid, it’s only been three days since you were discharged from the hospital. Can we just
hold hands and sleep tonight?” Morgan asked gently.

“Yeah, I like that.” Reid smiled, looking a little relieved.

***

After knocking, Reid and Morgan entered Hotch’s office. He was on the phone, gesturing for
them to sit and wait.

Reid fidgeted nervously with his hands, while Morgan wore a determined expression.

Once Hotch hung up, he turned to face the two agents.

“Hotch, we need to talk to you about—” Morgan began, but Hotch raised a hand to stop him.

Leaning forward with a slight smile, Hotch asked, “Are you two involved romantically?”

Reid and Morgan exchanged quick glances.

“That sounds familiar…” Reid said, raising an eyebrow, prompting a chuckle from Morgan.

“I’ve suspected this was coming since I asked you that same question two and a half years
ago.”

Hotch smiled. Then, His tone shifted to something more serious. “Just remember, this is a
professional environment. Your relationship is part of your lives, but it can’t interfere with
the job.”

Both agents nodded in agreement.

“We’ll keep it professional,” Morgan assured him.

“I need to emphasize something, especially to you, Derek. Last time Reid was in danger, you
were a mess. You need to stay calm, no matter the situation.”

“I know. I’ll do better. I promise,” Morgan replied.

Hotch studied both men for a moment, his expression softening. “Good. I trust you both. Just
remember that the team relies on you to remain focused.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“Alright then, let’s get back to work.”

 Sensitive
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the end of Season 4. It's June 2009, Reid is 27, Morgan is 36.

On the first weekend of June, Morgan returned to Chicago to celebrate his birthday with his
mother and sisters.

“Morgan?”

“Hey, Reid.” Morgan felt butterflies at the sound of Reid’s voice.

“Are you having a good time?” Reid asked.

“Yes. We just finished a lunch buffet, and we’re planning to go to the movies tonight.”

“Sounds like fun,” Reid said with a smile.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m at work, trying to catch up on everything I missed while I was in the hospital.”

“I see.”

After a brief silence, Morgan said, “I miss you.”

“Morgan, you saw me just yesterday.”

“Yeah, but don’t you miss me at all?”

“Not really. You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

Reid could almost see Morgan’s sulky expression, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

“You're smirking,” Morgan accused.

“What? No.” Reid quickly cleared his throat and put on a serious face.

“Can you come to the airport tomorrow to pick me up?” Morgan asked.

“Why?”

“I want to see you as soon as I can.”

Reid sighed. “No, Morgan. I’d rather catch up with my work by Monday.”

“I always picked you up from the airport when you flew to Texas.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Fine.” Morgan’s voice dripped with disappointment.

Reid chuckled.

***

The next evening, Morgan flew back to Arlington, Virginia. He took a cab home from the
airport.

As he approached his house and saw the lights on, warmth and excitement filled him. His
heart raced as he ran up the steps.

Hearing the sound of the cab, Reid opened the door first.

“Hi, Morgan. Sorry I didn’t make it to the airport.”

Morgan dropped his luggage and enveloped Reid in a tight embrace.

“You really don’t need to be so dramatic,” Reid said, a bit taken aback by Morgan’s
enthusiasm.

Morgan smelled Reid’s hair. “Did you just take a shower?”

“What? No, uh, yes, ...maybe.”

Reid mumbled in Morgan’s hold, flustered. He had taken a quick shower before Morgan
arrived, just in case things turned intimate. He just hadn’t expected Morgan to notice it.

Morgan pulled back, oblivious to Reid’s embarrassment. “Did you finish your work?” He
smiled brightly at Reid.

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

“Okay, let’s order something.”

They settled on sushi rolls and green tea for dinner.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Morgan said, watching Reid struggle with his chopsticks.
“You can perform magic, which requires a high level of dexterity. So why do you struggle
with chopsticks?”
“I don’t know. I guess using chopsticks requires a different kind of coordination, while magic
is more about psychological manipulation.”

As he was saying this, a sushi roll slipped from Reid’s chopsticks and fell, prompting Morgan
to laugh.

Sharing dinner like this felt so natural to them that it was just like another Sunday night.

After dinner, Morgan went to fetch Clooney from the neighbor who had taken care of him
while he was in Chicago. When he returned, he disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.
Reid’s heart raced.

Morgan emerged, fully dressed, and settled next to Reid on the sofa as usual. It felt so
familiar. After a shower, Morgan always carried the fresh scent of soap and warm water,
which captivated Reid. Each time, he found himself momentarily fantasizing about kissing
Morgan. But now, he realized he actually could. That thought left Reid flustered.

Morgan noticed Reid’s flushed face. He reached out and gently touched his hair. Then he
leaned in, pressing his lips to Reid’s. Reid responded, kissing Morgan back.

In the silent room, their tender kiss lingered. The soft sound of their lips meeting echoed
around them, stirring their hearts with a thrilling ache.

“Reid... can you take off your shirt?” Morgan whispered, exhaling his desperate longing. “I
just want to feel your skin.”

Reid’s heart leaped. “Okay...”

Reid began to unbutton his shirt, his hands shaking slightly with nervousness.

Morgan noticed and gently covered Reid’s hands with his own.

“Reid, stop. I’m sorry. It’s okay—if you’re not comfortable, just say no.”

“No, Morgan. I’m fine. I’m just... super nervous.”

“I'm not gonna do anything without asking you first. And you can always say no.”

“I know.”

Reid continued to unbutton his shirt, slipping off the sleeves until he was left in a white tank
top. Slowly, he lifted the tank top over his head, revealing his pale, smooth torso. Morgan
swallowed hard, and Reid glanced away, his face flushed.

Morgan slowly removed his own shirt, but Reid couldn’t bring himself to look at his face or
his body.
With gentle caution, Morgan placed his hand on the small of Reid’s back. The light touch
sent shivers through Reid’s nerves, causing his entire body to tremble. “Hm..!” Reid twitched
and gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation.
Morgan slowly embraced Reid. Morgan’s body was incredibly warm. The hard muscles of
Morgan's chest pressed against Reid's skin, making him dizzy.

Morgan tenderly stroked Reid's back, the touch sending an irresistible sensation through
Reid’s nerves, causing his body to twitch involuntarily. “Mm..mm...!” He moaned. Morgan
was bewildered by just how sensitive Reid was.

“Reid, I’m just rubbing your back,” Morgan said softly, but Reid couldn’t help his physical
reaction and kept twitching and moaning. He clutched Morgan’s neck.

When Morgan stopped rubbing his back, Reid leaned against Morgan’s shoulder, breathing
heavily and sweating. Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid tightly. “Oh, Reid... You have
my heart completely.”

Morgan brushed his fingers through Reid’s damp hair. He saw a light sheen of sweat on
Reid’s neck. Driven by the sudden desire to taste him, he leaned in to lick the salty skin at the
nape of Reid's neck. Reid’s body immediately tensed.

“Sorry,” Morgan whispered, pulling back.

Morgan glanced at Reid’s torso and murmured, “Reid, you’re beautiful.”

Reid bit his lip, his face flushing with embarrassment. He struggled to muster the confidence
he wished he had. In his fantasies, he was self-assured and on equal footing, but in the
presence of Morgan’s shirtless form, he couldn’t even bring himself to meet his gaze.

Especially with Morgan’s chiseled chest before him—muscles defined and beautiful. The
reality of it all was overwhelming, and suddenly, everything he had imagined was right there,
his to behold.

Reid felt torn between the desire to trust Morgan and the instinct to shield his heart.

“I think I need a shower. I’m sweating,” he mumbled.

“Alright.” Morgan smiled softly and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

They slept side by side, their arms gently touching. Morgan felt a deep sense of satisfaction
as he gazed at Reid’s peaceful face. The realization that all he had done was lightly touch
Reid’s back made him chuckle softly, warmth spreading through his heart.
 Birthday Letter
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the end of Season 4. It's June 2009, Reid is 27, Morgan is 36.

Reid let out another sigh, and JJ caught it—his third sigh of the day.

“Spence, what's going on?” she asked.

“JJ, it’s the 6th. Morgan’s birthday.”

“Oh, right. I completely forgot.”

“And I still don’t know what to do,” Reid admitted, glancing around to ensure Morgan wasn’t
nearby.

“Did you ask him what he wants?”

“I tried three times, but each time he just said he wanted to spend time with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” JJ said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“But we already spend time together all the time,” Reid replied, with a hint of frustration.

“Why not write him a letter? You write to your mom every day, right?” JJ suggested.

Reid raised his eyebrows, considering it. “That might be a good idea. I’ve never written him
one before.”

JJ encouraged, “Write him a heartfelt letter expressing your love and appreciation.” Then she
added teasingly, “I’m sure your boyfriend would love it.”

Reid smiled, “Thanks, JJ.”

***

Garcia and Emily picked up a chocolate birthday cake for Morgan, and the team gathered
briefly in the afternoon to celebrate.

Garcia sliced the cake and handed out pieces to everyone.

When Reid stood next to Morgan, Morgan leaned in and kissed Reid’s cheek, taking his hand
in his. Reid glanced down, feeling shy. The sight of the two agents brought warmth to the
team.
***

Reid and Morgan returned to Morgan’s house together after work, and Morgan said he would
be cooking.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t cook,” Reid admitted, watching as Morgan rinsed vegetables in the
kitchen.

“It’s okay, kid, I enjoy it,” Morgan replied with a smile.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Uh... just cut these,” Morgan said, handing him a pile of vegetables.

“How?”

“Just into bite-sized pieces.”

“Okay.”

Being in the kitchen with Reid gave Morgan a newlywed vibe, butterflies fluttering in his
stomach.

“What do you think the cause of death was for this guy?” Reid asked, lifting the chicken that
lay sprawled across the counter.

Morgan rummaged through the spice cabinet and glanced over. “Too many late-night snacks?
Classic chicken downfall.”

Reid squinted seriously at the chicken. “More like a tragic accident involving a barn door.”

“Or perhaps a case of ‘fowl play’?” Morgan suggested, grinning.

At that, Reid finally dropped the act and chuckled.

Seeing that there was nothing more to help with, Reid decided to read his book.

After setting the chicken in the oven, Morgan went to the living room to join Reid, but he
wasn't there. Morgan found him on his bed, lying.

“What are you doing?”

“Resting.”

“Are you presenting yourself as a birthday gift for me?”

“No, I’m not,” Reid replied, laughing at Morgan’s silly idea.

“I just like your bed. You know that.”

On Morgan's large bed, Reid raised both hands above his head and stretched with all his
might.

Morgan chuckled. “You look so long when you stretch like that.”

“Long? Say ‘tall,’” Reid protested.

Morgan laughed again, taking in the sight of his boyfriend sprawled on the bed.

“I like that you are tall. I like us being the same height,” Morgan smiled.

“Why’s that?” Reid asked.

“Because... everything just aligns perfectly,” Morgan whispered, slowly lowering himself
onto Reid.

“Oof...” Reid groaned, surprised by the weight, and Morgan instinctively lifted himself off.

“No, no, it’s fine. I want to feel your weight.”

As Morgan lay on Reid, a sense of elation filled Reid’s heart. The warmth of Morgan’s body
enveloped him.

“What were you saying...? What aligns...?” Reid whispered.

“Our bodies align...” Morgan whispered back, making Reid’s skin tingle.

Morgan kissed Reid tenderly and continued,

“While we kiss, our chests touch, so do our feet, and our hands fit together seamlessly.” He
intertwined his fingers with Reid’s and stretched their arms. “And I can feel…” Morgan
flushed, too shy to say what he meant.

Noticing that Reid was getting winded, Morgan shifted off him and sat up.

Reid sat up as well, slightly out of breath.

Morgan gazed at Reid, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

Reid reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“I, uh... I wrote you a letter.”

Morgan’s eyes lit up with surprise.

“Thanks... Can I read it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid shifted a bit, feeling nervous.

Morgan unfolded the paper, a smile spreading across his face even before he began to read.
Despite his immense intelligence, Reid's handwriting was somewhat childlike and charming.

[Dear Morgan

Happy Birthday! Today, I want to take a moment to express what’s in my heart.

I love you deeply. I’m sorry it took me so long to express this, but love is something I’m still
learning about. Yet, when I say I love you, it feels perfectly right.

Thank you for your patience and for loving me without conditions. Your presence in my life
is a constant source of strength, and I’m so thankful for the way you always protect and
support me. I promise to be your protector in return.

You are my best friend, my brother, and my true love. You’ve always been my sanctuary, and
I hope to be yours, too.

I love you more than words can express, and I’m so lucky to have you by my side.

Enjoy your special day!

With all my love,

Spencer Reid
June 6th, 2009]

Morgan’s heart raced as he read the words, each line sinking deeper into his soul, warmth
washing over him, followed by a wave of emotion he couldn’t contain.

Tears began to spill down his cheeks, blurring the words. He wiped his eyes with the back of
his hand.

“Thank you,” Morgan smiled at Reid with reddened eyes.

“You're welcome,” Reid smiled back.

Morgan pulled Reid into a hug, realizing that all he truly wished for was Reid’s safety and
health—nothing more than Reid's well-being.

***

Their dinner stretched late into the night, but the meal they had prepared together was
delicious, and they relished the time spent in each other’s company.

“How was Chicago?” Reid asked.

“It was fun, but it was me against three women,” Morgan replied with a laugh, shaking his
head. “They just wouldn’t stop talking, and I was exhausted by the end.”

Reid couldn’t help but smile at the image of Morgan, worn out from his sisters' lively chatter.

“I told my family about us,” Morgan said, and Reid’s expression shifted instantly.

“What?! Why?!”

Morgan blinked in surprise at Reid’s reaction.

“You... you told them without consulting me? Just like that?!”

Reid was clearly panicking, leaving Morgan taken aback. “I know they don’t like me.” He
looked as if he might cry.

“They don’t like you? What makes you think that?” Morgan asked.

“After the interview with your family, Emily scolded me for offending them,” Reid said, his
face tense.

“The case in 2006?”

“Yes. When you were taken into custody, suspected of murder.”

Morgan chuckled. “Oh yeah, they mentioned that.”

“What did they say?”

“Everyone was frantic, trying to help me while Dr. Reid was eating a huge piece of cake,”
Morgan said, clearly amused. “And you insisted that statistically, law enforcement officials
are just as likely to commit a crime as anyone else.”

Reid looked down, despair creeping into his face. “I didn’t know I was offending them.”

“After Emily left the room, Sarah confronted you, asking if you were worried about me.
Remember what you said?” Morgan smiled playfully. “You said, ‘Derek hasn’t done
anything, so I’m not worried.’ When they heard that, they all felt relieved.”

Reid’s tension eased slightly, a hint of color returning to his cheeks.

“Besides, I talk about you all the time. They know what kind of person you are. When I told
them I love someone, all three of them guessed it was you.”

Reid stared at Morgan, stunned.

Morgan smiled warmly. “They want to see you again.”

***

By the time they prepared for bed, it was past midnight.

Morgan was nearly dozing off when Reid kissed him. “Morgan, I love you,” he whispered
into his ear.

“Mmm,” Morgan responded with a soft groan.

 July 4th 2009

After work, JJ, Emily, Garcia, Morgan, and Reid gathered at the National Mall to watch the
July 4th fireworks.

It had been a busy month since Morgan’s birthday, with the team flying across the country on
various cases. Morgan and Reid had barely found a moment to be together. Now, back in
D.C., everyone hoped for a quieter week ahead.

“Here you go—Pepsi for you,” JJ said, handing a bottle to Reid.

“Thanks.”

“You had beer and passed out two years ago, remember?” Emily teased, a smirk playing on
her lips.

“Yeah, I remember,” Reid said, glancing at Morgan, who raised an eyebrow in shared
recollection.

Both men were reminded of that difficult day two years ago when Morgan had learned about
Reid’s addiction.

As the fireworks began, the night sky erupted in vibrant bursts of color. They all watched in
admiration, but Reid’s mind drifted to darker memories—the days filled with depression,
nausea, and relentless cravings. The addiction had cast a long shadow over his life, the
weight of despair pressing down on him.

But Morgan stood by his side, unwavering and steadfast. He had become Reid’s anchor.
Through the darkest days of depression, Morgan had held him close, whispering words of
encouragement even when Reid struggled to believe them. He had taken Reid stargazing,
played chess with him for hours, filled their days with jokes and laughter, attempting to
distract him from the pain.

Reid turned to Morgan, his voice barely audible above the crackle and boom of the fireworks.
“Morgan, I—I thank you for everything,” he began, but his words were swallowed by the
noise.

“What?!” Morgan shouted, straining to catch his words. Frustrated yet overwhelmed, Reid
decided words weren’t enough.

Instead, he leaned in, capturing Morgan’s lips with his own, pouring all his appreciation and
love into that kiss.

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise for just a moment before he melted into the kiss,
responding with warmth and depth that echoed Reid’s feelings. The world around them faded
into a blur—the crackling fireworks, the cheering crowd—until it was just the two of them,
lost in each other.
***

“Garcia, here’s your dri—”

“Shh, shh!”

“What?” JJ frowned, puzzled.

“Look at them.”

Garcia’s gaze was fixed, and JJ followed it, her breath catching in her throat.

Reid and Morgan were kissing, wrapped up in each other. JJ gasped.

“Wow.”

“I know,” Garcia replied, eyes wide with delight.

Morgan‘s arms were wrapped around Reid‘s waist, and Reid was holding Morgan’s neck.
They were kissing passionately and sweetly, eyes closed, as if they were the only two people
in the universe.

“Should we be watching this?” JJ asked.

“Of course we should,” Garcia assured her, entranced.

They spotted Emily, signaling her to keep quiet. Emily noticed Morgan and Reid and
widened her eyes.

The kisses softened, but the two seemed reluctant to part, lingering in tender embraces. Emily
felt a lump in her throat, placing a hand over her heart as she watched.

Finally, they pulled away, both wearing shy smiles. Reid whispered something into Morgan’s
ear, and Morgan nodded, whispering back. They giggled, and turned to watch the fireworks,
their hands intertwining.

“I want to keep watching them for hours,” Garcia murmured, and JJ and Emily nodded in
agreement.
 Cooking Night
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the end of Season 4. It's July 2009, Reid is 27, Morgan is 36.

“Should I cut this too?” Reid asked, holding up the carrot.

“Yes, please,” Morgan replied.

This was the third time this month they were cooking together at Morgan’s house, and Reid
seemed to be settling in. After work, they’d whip up dinner and share a meal, often ending up
in bed well past midnight, too exhausted for anything else.

Morgan appreciated that their intimacy was unfolding at a slow pace; whenever the mood
grew intimate, Reid became visibly nervous, and that tension transferred to Morgan, leaving
them both unsure of what to do next. For now, late-night cooking and sharing a meal felt just
right for them.

When Reid helped in the kitchen, he would take off his watch and roll up the sleeves of his
shirt. Even these simple gestures appeared endearing to Morgan.

Morgan’s gaze drifted to Reid’s pale arm, lightly covered with golden hairs. His heart raced a
little, and he quietly exhaled, looking away. He wanted to touch that arm.

After they finished cooking, Reid began setting the table, his sleeves still rolled up, stirring a
wave of desire in Morgan.

“Reid.”

Morgan stepped closer and hugged him from behind, sliding his hand gently over Reid’s arm,
feeling the soft golden hairs beneath his fingers.

Reid turned around, and Morgan kissed him. The kiss was more desperate and intense than
usual, causing Reid’s heart to race.

Morgan started loosening Reid’s tie.

“What are you doing?” Reid whispered, his breath quickening.

“I want to kiss your neck. Is that okay?”

Reid’s face flushed. “I guess…”

Morgan removed the tie and began unbuttoning Reid’s shirt urgently.

“Can I undo the buttons?”

“Morgan, you’re already doing it,” Reid pointed out, and Morgan paused. He noticed the
nervous look on Reid’s face and took a breath to compose himself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Slow down. You’re making me nervous,” Reid said.

Morgan nodded and slowly undid a few more buttons and carefully pulled each side of the
collar aside to expose Reid’s neck.

After swallowing, Morgan gently pressed his lips to Reid’s pale neck.

“Don’t leave marks,” Reid whispered.

“Okay...”

Morgan gently kissed and licked his neck. “Ahh...” Reid moaned softly.

Morgan slipped his hand inside Reid’s shirt, his fingers grazing his back. Reid’s body
twitched at the touch, letting out louder moans.

“Can I take you to bed?” Morgan asked.

Reid’s heart skipped a beat. “I haven’t taken a shower.”

“Reid, I just want to cuddle,” Morgan said, his breath coming in quick bursts.

“Okay…”

They sat on the bed, and Morgan removed Reid’s shirt and tank top with eager hands before
quickly shedding his own. Overwhelmed with excitement, he barely knew what he was doing
as he kissed Reid desperately and rubbed his back.

Reid’s shoulders were tense. Calm down. Morgan told himself. Calm down, Derek.

Morgan finally paused and pulled away. He lay back on the bed, exhaling deeply. “Reid, do
you wanna lie down on me?” he asked, stretching his arms toward him.

Reid lowered himself onto Morgan, feeling giddy and breathless.

Reid nearly gasped as he realized the other man’s arousal. He could feel it through their
slacks. Morgan was so hard. Reid couldn't resist the urge to press himself against Morgan, the
waves of pleasure crashing over them. Morgan groaned softly. Reid’s world momentarily
stopped in ecstasy as he felt Morgan between his thighs, and then, suddenly, Morgan’s warm
hand began to slide over his back again.
“Mm..Ahhh...!!” He clutched Morgan’s neck, his body jerking involuntarily. He breathed
rapidly, sweat glistening on his skin.

After a moment, he relaxed his grip on Morgan’s neck, his breath still coming in rapid gasps.

“Reid...? Did you just come?”

Reid nodded against Morgan’s shoulder.

“But I only touched your back,” Morgan whispered, feeling a surge of deep affection.

“No, because you were so hard...”

“Oh...” Morgan felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“Can I go clean myself up?”

“Yeah.”

“Should... should I do something about your...” Reid asked hesitantly.

“It’s okay. I can take care of myself.”

“Should I watch you?”

“Reid! No!” Morgan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“I... I don’t know this stuff.” Reid’s face flushed.

After Reid headed to the bathroom, Morgan let out a deep breath. “Oh my gosh…”

The constant tingling, flushing, and blend of embarrassment and excitement left him both
drained and exhilarated. He rubbed his face, releasing another sigh.

***

After both took their showers, they finally sat down at the table.

“I’m starving,” Reid said, rubbing his stomach.

“Me too,” Morgan sighed.

“You know, after an orgasm, the parasympathetic nervous system, which governs eating and
sleeping, starts to dominate over the sympathetic nervous system. This activates the hunger
receptors in your body, making you crave a meal. Also—”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupted with a sigh. “Let’s just eat.”

“Right.”

***
After getting into bed, Reid suddenly remembered and began to ramble again.

“Also research indicates that estrogen suppresses hunger, while testosterone stimulates it.
Given that men typically experience more significant hormone spikes than women during
sex, it explains why men often feel ravenous after—”

Morgan leaned in and kissed Reid to silence him.

“Mmm... I love you, Reid.”

“I love you too, Morgan.”

“Good night, pretty boy.” Morgan grinned. He stroked Reid’s arm, feeling the soft, fine hairs
again. Soon, Reid dozed off.

***

Emily spotted Morgan yawning as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Late night?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“With... Reid?” Emily inquired, amusement and curiosity evident.

“Yep.”

“Sounds like things are going well in the bedroom,” Emily teased.

“So far, I got to touch his back,” Morgan whispered in her ear.

“Directly,” he added quickly before Emily could respond.

“That’s it? You’re kidding, right? Derek, it’s been three months!” Emily exclaimed in
disbelief.

Morgan laughed at her predictable reaction. “We’re taking it slow, okay?”

Just then, Reid stepped over to the kitchenette to grab some coffee. He yawned and glanced
at Emily, who was smirking.

“What?” he asked.

Emily shook her head, chuckling. “Oh gosh, you two...” She gave Morgan a few playful pats
on the shoulder before leaving.

“What?” Reid mouthed at Morgan. Morgan just smiled and shrugged.

 The Forest
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 1. It's September 2009. Reid
is 27, Morgan is 36.

Morgan was having a busy yet blissful summer, completely unprepared for the storm that was
about to hit. It was hard to believe that such perfect happiness could crumble in the span of
just half a day.

Last night, Morgan and Reid each went home after finishing work late. This morning, when
Morgan saw Reid at work, he couldn’t help but admire how charming Reid looked in a pink
shirt paired with a black vest.

“You’re really embracing the color pink today,” Morgan remarked, a teasing smile on his
face.

“Do I look weird?” Reid replied, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Not at all. You look really cute,” Morgan said, grinning widely. Reid shot him a slightly
annoyed look.

“Can you come over to my place if we finish on time today? Let’s cook dinner again.”

“Okay.” Reid’s response was blunt, but a hint of happiness flickered in his eyes.

Morgan smiled.

***

Today in Virginia, a local case unfolded involving an unsub with a vendetta against trauma
surgeon Dr. Tom Barton, who was threatening to harm his son, Jeffrey. Morgan was assigned
to bodyguard Jeffrey at school, while Reid stayed at Dr. Barton’s house, sifting through the
patient list for potential suspects.

Just as Reid realized the unsub was actually targeting Dr. Barton rather than Jeffrey, it was
too late. When Morgan and Rossi arrived, they found Reid shot in the leg while shielding the
doctor.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It just grazed me,” Reid insisted, trying to downplay his pain. “Call
Emily! Something happened to Hotch!”
As paramedics attended to Reid, Morgan, Rossi, and JJ rushed to the hospital, where Emily
delivered dreaded news: Foyet had returned and had broken into Hotch's home, and stabbed
him. Foyet had left a chilling message that he was now going after Hotch’s family.

Without hesitation, Morgan led the team to find Hotch's ex-wife and son, and placed them in
protective custody.

***

By the time Morgan arrived at the hospital where Reid was being treated, it was close to
midnight, and Reid was asleep.

“The recovery will take at least six months for a full return to normal activities,” the doctor
informed Morgan, leaving him shocked.

“Six months?! He said it just grazed him…”

“It’s far more than a graze. The injury is quite severe, involving damage to his knee ligaments
and cartilage. The pain must have been intense.”

Morgan pressed his temples, feeling a wave of dizziness.

As he settled into the chair by Reid’s bedside, exhaustion descended upon him, both mentally
and physically. It had been only four months since Reid was hospitalized for anthrax. He
never imagined he’d find himself back in a hospital so soon.

He thought about Hotch. What a terrifying experience it must have been to confront Foyet in
his own home. The fear of his family being targeted was even worse.

This job sucks...

Morgan muttered to himself.

We all should quit. It’s not worth it. This terrifying work that puts loved ones at risk is the
worst kind of job.

He buried his face in Reid’s bed and cried, wishing Reid would walk away from it all. If he
couldn’t protect him even this close, the only way to keep him safe was to pull him from this
line of work. But Reid wouldn’t do that. Even if Morgan chose to leave, Reid would stay.

“Morgan.”

Startled by the voice, Morgan looked up.

Reid’s delicate fingers brushed Morgan’s cheek gently. “Are you crying? Are you okay?”

“What about you… does your knee hurt?”

“I’m fine. I had a really strange dream, though,” Reid said, squinting as he tried to remember.
“In the dream, both you and I were rabbits.”

“Huh?” Morgan blinked.

“Do you know the picture book The Rabbits’ Wedding by Garth Williams? It was at Dr.
Barton’s house today. I didn’t think much of it, but I guess I remembered the story, and it
showed up in my dream.”

“It’s a classic, isn’t it? I think the first edition came out in the ’60s.”

“Yeah, the first edition was in 1958. It’s about a black rabbit and a white rabbit who always
play together in the forest. But sometimes, the black rabbit looks sad, so the white rabbit
finally asks what’s wrong.”

“What did he say?”

“I’ll quote the book directly...

‘I'm just thinking about my wish,’ replied the little black rabbit.

‘What is your wish?’ asked the little white rabbit.

‘I wish that I could be with you forever and always. I wish you were all mine.’ replied the
little black rabbit.

‘Do you really wish that?’ asked the little white rabbit.

‘I really do,’ replied the little black rabbit.

‘Then I will be all yours,’ said the little white rabbit.

’Forever and always?‘ asked the little black rabbit.

‘Forever and always.’ replied the little white rabbit.”

“And then?”

“They get married, celebrated by all the animals in the forest. It’s a super happy ending.”
Reid smiled at Morgan, then continued, “In the dream, I was the white rabbit and you were
the black rabbit.”

“Were we playing together?”

“Yeah, we were playing in the forest.”

Morgan chuckled. “Do you think it was that forest?”

“That forest, for sure.” Reid grinned, recalling the special place they often walked together.

“Was it a happy ending?”

“Yes, we got married.”

Hearing that made Morgan's heart swell, and warm tears began to flow down his cheeks.

“I’m glad.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Not really sure.”

Reid gently stroked Morgan's face. Morgan took the hand that was caressing him and kissed
it, his heart filled with warmth and love.
 Telepathy
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 5, Episode 1. It's September 2009.

[My dear readers♡

Happy Halloween!!!
I love and appreciate you all so much. Thank you for reading my story. You are the
best!!!]

Reid underwent knee surgery and spent an additional five days in the hospital.

Morgan sat by Reid’s bedside, looking glum.

“You look glum,” Reid noted.

“I am,” Morgan replied, his gaze fixed on Reid’s cast-covered leg.

“You’ll be on crutches for months,” Morgan said.

“It'll be fine. Kicking down doors is your job anyway.”

Morgan didn’t laugh at his joke. He kept staring at his cast.

“Are you angry because you can’t be in bed with me?” Reid tried teasing.

“Reid, that’s not funny,” Morgan snapped, scowling.

Reid sighed, feeling it wasn’t fair. Morgan visited him every day after work, wearing that
same gloomy expression and sitting beside him for hours. Reid couldn’t move, leaving him
stuck with Morgan’s grumpy face.

Morgan brought his case files and worked on them.

“Can I help with the case?” Reid asked.

“No.”

Reid pouted, opening his book but ultimately deciding to observe Morgan instead.

Every detail of Morgan’s face was mesmerizing. The defined contours of his cheekbones and
jawline were striking. His eyes were deep and warm. Perfectly shaped lips formed a focused
line. His skin was a rich, deep brown that seemed to absorb the light. Reid admired the way
his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

After a few minutes of observing, Reid was satisfied and got bored looking at his boyfriend.
Reid decided to try telepathy. He concentrated hard.

--Morgan, I’m talking into your head right now. I know you can hear me.

Morgan seemed focused on his file, but to Reid, he looked like he was pretending not to hear.

--I know you can hear me, Morgan. Give me a sign. If you can hear me, turn the page.

Morgan turned the page of the documents. Reid raised his eyebrows in surprise.

--Morgan. You talk into my head, too.

Immediately, Morgan’s voice rang out in Reid’s head.

--I love you, Reid.

Reid’s eyes went wide.

--I love you, too, Morgan.

He replied mentally.

Morgan felt Reid’s gaze on him for a long moment, making him uneasy. Reid was
motionless, just staring at him. When Morgan stole a glance, Reid was smiling at him.
Morgan felt completely spooked.

“Reid... Why are you smiling at me?” he asked timidly.

“You know why,” Reid said, still grinning.

“Reid... I... I don’t know,” Morgan stammered.

“You really don't know?”

“I don't know.”

Reid noticed Morgan’s spooked expression and sighed, his face shifting to disappointment as
he realized it was all just his imagination.

“I thought we were communicating through telepathy,” he said, flopping back onto his
pillow.

“Now I’m bored again.”

Morgan looked at Reid, dumbfounded, then felt amusement creeping in as a chuckle bubbled
up inside him.
 Shower Assistance
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 5, Episode 1. It's September 2009.

A few days before Reid was scheduled to be discharged from the hospital, his physiotherapist
approached Morgan.

“Hi, I’m Erica, Mr. Reid’s physiotherapist. Are you his partner?”

“Yes, I’m Derek,” he replied, shaking her hand.

“Do you live together?”

“No, but I was considering staying with him for a while. Would it be difficult for him to
manage alone?”

“Given that he just had knee surgery, it might be challenging for him at first. Assistance with
daily activities would be really helpful.”

“Like what, specifically?”

“Tasks like changing clothes, showering, cleaning, and preparing meals. It’s important for
him to have someone around, especially in the first couple of weeks.”

“Okay. I can handle cleaning and meal prep, but I’ll need more guidance on how to help him
with changing and showering.”

“Of course. I’ll be giving Mr. Reid a demonstration on those tasks later. Would you be able to
join him?”

“Absolutely.”

***

Morgan and Reid were led into the rehabilitation room, which featured a demonstration
corner equipped with a mock bath and bed.

“Okay, we’ll start with the easy one,” Erica said, instructing Reid to lie down on the bed. She
then turned to Morgan. “Once he’s settled, the first thing you’ll want to do is help keep the
cast elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Got it. How do I do that?” Morgan asked.

“You can use pillows to prop his leg up. Just make sure it’s comfortable but elevated above
heart level.”

“Understood.”

“Now, let’s move on to changing. Mr. Reid, can you sit on the edge of the bed? Great. If your
partner is around to help, all you need to do is lift your hips by pushing against the bed with
your hands.”

She turned back to Morgan. “Derek, you’ll pull his pants down to his knees first. Then, take
them off from the uninjured leg before carefully removing them from the injured leg. Do the
same with his underwear.”

Reid widened his eyes, and Morgan rubbed his chin, both feeling the sudden awkwardness in
the air. Erica seemed oblivious to their discomfort.

“Um, so… when I’m alone, how do I manage that?” Reid asked, a slight flush creeping into
his cheeks.

“It’s a bit more challenging until you get used to it. Start from a standing position, lower your
pants as far as you can, then sit back down. Take off the uninjured leg first, and use a reacher
to help remove the rest.”

“Okay.”

“When putting on clothes, if Derek can assist you, you’ll lift your hips again, and he’ll slide
the clothes up to your waist.”

Morgan nodded, uncomfortably slipping his thumbs into his back pockets.

“If you need to do it alone, use the reacher, open the pants wide, and start with the injured
leg…” Erica continued, explaining how to shower as well. She advised using a shower chair
and covering the cast with a specialized waterproof cover to protect it from water.

At the end of the session, Erica added, “For at least two months, avoid any sexual activities.
Make sure to consult with me before you two resume sex. When you're ready, I’ll talk to you
about safe positions.”

Reid flushed and looked down. Morgan felt heat rise in his cheeks, the air between them
charged with embarrassment.

“Any questions?”

“No, thank you, Erica,” Morgan replied, trying his best to maintain his composure.

***

They decided it was best for Reid to stay at Morgan’s house for a while. They informed the
team about it. Garcia amd JJ helped Morgan pack Reid’s things for the move.
Morgan installed grab bars in the shower, placed non-slip mats both inside and outside the
shower, and prepared a shower chair for Reid’s use.

He also rearranged some furniture to create more space for Reid to navigate safely with
crutches.

On Friday morning, Reid and Morgan left the hospital together.

***

“Reid, let’s get ready for your shower. Sit here, I’ll help you,” Morgan said in the shower
room, gesturing to the shower chair.

“You mean… you’ll help me get naked?” Reid replied, his eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Morgan answered with a serious expression.

“Uh, no. I’m fine, thanks.”

“Reid, I’m your partner.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want my first experience of being naked in front of you to be during
shower assistance!”

Morgan sighed.

“I… I can manage personal care. Really. Many people do it on their own,” Reid said,
flustered.

“It’s possible, but it’s really hard. I injured my knee back in college, which ended my football
scholarship. I know how difficult it is.”

“But you managed, right?”

“I had a girlfriend who helped me.”

“Of course,” Reid said, his expression sulky.

Morgan crossed his arms and said, “Just take off your slacks. Let’s see how you do it.”

“In front of you?”

“Yes. You’re not removing your underwear. What’s the big deal?”

“You’ll see me in my underwear!”

Morgan's patience was wearing thin.

“Reid! I know what your underwear looks like. I took your clothes home from the hospital to
wash them, remember?”
“I’ll get nervous and mess up if you’re watching.”

Morgan sighed again. “Okay, I’ll step outside. But don’t lock the door. Can you cover your
cast by yourself?”

Reid rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.”

After Morgan closed the door, he listened carefully, making sure Reid was okay. He heard a
few frustrated sighs, followed by the rustling of the plastic cast cover. After a while, the
sound of running water filled the room, and Morgan finally relaxed.

***

After somehow managing to wash himself at least minimally, Reid reached for the crutches
leaning against the wall. With a loud crash, they fell to the floor.

Oh shit.

Reid was stuck, unable to move while still naked. The wall was too far to grab onto, and
since his left leg was resting on the edge of the tub, he couldn’t stand on just his usable right
leg without something to hold onto.

Reid sighed and called out to his boyfriend. “Morgan!”

“Reid, are you okay?!” Morgan’s voice was filled with concern as he moved to burst open the
door.

“Wait, wait!” Reid stopped him.

“I’ll open the door, okay?” Morgan asked.

“Morgan, close your eyes!!” Reid sounded a bit panicked.

“Reid, be reasonable.”

“Morgan, I’m not consenting to you seeing me naked! Close your eyes!”

Morgan exhaled, trying to keep calm. “Okay, I closed my eyes. I’m opening the door now,
alright?”

“Okay.”

The door creaked open, and Morgan stepped inside, eyes closed, feeling his way along the
wall.

“Okay…okay, come here, Morgan.”

Morgan nearly tripped over Reid’s clothes on the floor.

“Just, just, walk straight. Straight.”

“This is ridiculous. You know that, Reid?” Morgan replied, exasperated.

“Yeah, you look pretty ridiculous, Morgan. Almost... almost...”

Reid reached out and grabbed Morgan’s shoulder. “Yay, you’re here. Good boy. Don’t open
your eyes.”

Morgan’s face flushed as he felt the steam and fresh scent of Reid’s body.

Reid held onto Morgan’s arm. “Okay, okay...let me hold onto you and…uh... get out of the
tub.”

He carefully stepped out of the bathtub, exhaling in relief. Now he could reach the towel and
crutches. He wrapped a towel around his waist and told Morgan he could open his eyes.

Morgan opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with Reid, water still dripping from
his hair and sheened on his skin. He swallowed the urge to kiss him and instead took a
smaller towel, gently wiping Reid’s face and hair.

Then he took out the shower chair, dried it off, and helped Reid sit down.

“Can you dress yourself?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Okay. Call me if you need help.”

Morgan kissed Reid on the forehead and stepped outside once more.

***

When it was time to sleep, Morgan carefully placed some pillows under Reid’s leg, ensuring
the cast was elevated as the physiotherapist had advised.

“Are you comfortable?” Morgan asked softly.

“Not so much. Had I always slept on my back before the injury?” Reid asked, looking at the
ceiling.

“Usually. But you often sleep on your side, too. I’m sorry you can’t move around.”

Morgan leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Reid’s lips. “Good night. I love you.”

“Morgan, kiss me again,” Reid whispered.

Morgan obliged, their lips meeting softly once more. “Good night, Reid.”

“Again,” Reid urged.

With a tender smile, Morgan kissed him again.

After a moment of silence, Reid murmured, “Again.”

Morgan propped himself up, tracing his fingers along Reid’s jawline, brushing his thumb
over Reid’s lips until they parted slightly. He pressed his mouth to Reid’s, pouring his
affection into the kiss.

“Do you think it’ll be hard for us to live together without being intimate?” Reid asked, gazing
at Morgan’s dark and warm eyes.

“No, not at all. We’ve managed to stay platonic for over two years. A few more months is
nothing. We’re good at this,” Morgan replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“That’s true,” Reid said, a smile tugging at his lips as he closed his eyes.
 Hotch’s Return
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 5, Episode 2. It's September 2009. Reid is
27, Morgan is 36.

Morgan paced back and forth in front of Hotch's office, anxiety radiating from him like heat.

“He's not in yet,” Rossi said, barely glancing up from his paperwork.

Hotch had taken a month off, but Morgan felt it wasn't nearly enough. He sighed and leaned
against the doorframe of Rossi’s office.

“Rossi, I think it’s too soon for him to come back. What if he’s dealing with PTSD?”

“He's been evaluated,” Rossi replied, still focused on his task.

“Come on, Rossi. We wrote those questions. Hotch knows exactly how to answer them.”

***

Reid was excited about Hotch's return but could sense Morgan’s tension in the air. To escape,
he slipped into Garcia’s tech room.

“Hey, Garcia.”

“Hi there, good doctor! Take a seat.” Garcia pulled a chair for him to sit.

“Thanks.”

“Does it hurt?” She glanced at Reid’s cast-covered knee.

“It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time.”

Reid reached for the cookie jar.

“No, no, no! Back away! Those are for Hotch,” Garcia exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

“I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies?” Reid looked at Garcia in disbelief. “You
don't feel sorry for me?”

“How am I supposed to feel sorry for you when you are sleeping with the sexiest man on the
planet?”
Reid raised his eyebrows.

“So this is not about Hotch. This is about you being jealous.”

Garcia leaned in closer. “I’ll trade you cookies for some juicy details. What have you two
done so far in bed?”

“I can't. It's classified information,” Reid teased, grinning.

“Come on, just tell me one thing.”

Garcia offered him a jar of lollipops, placing it atop the cookie jar. Reid took one and
unwrapped it.

“I can tell you what we haven’t done,” he said, popping the candy into his mouth.

“What’s that?”

“We’ve never taken off our underwear.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid grinned mischievously, lollipop in hand.

“I don’t believe you.”

Reid chuckled. “Still no cookies?”

“Nope.”

“You know Hotch is going to hate all this attention,” Reid said. “He’ll probably pretend
nothing happened.”

“I don’t know how he handles it,” Garcia murmured.

“I’ve been thinking about it. In all the time I’ve known Hotch, I don’t think I’ve ever seen
him blink,” Reid mused.

“I know! It’s weird,” Garcia agreed, her expression serious.

“Classic alpha male behavior,” Reid noted.

“Do you think he stared down Foyet?” Garcia asked, lowering her voice.

“Maybe. It could be what saved his life,” Reid whispered back.

“Do you think he stared the whole time? Like, with each stab?” Garcia’s voice was hushed, a
mix of terror and curiosity.

“I have no idea.” Reid shrugged, his expression thoughtful.

“Is he okay?”

“I wouldn’t be, but I’m a blinker.”

“Yeah, me too…”

Suddenly, the door swung open, startling both of them. It was JJ.

“Spence. There you are. We’re heading to Louisville. Morgan already grabbed your go-bag.”

***

Morgan was on edge all day. As they boarded the jet, he kept a close eye on Reid.

“Careful, Reid! There’s another step.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “Morgan, relax. Spence isn’t a toddler.”

“Yeah, but he trips even when he’s not on crutches,” Morgan replied, his voice tight with
stress.

Finally, Hotch stepped onto the jet a bit later than everyone else. The team greeted him
warmly, but Morgan’s brow furrowed, concern etched on his face.

***

After identifying the unsub and learning he was at his father’s house, confronting him about
the childhood abuse, the team rushed to the scene, determination coursing through them.

Before anyone could gear up or take position, Hotch strode past, completely unprotected.

“Hotch!” Emily shouted, her alarm cutting through the tension. Morgan tensed as he noticed.

Hotch continued marching into the house alone.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Morgan yelled, sprinting to stop him. “Hotch!”

Rossi seized Morgan’s arm, holding him back. “Let him go. We have to trust him.”

“Rossi, I'm not letting him go in there solo!”

Morgan had never witnessed Hotch act so recklessly; it was as if he didn’t care about his own
life.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out. Morgan frantically broke free from Rossi’s grip and dashed into
the house.

The unsub had shot his father. Hotch glanced at Morgan and simply said he couldn’t stop
him, without showing any emotions. The unsub was apprehended.

***
Reid had been waiting for Morgan to wrap up his conversation so they could go home
together. One downside of injuring his knee and having a caring boyfriend was not being able
to leave on his own schedule.

Morgan was in Rossi’s office, deep in discussion about Hotch. Most of the workers had
already left, leaving the office quiet enough for Reid to hear Morgan’s voice rising in
frustration.

“How long is he going to let Foyet win? I mean, by the time we catch this guy, Hotch could
be more scarred on the inside than on the outside.”

“Hotch took the risk, but we could apprehend the unsub,” Rossi replied.

“He put his life at risk in there in ways that we are never supposed to, and you know it.
I'm not about to stand by and watch this man kill himself!”

Reid sighed, feeling the weight of Morgan’s worry. After another ten minutes, Morgan finally
stepped out of Rossi’s office.

“Reid, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan grabbed Reid’s messenger bag.

“Let’s go.”

Morgan remained silent in the car, his profile tense as he focused on the road. Reid glanced at
him, noting the distress etched on his face. Morgan was clearly worried about Hotch, and
while Reid admired his boyfriend’s empathy, it also troubled him. Whenever something
happened to Reid, Morgan seemed to suffer even more.

When Morgan finally parked the car, he opened the door for Reid and helped him out.

“I’m sorry it’s so late. I’ll cook something right away,” Morgan said.

“It’s okay, Morgan. Let’s just order something,” Reid suggested.

“It’s quicker to cook. Don’t worry about me.”

After dinner and a quick shower, Morgan wanted some time alone to clear his head, so he
gently encouraged Reid to go to bed first. He made sure to elevate Reid’s injured leg properly
before kissing him goodnight.

Morgan took out a bottle of beer, his thoughts racing. He pressed his temples in frustration,
but after a few moments, he gave up trying to sort through everything. Putting on his
headphones, he turned on the TV and sipped his beer, staring blankly for about half an hour.
“Morgan.”

Startled, Morgan looked up, removing his headphones. Reid approached with his crutches.

“Hey,” Morgan said, standing up. “You can’t sleep?”

Reid paused in front of Morgan, gazing into his eyes. “Is there anything I can do to comfort
you?”

Morgan’s eyes widened, warmth flooding through him. “You came here to ask me that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Morgan took in the sight of Reid, still in his cast, standing there offering comfort. His heart
swelled with affection. “Reid, I’m already comforted.” He gently stroked Reid’s face.

Reid sighed. “That means there’s nothing I can do.”

“Reid, no…”

“I’ve been right beside you all day, feeling powerless. You’ve looked tense the whole time—
worried about me, worried about Hotch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t want apologies. I just… I don’t want you to forget that I can offer you comfort
too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Morgan’s expression softened. “Reid, can you sit beside me?”

He helped Reid settle on the couch.

“Can you kiss me?” Morgan asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid leaned in to kiss Morgan, hoping to offer him some comfort. But as their lips met, the
kiss deepened, and soon it was Morgan who gently took charge, pulling Reid closer as he
kissed him tenderly.

“You’re comforting me,” Reid teased, a smile breaking through his earlier tension.

Morgan smiled back, his hands cradling Reid's face as he pulled away just enough to look
into his eyes.

“I can’t help it. I love you, and I always want to comfort you.”

Reid felt warmth spread through him, reassured by Morgan’s presence.

“Actually, Reid… can I touch your back?”

Reid raised an eyebrow but turned around, taking off his shirt.

Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid’s waist from behind and pressed his face against
Reid’s back, letting out a contented sigh. “I love your back,” he murmured, admiringly.

“Why?” Reid chuckled.

“I always imagined your back to be thin and delicate, but it’s not.”

As Morgan spoke, Reid felt his breath on his skin, letting out a soft sigh.

“It’s rather wide and strong.”

Reid blushed at the compliment.

For Morgan, who had slept with countless women over the years, Reid’s back was strikingly
different—exuding a natural masculinity that he found incredibly attractive.

Morgan dozed off, resting his face against Reid’s back.

After a while, Reid sneezed, waking Morgan.

Instinctively, Morgan took off his shirt and put it on Reid, then settled back against him,
dozing off again.

Reid waited patiently, leaning on the couch and gently placing his hands over Morgan’s,
which were wrapped around his waist. Eventually, Morgan lifted his head.

“Thank you.”

Reid turned to look at him.

“You look cute in my shirt,” Morgan said, smiling.

Reid found his own shirt on the floor and handed it to Morgan, who put it on. It was tight,
making Reid chuckle.

“Are you comforted?”

“Yes. Very much,” Morgan replied sincerely.

 Tamara
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 4 and 6. It's October 2009.
Reid is 27, Morgan is 36.

Garcia watched as Tamara placed her hand gently on Morgan’s arm, gazing at him with tear-
filled eyes.

Garcia sighed.

This isn’t good.

Tamara was the sister of a young man who’d been brutally killed by a gang. She and her
brother had been incredibly close, and now she was struggling to cope with her loss.

Morgan, who had always been fiercely protective of his own sisters, couldn’t help but feel an
overwhelming sense of empathy for Tamara. Garcia knew this was pure compassion on
Morgan’s part, nothing more. At least, that’s what she hoped.

But Garcia couldn’t shake the feeling that Tamara might become emotionally attached to
Morgan. And with good reason—Morgan wasn’t just physically attractive. His kindness, his
genuine care for others, his ability to empathize with anyone in pain—it was all magnetic.
For a woman like Tamara, who was vulnerable and grieving, it would be nearly impossible
not to fall for him.

When Garcia found out Morgan had taken Tamara home from the police station, she knew
she needed to have a serious talk with him.

She caught him as he walked down the hall.

“Hey, can we have a talk?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

Garcia exhaled, choosing her words carefully. “First, I just want to say that I love you. What I
love most about you is how much you care about people.”

“Garcia, what’s going on?”

Garcia took a moment, then said, “You need to cut contact with Tamara Barnes.”
Morgan’s eyes widened, taken aback. “I didn't make contact with her. She was at the police
station.”

“Yeah, ok. But why did you need to talk to her one-on-one, giving her the news about her
brother yourself?”

“Because she asked me to. Penelope… she lost her brother. She needs answers.”

“Derek, if you testify on this case, everything will fall apart if anyone finds out you’re
involved with a member of the victim’s family. You know how this works.”

Morgan stared at her, disbelief written all over his face. “Involved?”

He shook his head. “Ok, whoa, Garcia. stop. I love you and I respect you, you know that, but
right now you're way out of bounds. I’m not involved.”

He turned to walk away, his frustration palpable, but Garcia stood firm.

“The team was here working on the case and you were with her. You’re involved.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, clearly exhausted. “For your information, she lost it back at the
station, screaming and crying, so I drove her home. End of story.”

He paused, taking a deep breath as he added, “Garcia, if you think there’s anything even
remotely personal between me and Tamara, then I have to question our friendship. You really
think I’d look at anyone other than Spencer?”

“Derek, honestly? No, I don’t,” she replied.

“Then?” he gestured wildly with his hands.

“It's Tamara I'm worried about. She's so sad and confused, and desperately looking for
anyone to swoop in and make it all better. You can’t let her get emotionally attached to you.
It’ll be very difficult for her.”

***

The drive home was quiet. Neither Morgan nor Reid said much. The conversation with
Garcia echoed in Morgan's mind, replaying over and over.

Reid seemed deep in thought, his brow furrowed. Morgan felt a sudden surge of anxiety.

“Reid… did you have a problem with me taking Tamara home today?”

Reid blinked, looking at Morgan as if the question caught him off guard. “Huh? Why would
I?”

Morgan hesitated, then said, “Garcia was concerned I was getting too involved.”

Reid frowned, clearly confused. “How? Why?”

Morgan felt a little relieved at Reid’s reaction. “She’s worried Tamara might develop an
emotional attachment to me.”

“Ohhh,” Reid nodded, as understanding dawned on him. “I see her point. You’re too damn
attractive—anyone would fall for you in a second. You’ve got to be extra careful.” He
chuckled, and Morgan couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath.

“Reid, why have you been so quiet?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’ve seemed like you were deep in thought.”

Reid shrugged, a bit sheepish. “Oh, I was just trying to remember the lyrics to a song.”

“What song?”

“I don’t know the title. It’s from The Little Mermaid.”

The Little Mermaid? Morgan blinked, trying to process the words. “Wait, what? You watched
The Little Mermaid?”

Reid’s face brightened. “Yeah. I watched it with JJ and her mom the other day. It was the
anniversary of her sister Roz’s passing. Apparently, The Little Mermaid was Roz’s favorite
movie, and I was fascinated by all the songs.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the unexpected turn in their conversation.

“Have you seen it?” Reid asked, genuinely curious.

Morgan gave him an incredulous look. “I have two sisters. What do you think?”

***

After dinner, once they’d cleaned up, Morgan and Reid settled onto the couch. Reid was
propped up with pillows, his knee in a black cast. These days, he wore Morgan’s shorts at
night—comfort being the priority now that the cast made fitting into his own clothes a bit
tricky.

Morgan smiled as he looked over at Reid, who was nestled into the cushions, his head resting
lightly against the pillow. This was a different version of Dr. Spencer Reid, the one who was
just Reid—glasses, a simple T-shirt, Morgan’s too-big shorts, and mismatched socks.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light across the room, filling the space with a cozy,
peaceful atmosphere. Morgan settled beside him, pulling the summer blanket just a little
closer around them both.

"You good?" Morgan asked, his voice low, a hint of affection in his tone as he glanced at
Reid with a playful grin.
Reid glanced up from his book—or what had started as a book, though now it was more of a
prop, as his attention kept drifting to Morgan.

"Yeah, just trying to catch up on reading," Reid said, though it was clear he was more focused
on the warmth beside him than the page in front of him.

Morgan chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his hair. "Uh-huh. Sure you are," he teased,
leaning in just enough to plant a light kiss on Reid’s temple.

Reid let out a soft laugh, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. "It's hard to concentrate on
anything else when you keep distracting me."

Morgan’s smile deepened, and he pulled Reid even closer, wrapping his arm around his
shoulders. Reid leaned into him, letting his head fall onto Morgan’s shoulder, content in the
stillness of the moment.

Reid closed the book and set it down on the coffee table, shifting so his head rested more
comfortably on Morgan’s shoulder.

The warmth of Morgan‘s dark skin was alluring.

Reid lightly brushed his fingers along the curve of his neck, then started pressing soft,
lingering kisses along Morgan’s neck, each one gentle and slow. Morgan closed his eyes. The
feather-light touch made Morgan’s breath catch, sending a rush through his body.

Reid’s kisses became more intense. He kept his lips parted as he pressed them into Morgan’s
skin. “Mmm...” Morgan let out moans.

“Reid, you need to stop. This is getting too sexual.”

“I’m just kissing,” Reid whispered, his breath quick and shallow.

“I'm aroused. You too.” Morgan glanced over his boyfriend’s groin.

Reid blushed, grabbing the blanket and draping it over his lower body. Morgan chuckled.

They reluctantly pulled away, creating some distance between them, both trying to calm the
rising tension.

***

“Thank you again for coming to the hearing, Agent Morgan. I wasn’t sure if it was fair to ask
you.”

“Tamara, I’m glad I could be there for you.”

After the hearing, Morgan and Tamara sat outside, sipping coffee.

“When you lose a brother the way I did,” Tamara said softly, “it’s nice to have someone like
you by my side.”

Morgan smiled sympathetically.

Tamara exhaled nervously. “So, listen, maybe when things settle down, I could buy you a
drink?”

She looked at Morgan with a hopeful expression. “Fair?”

Morgan’s expression shifted slightly, and he met her gaze with a quiet sincerity. “Tamara, I
need to be clear about something.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I’m already in love with
someone.”

Tamara’s heart sank a little, but she forced a smile. “Of course. Lucky woman.”

Morgan paused, his tone softening even more. “He’s a man.”

Tamara blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.”

Morgan’s lips curled into a small smile, and Tamara noticed the way his eyes softened with
affection, as if he couldn’t help but think about the person he loved, even just for a moment.

“Can you tell me more about this lucky man?” Tamara teased, a lightness returning to her
voice.

“Actually, I’m the lucky one, really.” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “He’s... he’s
very smart. Only 27, but already has PhDs in Math, Chemistry, Engineering, and BAs in
Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy.”

“Wow,” Tamara said, impressed.

“Mm-hmm. And his IQ is 187.”

Tamara raised her eyebrows. “I’d be intimidated.”

“But uh... he’s shy. And... really fidgety. He does this a lot.”

Morgan demonstrated by rubbing the back of one hand with the fingers of the other.

“He often misses social cues and keeps rambling until I stop him. He’s clumsy. He can’t
throw or catch a ball.” Morgan chuckled to himself. “Yeah, that’s my guy.”

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah. He is uh... he’s everything to me.”

Tamara noticed the way his gaze lingered, distant and warm.
“Long distance?” Tamara asked, her voice gentle.

“What?” Morgan blinked, snapping back to the present.

“You look like you miss him a lot.”

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, I do miss him... but I was with him this morning before I came here.”

Tamara laughed, shaking her head.

“I want to find someone that special too,” she said.

“You’re an amazing woman, Tamara,” Morgan said earnestly. “Smart, kind, strong... I’m sure
you’ll find that person.”

“Thank you, Agent Morgan.” Tamara said sincerely. “It’s been a blessing getting to know
you.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

On his way back to the car, Morgan pulled out his phone and called Reid.

“Hey, Morgan.”

“Hey. You still at JJ’s?”

“Yeah. How’d the hearing go?”

“Good. Why are you whispering?”

“Henry just fell asleep.”

“Oh.” Morgan lowered his voice, too. “Do you want me to come pick you up now?”

“Maybe.”

“Reid.”

“Hm?”

“I missed you.”

“Um… okay...?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Morgan.”

 Achilles and Patroclus
Chapter Notes

It's October 2009. Reid is 28, Morgan is 36.

It's Reid’s 28th birthday!

As October settled in, the crisp autumn air lingered with its familiar comfort. This season
again, Morgan thought with a pang of emotion. It was the time of Reid's birthday—and
Halloween, Reid's favorite holiday. This would be their third celebration of the season
together, though the first as a couple.

It had been about a month since Reid’s knee surgery. His range of motion had improved, and
though he still wore a cast and relied on crutches, daily activities—like showering—had
become easier. The doctor said the wound was healing well, and Reid’s strength and stability
were steadily returning.

Given his progress, Reid had decided it was time to return to his apartment.

After unpacking boxes and Morgan installing non-slip mats in Reid’s shower, Morgan began
to gather his things, ready to leave.

“I’m gonna miss living with you,” Morgan said, the words striking him like a sharp pang the
moment they left his mouth.

“Yeah, me too,” Reid replied quietly.

Morgan pulled Reid into a tight hug.

“Morgan, we’re not breaking up,” Reid joked, but Morgan wasn’t in the mood for humor.

“Kid, can’t you just move in with me?” he asked, his voice half-pleading.

“I like my apartment,” Reid answered, his tone light, but soft. “Plus, I have my mom over
sometimes.”

“Right...” Morgan exhaled, trying to suppress the longing in his chest.

Reid, balancing himself on his left leg, reached out with his right hand to stroke Morgan’s
face, his touch gentle.

“Morgan, don’t look so sad.”

Morgan's eyes were full of a deep, silent devotion—like a loyal, intelligent dog gazing at its
master, filled with pure love and trust.

Reid chuckled, “Morgan, you’re adorable.” Then, with a sudden movement, Reid wrapped
both arms around Morgan’s neck, letting his crutches fall to the floor. He kissed him, and
Morgan responded, his hand finding the small of Reid's back, pulling him closer in a kiss.

“We’ll spend the whole day together tomorrow, for my birthday, right?”

“Yeah,” Morgan replied, his smile softening.

“Unless we get a new case.”

“Right.”

***

It was a quiet Sunday morning when Morgan and Reid stepped into The National Gallery of
Art in Washington, D.C. , their steps echoing softly in the spacious halls. The museum was
peaceful, not yet crowded with tourists, giving them the perfect opportunity to enjoy the
special exhibition of Greek mythology. The soft morning light filtered through the tall
windows, casting a serene glow over the marble floors.

Morgan stayed close to Reid, steadying him whenever the floor became uneven. They’d
visited museums before, but today was different—it was Reid’s birthday, and he’d chosen to
spend it here, exploring the myths and legends that had captivated him lately.

As they wandered through the exhibit, they were greeted by the curator, a friendly woman
who offered to direct them to the elevators and ramps, ensuring that Reid’s crutches wouldn’t
slow them down. “Take your time,” she said with a warm smile. “We want you to enjoy every
moment.”

Morgan gave her a grateful smile and nodded, then guided Reid to the next painting that had
caught his eye.

It was a depiction of Achilles and Patroclus. The painting was dramatic, capturing the
strength and sorrow in their faces, the tension between love and war.

“Do you know the story of Achilles and Patroclus?” Reid turned to Morgan and asked.

“Can’t say I do. Is it... another one of those ancient Greek tragedies?”

“They were inseparable,” Reid said, his eyes fixed on the painting.

“Patroclus adored Achilles. Achilles was the greatest of warriors, so strong, so beautiful, that
everyone admired him. But Patroclus... he wasn’t just in awe of Achilles’s strength. He was
drawn to a gentleness in him.”

Reid glanced at Morgan. Their eyes met and a faint blush crept across both their faces.
“Achilles, in turn, found solace in Patroclus’s presence. He brought light to his darkest
moments.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition passing through him. He could see himself in
Achilles—the tough exterior, but always seeking comfort in Reid’s presence.

“But then…” Reid continued, “Achilles withdrew from battle after a dispute, and their side
began to lose. Patroclus couldn’t stand seeing his friend in pain. So, he convinced Achilles to
let him wear his armor and lead the troops in his place. But Patroclus fought recklessly, and
he was killed by Hector.”

“God, that’s so sad...” Morgan murmured.

“Achilles was consumed by grief. He returned to battle, vowing vengeance on Hector. He

killed Hector, but it didn’t bring Patroclus back. His grief was never satisfied. That night,
Patroclus’s ghost appeared to him, asking that their bones be buried together. Achilles
agreed... but when he tried to embrace Patroclus’s ghost, it disappeared.”

Morgan shook his head slowly, unable to shake the sadness of it all. “And then... Achilles
was defeated too, wasn’t he?”

Reid nodded. “Yeah. There was nothing left for him. He fought for so long, but in the end, he
lost. And after they died, their remains were laid to rest together. They were inseparable in
life... and in death.”

“I’d never let you fight for me like that, armor or no armor.” Morgan said, his tone so serious
it made Reid laugh.

“So, they were... homosexual?” Morgan asked, unsure if that was the right term.

“Many scholars think so,” Reid replied. “Some say their love was purely platonic—brotherly
love. But... I think they were lovers. That their bond was both spiritual and physical. They
loved each other deeply, in every sense.”

Morgan smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like us?” he asked quietly.

“Just like us,” Reid answered, his smile tender.

They shared a quiet moment, just standing there in the gallery, looking at the painting of
Achilles and Patroclus.

Reid broke the silence, his voice light. “Let’s move on.”

“Okay.”

Reid grinned. “Don’t worry, Morgan. We’re not Greek warriors. We’re just a black rabbit and
a white rabbit playing in the forest all day.”

“I like that better,” Morgan said with a chuckle, kissing Reid’s temple affectionately.
 Unit Chief
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 5 & 6.
It's November 2009. Reid is 28, Morgan is 36.

On his way to work, Morgan’s phone buzzed incessantly with texts from Hotch, updating him
on the case. When he finally arrived at the office, he found Reid already seated at his desk,
eyes fixed on his computer screen.

“Reid. What did I miss?” Morgan asked, dropping his bag on his chair.

Reid turned around, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, man, you’re not gonna
believe this. Some moron just posted a blog called ‘What Would Carl Sagan Do?’”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “No, Reid, the case. What's new on the case?”

Reid blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Hotch has sent me a dozen emails.”

“I haven’t gotten any emails from Hotch.”

Morgan frowned and sighed, opening the latest file on the computer, his mood clearly
sinking.

Reid glanced over at Morgan.

By now, everyone knew Hotch had been pushing Morgan hard all week—more than usual.
Yesterday, he'd ordered Morgan to write up a preliminary profile with little to no information.
Later that same day, he’d told Morgan he wasn’t satisfied with his analysis and insisted he
rewrite the entire thing.

“Is everything okay?” Reid asked.

Morgan rubbed his face, exhaling heavily. “Hotch has been on me nonstop. And for the life
of me, I can’t figure out why.”

The team was investigating three murder cases with a similar MO. All three victims were
females, aged 16 to 19, with blonde hair and blue eyes. They had been held captive for
approximately two years before being murdered. Additionally, each victim had given birth
prior to her death.
The team suspected that the perpetrator’s primary motive was the babies, likely selling them
through illegal adoption networks.

***

Garcia had been digging into the illegal adoption ring, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“White babies are in higher demand than minorities. Boys are more popular than girls—at
least this year,” she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Rossi, scanning the chart on Garcia's screen, murmured, “Blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies
fetch top dollar in the adoption system.”

Garcia shot a playful grin at Morgan. “The genetically perfect offspring of Penelope Garcia
and Derek Morgan wouldn’t exactly be fetching top dollar.”

Morgan, too tired to engage in her usual banter, simply replied, “All the victims have blonde
hair and blue eyes.”

Hotch stood up, the tension in his posture signaling the need to wrap things up. “All right. It’s
late. Let’s get some rest. We’ll hit this fresh in the morning.”

JJ stretched her neck with a sigh, and Reid rubbed his eyes. One by one, the team returned to
their desks to pack up. Hotch paused as Morgan was about to walk out.

“Morgan, I need you to write up a tactical arrest plan for this case,” Hotch said, his tone
serious.

Morgan looked at him, momentarily stunned. “You want me to write up how we apprehend
these unsubs without risking the lives of the children?”

“Yes.”

Morgan let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. His frustration was building—he had to
address it. “I’ve led dozens of tactical assaults, Hotch. You’ve never made me write one of
these before. What’s going on?”

Hotch’s gaze was steady. “I don’t have to justify my orders to you. And you do have to
follow them.”

“I’ve always followed your orders—when they made sense,” Morgan challenged, his voice
sharp with unspoken frustration.

Hotch sighed deeply, his expression unreadable. “Let’s talk in my office.”

In Hotch’s office, Morgan sat across from him, tension heavy in the air. Hotch started calmly,
his voice lower than usual.
“The Bureau thinks my ability to lead this team has been compromised. They’ve been
questioning me ever since Foyet’s attack.”

Morgan nodded, his stomach tight with understanding.

“If Strauss replaces me, this entire unit will come under scrutiny. Members will be
reassigned.”

Morgan shook his head, disbelief creeping into his voice. “Come on, Hotch, nobody’s gonna
replace you. Fight Strauss. I’ll go to the mat for you, so will everybody else.”

Hotch’s gaze softened, but his resolve was firm. “It doesn’t work that way. That’s why I’ve
decided to step down.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Step down? What are you talking about?”

“I’m resigning as Unit Chief at the end of the week,” Hotch said quietly.

Morgan’s shock was evident. “What?! No! Hotch, you can’t leave the team!”

“I’m not leaving the team,” Hotch replied, his voice calm. “I’m just no longer in charge. You
are.”

“Me?” Morgan scoffed, caught off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Strauss can reassign me,” Hotch said, his tone firm, “and we can avoid that if I promote
internally. It’s the only way to keep the team together.”

Morgan exhaled sharply, struggling to absorb the gravity of the situation. “So all of this, this
is why you’ve been pushing me so hard?”

Hotch gave him a brief grin, “I haven’t been pushing you that hard.”

Morgan shook his head, still processing. “Okay. But this would be temporary, right? Once we
get Foyet, everything goes back to normal.”

Hotch nodded. “Let’s get started. Unless you have other plans.”

“Not tonight.”

“Morgan. I haven’t told Strauss about you and Reid. Keep it professional at work—just as
you have.”

“Of course,” Morgan replied, his voice steady.

***

The next morning, JJ, Reid, Emily, and Garcia gathered near Emily’s and Reid’s desks.

Morgan and Strauss had been in Hotch’s office since early that morning.
“So did anyone explain why Hotch is stepping down?” Garcia asked.

JJ shook her head. “All Morgan said this morning was that it’s happening. Spence, didn't
Morgan tell you anything last night?”

Reid shrugged. “Nope. We don’t live together anymore, you know?”

“Right,” JJ said, nodding. “I keep forgetting.”

“So we’re just supposed to move forward without any discussion?” Emily’s voice was tinged
with frustration.

“After Foyet, I think we just have to be ready for anything.” Reid pursed his lips.

***

On the jet, Morgan led the discussion in place of Hotch. His tone was so serious and tense
that no one dared tease him about his new role. And honestly, no one needed to—he was
handling the leadership seamlessly. His instructions were clear, decisive, and sharp, every bit
as precise as Hotch’s. It was obvious to the team that Morgan was a natural leader. Reid
couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration.

After the briefing, Morgan assigned tasks.

“Prentiss, JJ, I want you to head to the disposal site. See if you can figure out why he was
dumped there. Rossi, you and I will check out last night’s crime scene. Hotch, Reid, I need
you to dig into John O’Heron’s life—see if anything points to a personal motive.”

Everyone nodded, mentally preparing for the work ahead.

***

After talking to Reid and JJ about the case, Garcia paused before hanging up.

“Hey, wait—before you go, how’s my Morgan doing?”

“Your Morgan?” Reid raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Reid,” Garcia huffed, “you always miss the social cues, but you didn’t miss that one,
huh?”

Reid shrugged. “He’s fine.”

“I know he’s fine," Garcia replied, her voice laced with impatience. "How’s he handling
being the head honcho?”

JJ spoke up, “Well, he’s stressed, but he’s on top of it.”

***
One FBI agent had recently left the Bureau, and Garcia and JJ had quickly set up an office for
Morgan.

Morgan was taking his new role as Unit Chief very seriously. By mid-week, Rossi noticed a
pillow and a blanket on the couch in Morgan’s office, which immediately concerned him.

“You stayed here all night?” Rossi asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “You know you can’t
keep doing that, right?”

Morgan didn’t respond immediately. He kept his focus on the file in front of him. “Rossi,
we’re not having any luck tracking this guy down on paper.”

“That’s exactly why you need to step away. Get some sleep. Come back fresh.”

“Yeah... I know.” Morgan rubbed his forehead and sighed.

***

Saturday usually started with a morning jog for Morgan. It helped clear his head, giving him
some space to think.

After showering, he made himself a cup of coffee, feeling refreshed. But as soon as he sat
down to tackle the reports and case files he’d brought home from the office, the weight of the
work began to cloud his mind.

After about an hour of writing reports, the doorbell rang.

Reid stood on the doorstep, leaning slightly on his crutches.

“Hey,” Morgan grinned, unable to hide his excitement to see Reid. “I thought you were at
JJ’s, watching Henry.”

“There was a change in Will’s schedule, so I left early. Should I have called first?”

“No, it’s fine. Are you managing okay with driving?”

“Yeah, I only use my right foot,” Reid replied, shrugging.

As Reid entered, his eyes fell on the cluttered table, covered with BAU case files and
documents. He shook his head, a disapproving expression crossing his face.

“It’s just... until I get used to it,” Morgan said quickly.

Reid didn’t wait. “I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need to do this now.”

But Reid was already at the table, sifting through the papers.

“What do you need to do?”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck, looking over the files. “Well, for the past two cases, I
need to assess the Critical Incident Report, FD-302, and Investigation Summary Report. I’ve
only partially drafted the Case Management Report. I’ve been told to redo the Asset
Forfeiture Report. And I still have to create the Operational Debriefing Report from scratch.”

“Wow. That’s a lot,” Reid said, looking at him with concern. “Are you sure you're okay?”

Morgan sighed, his expression weary. “I’ll just need to get used to it.”

Reid didn’t reply, just silently moved to help.

“Reid, thank you for helping me,” Morgan said, his voice soft with gratitude.

“No problem, anytime,” Reid replied, his eyes still focused on the report in front of him.

Morgan watched him, admiration in his gaze. In moments like this, Reid was his reliable
colleague, someone he could always trust.

They worked side by side, re-reading, rewriting, and drafting reports for about three hours.

“Let’s take a break. It’s way past lunchtime,” Morgan said, stretching his arms.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Reid stretched too, trying to loosen up.

Since the table was covered in case files, they had sandwiches on the coffee table instead.
After lunch, neither of them seemed eager to dive back into the work.

Morgan had been pushing himself so hard. Reid couldn’t believe he’d been planning to do
this all alone.

“Morgan, you know you’re not alone, right?” Reid said quietly, watching him.

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan replied, his voice soft but distant.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the work still hanging in the air.

Then Reid broke the silence, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s sing.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, surprised. He had never heard Reid sing before—he always
seemed to prefer listening to classics, his taste leaning toward the somber and sophisticated.
“Sing?” Morgan asked, half-laughing. “What do you mean?”

Reid’s grin widened. “I asked JJ to play the song part again earlier. Now I remember the
entire thing.”

Before Morgan could respond, Reid launched into a rendition of Part of Your World from The
Little Mermaid. It was... well, an experience.

“♫ Look at this stuff

Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl
The girl who has everything?”

Reid’s voice was way off-key, clashing with the melody, but his enthusiasm was contagious.
Morgan couldn’t help himself—he burst out laughing.

“♫ Look at this trove

Treasures untold
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Looking around here you'd think
Sure
She's got everything”

Morgan wheezed between fits of giggles. “Reid, you’re totally tone-deaf.”

But Reid didn’t stop. He just grinned wider, singing louder and waving his hands
dramatically.

Reid even did the speaking parts, too. “What was that word again? Street!”

By now, Morgan was doubled over, laughing so hard his sides ached. “Reid, stop it!” he
gasped between laughs. His eyes squinted in that familiar, joyful way, his smile deepening.
Reid loved seeing Morgan laugh like that—genuine, carefree.

Reid sang through the rest of the song.

“I haven’t laughed this much in a long time,” Morgan said, wiping tears from his eyes.

They finished most of the work that afternoon, but the laughter lingered.

***

After dinner, they settled on the couch, content to rest for a while.

“So, you're my boss now, huh?” Reid said with a teasing grin.

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid mocked Morgan’s serious tone. “Reid, I want you to go through all the case files and set
up a preliminary profile based on what you already know of the psychopathology.”

Morgan blushed, “Is that how I say it? That serious?”

“Yeah. You’re dead serious when you're in boss mode,” Reid said, still grinning.

Morgan smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Well, you have to obey all my orders, Dr.
Reid.”

“Ha! You wish,” Reid laughed.

“Hey, is that how you talk to your boss?” Morgan teased, frowning at him playfully.

Morgan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke into Reid’s ear. “Take
off your clothes. That's an order.”

Reid pushed him away with a laugh. “Get away, you!” He kicked Morgan lightly in the
abdomen with his uninjured leg.

“Ouch!” Morgan laughed, pretending to be hurt.

“I have a really long leg.” Reid smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that!” He grabbed Reid’s wrists, pulling him into a playful tussle.
Morgan pinned Reid’s hands behind his back, his body pressed against his.

Their faces were so close now, just inches apart. Morgan kissed Reid’s cheek, lingering for a
moment before letting go of his hands. Gently cupping Reid’s face, Morgan kissed him softly,
his lips lingering.

“I love you, Reid,” Morgan whispered into his ear, his voice low and sincere. He kissed the
edge of Reid’s ear then trailed soft kisses down his jawline, feeling the faint stubble that had
grown back during the day. He felt a strange sense of attraction to it. These subtle, masculine
features of Reid always drew him in.

Morgan slowly unbuttoned the top button of Reid’s shirt, his kisses trailing to his neck. He
started to undo more buttons, but then stopped abruptly.

“...Morgan?”

“Your physiotherapist said we need to check in with her before we can resume... certain
activities,” Morgan said, sighing, his head resting on Reid's chest.

Reid chuckled. “Mr. Responsible over here.”

Morgan grinned. “But ‘resume’? We hadn’t even started before the injury.”

Reid laughed softly. “True.”

 Funeral
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 9&10. It's December 2009.
Reid is 28, Morgan is 36.

“Please state your name and rank for the record.”

“Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid, profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit,
Quantico, Virginia.”

“Have you worked under Agent Hotchner the entire time?”

“I currently work under acting Unit Chief Derek Morgan.”

“Do you believe Agent Hotchner has been acting agitated or unreasonable since he returned
to work on September 30th?”

“No.”

Reid sighed. These interviews, which he considered a complete waste of time, always seemed
to bring out his sassy side. He leaned back in his chair, casting a long, scrutinizing look at
Strauss.

“Once the team located George Foyet's potential apartment, why didn't the BAU enter
immediately?”

“We had to be sure he was there.”

“You then left for Marshal Kassmeyer's house immediately?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Wouldn't that have been a job for a tactical team?”

“We felt that it would take too much time to get authorization for another operation.”

“We?”

“All of us.”

“Don’t you mean Agent Hotchner wanted that?”

“No. I mean all of us wanted that.”

***

Reid sighed again as he exited Strauss's office.

Emily was waiting just outside.

“Next?” Reid asked, his tone light but weary.

Emily gave a tired smile and nodded. She gave Reid's chest a gentle tap before stepping into
Strauss's office.

***

The December air was cold, a biting chill that cut through the silence.

At least the earlier rain had turned to a light drizzle.

The BAU team walked in somber procession, Rossi and Morgan carrying the casket between
them.

Once the casket was settled, Hotch stepped forward. His voice was steady, but those who
knew him could hear the deep grief veiled beneath the calmness.

“Haley was my best friend since we were in high school. We certainly had our struggles, but
if there’s one thing we always agreed on, it was our love and commitment to our son, Jack.
Haley was the woman who died protecting the child we brought into this world together. And
I will make sure that Jack grows up knowing who his mother was, and how she loved and
protected him. And how much I loved her.”

Behind him, Morgan and Rossi stood like emotional sentinels, their own grief barely
contained.

JJ and Garcia couldn’t hold back their tears.

Emily and Reid remained silent, their eyes fixed on the casket.

Everything happened so quickly. Foyet had found the location of Hotch’s ex-wife, Haley, and
their son, Jack, and murdered her. Hotch had arrived in time to rescue Jack, and killed Foyet.

When Morgan finally arrived at the scene, Hotch was straddling Foyet and repeatedly
striking him.

“Hotch!!! Hotch!! He is already dead!” Morgan grabbed Hotch by the arm, pulling him away
from Foyet’s body. “Hotch, stop! It's over! It's over, man. It's over.”

***
After the funeral, life didn’t slow down for them. Without enough time to grieve, they were
buried in work.

But the team held firm. They stood together, supporting each other more than ever before.
They took turns visiting Hotch and his son, Jack, offering whatever comfort they could.

As the temporary Unit Chief, Morgan kept the team united, even without Hotch. And Reid,
always by his side, was both his right hand and his source of comfort.

Every weekend, Reid went to Morgan’s house to help finish reports. Sometimes, he stayed
over on Saturdays.

But today, when Reid called Morgan for their usual Saturday morning check-in, he could
hear the exhaustion in Morgan’s voice.

“I came down with a cold,” Morgan muttered, the usual spark missing from his tone.
“Nothing serious, but I’ve got a fever. Just… don’t come over, okay? You might catch it.”

An hour later, Reid stood at Morgan’s door, groceries in hand. His knee was fine enough now
that he didn’t need crutches—just a cane to steady him.

“I told you not to come over,” Morgan started, but Reid was already inside, setting the bag
down with a knowing look.

He opened a window to let in some fresh air. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good at not
catching colds.” Reid grinned, pulling out hand sanitizer and disinfecting wipes. “Now, rest.
I’ll cook lunch for you.”

“Cook...?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, surprised. “I thought you didn’t cook.”

“I don’t,” Reid admitted. “But I can cook convalescent food. I cooked when my mom was
sick.”

Reid got busy in the kitchen. Though Morgan still felt unwell, the sound of Reid moving
around in the kitchen brought an unexpected sense of comfort.

An hour later, Reid entered the bedroom, carefully balancing a tray with his right hand, his
cane held steady in his left.

Morgan immediately jumped out of bed to help, but the sudden movement made him dizzy
and he pressed a hand to his temple. Soon he steadied himself and took the tray from him.

“I didn’t need your help,” Reid said, but Morgan just gave him a look.

“You drop things even without a cane. I really don't think you can handle hot food with one
hand.”

Reid pouted.
The tray held a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a small bowl of porridge. Morgan
blinked, genuinely impressed. “Wow... this looks really good.”

“Do you think you can eat?” Reid asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I think so.” Morgan’s eyes softened as he propped himself up with pillows. He inhaled
deeply, taking in the comforting scent of the soup, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

Morgan took a bite. “Mmm… It’s good. You should cook more.”

Reid smiled.

Morgan ate quietly, feeling the warmth of both the food and Reid’s care wrapping around
him.

Afterward, Reid cleaned up, then told Morgan, “I’ll work on the report now.”

“Reid, I can do it,” Morgan protested, glancing at the thermometer. “My fever’s down.”

“The ibuprofen is just masking the symptoms. You’re not getting up yet. What do I need to
do?” Reid asked, his tone firm but gentle.

Morgan sighed and settled back into the pillows. “The Investigation Summary Report. Just…
the conclusions and analysis sections. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Okay. Where are the files?”

“They’re in my bag.” Morgan pointed to his black bag on the floor. Reid opened it, his
fingers moving quickly through the contents.

Suddenly, Morgan’s eyes widened. “Reid, wait! Give me my bag.”

Reid looked up, confused. “What? Is there something I’m not supposed to see?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Morgan chuckled, a little embarrassed. “I just need to explain before you
see it.”

Reid raised an eyebrow but handed the bag to Morgan. Morgan took it and pulled out a photo
frame, holding it carefully in his hands.

“Garcia gave me this for my new office,” he said, handing it to Reid.

Reid took the frame, scanning the photo. When he recognized the image, his face flushed,
and his words stumbled. “Wh—wh-what’s this?! When did she—when did she…”

“July 4th,” Morgan answered, barely containing his amusement.

Reid froze, his eyes locked on the photo of him and Morgan in an intimate kiss. He could feel
his heart race, both surprised and touched. It was an incredibly private moment, captured
without either of them knowing.
The photo showed the two of them, standing at the same height, faces close, eyes closed in a
tender kiss. Morgan’s arms were wrapped around Reid’s waist, pulling him in as Reid’s hands
rested gently on Morgan’s neck. The kiss was soft, intimate, and the image held a quiet,
powerful affection.

Morgan took the photo back from Reid and studied it for a moment. “I really like this photo,”
he said quietly.

“Since the funeral... I don’t know how many times I’ve looked at it. It gives me peace.
Comfort,” Morgan murmured, his voice softening.

Morgan noticed Reid’s gaze and, after a beat, his expression shifted to something more
playful. “It doesn’t help me now, though. It just makes me want to kiss you.”

He slipped the photo back into the bag and handed it to Reid. “All yours. But you really don’t
need to do this, you know.”

“I want to.” Reid smiled, settling at the table to begin the report.

***

For the next couple of hours, Reid focused on the report, typing away while Morgan rested.
Every now and then, Reid would pause to check on him—offering more tea, adjusting the
blankets, making sure he was comfortable.

Finally, when the report was finished, Reid closed the laptop and walked into the bedroom,
his heart lifting at the sight of Morgan resting so peacefully.

Morgan slowly opened his eyes as Reid sat on the edge of the bed, just a few inches away.

“It’s done,” Reid said, his voice low.

“Thanks for everything today,” Morgan murmured, his voice hoarse from the cold, yet full of
quiet gratitude.

Reid reached out and touched Morgan's hand, his thumb brushing over Morgan's knuckles.
The tenderness of his touch stirred something deep inside Morgan. His chest tightened as he
stared at Reid, fighting the urge to pull him closer.

“I love you,” Morgan said softly, the words coming out more fragile than usual.

Reid pressed a gentle kiss to Morgan’s forehead. “I love you, too.”

“Can you sing The Little Mermaid?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I only sing once every few years.” Reid grinned.

Morgan chuckled softly.

“Reid?”

“Hm?”

“You are gonna marry me, right?”

Reid's heart skipped a beat. He met Morgan’s gaze, holding it for a moment longer than
usual.

“What if I’m terrible at sex?”

“You probably are.” Morgan laughed, but his tone remained serious.

“Reid. Answer me.” Morgan pressed. “You’ll marry me, right?”

“What if you want kids?” Reid's playful tone shifted to something more thoughtful.

“There are ways, Reid.”

Reid gazed down, his expression soft yet unreadable. Morgan watched him closely,
captivated by the delicate flutter of Reid’s long brown eyelashes.

“We can't predict our future, Morgan.”

“I’m not asking you to predict, Reid. I'm asking what you want.”

After a pause, Reid finally asked, “Have you ever seen the wedding photo of Hotch and
Haley?”

“Reid, their marriage has nothing to do with us.”

“During Haley’s funeral, I kept thinking about Gideon’s letter. He said he was losing his faith
in happy endings.”

“Reid...” Morgan grasped Reid's hand, looking him in the eye. “I do believe in happy
endings.”

They gazed at each other in silence.

“You really do?” Reid whispered.

“I do” Morgan nodded. “And I need you to believe in them, too.”

 Christmas Dinner
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 5, Episode 10. It's December 2009.

The BAU had a Christmas dinner at Hotch’s house this year, mainly to make Jack happy.

Before entering, Garcia insisted everyone wear Santa costumes over their clothes. Jack was
beside himself with excitement as each of his favorite agents appeared in the jolly outfits,
delivering presents with festive flair.

Reid even added his own magic to the festivities, making gifts vanish and reappear from a
simple white Santa sack, much to Jack’s delight.

JJ’s one-year-old, Henry, seemed overwhelmed by the unfamiliar surroundings. With so

many people in the house, he reached out his little hands toward Reid, his godfather whom he
recognized and trusted, looking for comfort and wanting to be held.

“Sorry, Spence,” JJ said, glancing at Reid as he held Henry, “Is your knee okay?”

“I’m fine,” Reid replied with a smile, looking more than happy to be holding Henry. “I’m
officially off the cane now.”

Morgan, watching with a fond expression, gave a small shake of his head. The sight of Reid
with Henry was enough to melt anyone's heart.

Garcia and Morgan eagerly approached, extending their arms to take Henry from Reid, but
the little boy turned his face away, clinging tightly to his godfather.

Jack, on the other hand, seemed drawn to Morgan. The moment the toys came out, Jack was
all over Morgan, dragging him into an intense Lego building session. He wanted Morgan’s
attention for every little step, and Morgan happily obliged.

Reid glanced over at them, his lips curving into a smile as Jack's laughter rang out. Morgan
was adding a Lego figure to a spaceship, his voice full of excitement. “Prepare for takeoff!”

Jack giggled, pushing his Lego base toward the spaceship. “I’m gonna block your rocket!”

“We’ll see about that!” Morgan grinned, pushing the spaceship forward in a mock race, the
two of them competing to see whose creation would reach the stars first.

Reid watched them for a moment, reminded of how good Morgan was with kids. He turned
his attention back to Henry, who had been handing him toys in a repetitive, almost ritualistic
manner. Each time Reid took one, he’d say, “Thank you, Henry.” The baby would smile, then
immediately reach out to reclaim the toy, giggling when Reid returned it.

The back-and-forth continued in a sweet, predictable loop that never seemed to tire the little
one.

JJ, seated next to Reid, watched the scene quietly for a moment before turning to him. “I
don’t know how you can engage in his repetitive play for so long. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

“Not at all. Presenting objects to caregivers is a crucial aspect of early play. It helps children
grasp concepts like causality, cognitive consolidation, and social reciprocity, while also
fostering predictability in their interactions. It's a fundamental part of their socio-emotional
and cognitive development.”

JJ curved her mouth into a playful frown, “Of course.”

Later Garcia whispered to JJ, “I can totally see Reid and Morgan with children.”

JJ smiled, “Yeah. They’d be great parents together.”

***

This year, there was no Christmas tree at Morgan's house. He was consumed by the demands
of his role as Unit Chief, and the tragic aftermath of the Foyet case left little room for holiday
cheer.

In the midst of it all, the Christmas dinner at Hotch’s house offered a moment of warmth for
the BAU team.

Hotch had decided to return to the team as Unit Chief, and with the storm of the Foyet case
finally beginning to settle, 2009 was coming to a close.
 Positions
Chapter Notes

It's January 2010. Reid is 28, Morgan is 36 years old.

Recently, Reid had started noticing changes in his body.

Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his reflection, a little surprised. His upper body
was noticeably more muscular than before.

He knew that using crutches for an extended period of time could lead to muscle
development in certain areas, but he hadn’t expected the results to be so obvious.

His biceps, triceps, shoulders, and forearms were visibly stronger. The act of pushing himself
up and stabilizing with the crutches had, over time, triggered noticeable hypertrophy—
particularly in his arms and shoulders.

Even his chest and abdomen had become more defined. He realized that his abs, obliques,
and lower back muscles had been working overtime, engaging more than usual to maintain
balance and stability while navigating with the crutches.

It wasn’t just the crutches, though. Reid knew part of the change was also due to his age. In
his late twenties, his testosterone levels were at their natural peak, aiding in muscle growth.
His body, more responsive than ever, seemed to be thriving on the added physical demands.

He’d never really cared about his physical appearance before. But now, as he examined his
reflection, thoughts of his boyfriend Morgan crept into his mind. A flush spread across Reid’s
cheeks as his thoughts wandered to what might lie ahead in their intimate moments together.
He couldn’t help but imagine Morgan’s hand, warm and gentle, brushing across his body.
Reid’s pulse quickened, and his heart fluttered. They had an appointment with the
physiotherapist this weekend, and the anticipation of it all brought a mix of nervousness and
excitement inside him.

***

Morgan and Reid were ushered into a consultation room and seated across from Erica, Reid’s
physiotherapist.

After a few preliminary questions about how Reid was managing daily activities, Erica
handed them a small pamphlet to review together.

The title on the cover made Reid's heart skip a beat: Sex After Knee Injury/Surgery. As soon
as he read it, a flush crept up his neck, and he instinctively bit his lip. Beside him, Morgan
shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his forehead.

Morgan exhaled sharply, opening the pamphlet. The illustrations caught their attention
immediately—depictions of two men in various positions. Morgan’s eyes widened as Reid
felt the sudden rush of heat flooding his face. The pamphlet detailed a few positioning
suggestions for safer sex after surgery.

“The most important thing is to avoid kneeling for the next couple of months,” Erica said, her
tone professional. “Which means, when you're in a face-to-face position, Mr. Reid will need
to be on the bottom.”

She gestured toward the illustration and continued, “Keep your injured leg turned out slightly.
Use pillows to support the outside of your legs.”

Morgan nodded, his expression serious but appreciative of Erica’s straightforward, no-
nonsense approach.

“You should never straddle your partner with bent knees. If you want to be on top, Mr. Reid,
use a chair. Have your partner sit on the chair, and you can sit on his lap. As long as the chair
is stable, this position is very safe.”

Reid’s eyes flicked to the illustration that accompanied Erica’s instructions. He felt his face
heat up again, his thoughts briefly blanking as he struggled to focus on the words. Reid could
barely process the rest of Erica's explanation.

“Another safe option is the side-lying position, or spooning,” Erica continued, oblivious to
the tension. “Mr. Reid, you would lie on your side, with your injured knee resting on the mat.
Use pillows for extra support, and your partner can lie behind you.”

***

They thanked Erica and left the consultation room, the door clicking shut behind them.

“Agh, that was so embarrassing,” Reid muttered, rubbing his face with both hands in a mix of
frustration and discomfort.

“You did well to hang in there,” Morgan chuckled, gently ruffling Reid’s hair. Honestly,
Morgan was just as embarrassed—his face felt like it was on fire, but he tried not to show it.

Once they were in Morgan’s car, the atmosphere shifted. Reid, perhaps feeling relieved now,
quietly opened the pamphlet he had been given.

“So, which one should we try tonight?” Reid asked, his tone light and teasing, as he scanned
the pages like he was choosing something off a menu.

Morgan narrowed his eyes and smiled, shaking his head. “Uh-huh, tough guy. But we both
know you'll be a nervous wreck when it actually comes to it.”
Reid’s face flushed instantly. He closed the pamphlet with a snap and bit his lip.
 First Time
Chapter Notes

It's January 2010. Reid is 28, Morgan is 36.

It had been their plan all along for Reid to stay at Morgan's house that night. Nothing too out
of the ordinary. They’d lived together for about a month before, and even after Reid moved
back to his apartment, they still spent weekends together, nights scattered here and there.

But tonight, everything felt awkward.

Both Morgan and Reid deeply regretted joking about the pamphlet earlier.

“I’m going to bed,” Reid said to Morgan’s back as Morgan loaded the dishwasher.

“Okay,” Morgan replied, glancing over his shoulder. “Good night. I’ll be there soon.”

After the words left his mouth, Morgan quickly added, flustered, “You don’t have to wait for
me.”

Reid disappeared into the bedroom without a word. Morgan exhaled, the weight of the
awkwardness settling in his chest.

After a few minutes, Morgan followed, quietly entering the bedroom. The soft glow of the
bedside lamp bathed the room in a warm, golden light, the stillness of the night making
everything feel almost serene. Reid was curled up on the right side of the bed. The sight of
his boyfriend melted Morgan’s heart.

He climbed into bed, the mattress creaking beneath him. The small sound seemed too loud in
the quiet room. Reid’s back was facing him, so close, and Morgan’s heart raced.

“Reid... are you awake?” Morgan whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Yeah.”

Morgan hesitated for a moment, then shifted closer. He placed his hand gently on Reid’s arm.
The instant his fingers brushed against Reid’s skin, he felt a subtle flinch.

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to.” Morgan said softly.

“I know,” Reid replied.

Reid shifted until his back pressed against Morgan’s chest. Morgan slowly wrapped him up in
his arms, pulling him in close, one hand resting over Reid’s stomach.

Reid whispered, “Is this the side-lying position?”

“Reid, shut up.” They both couldn't help but let out a shy giggle.

Morgan buried his face in Reid’s soft hair, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warm and
comforting. “Can you take off your shirt?” Morgan asked quietly, his voice hushed in the
quiet of the room.

Reid started pulling his shirt over his head. Morgan gave him space, taking off his own shirt.
When Reid settled back into his arms, Morgan held him tighter.

“You’re so warm...” Morgan sighed, his breath trembling slightly as he pressed closer, feeling
Reid’s chest beneath his hand.

Reid’s heart raced as he recognized Morgan’s arousal. He waited, but Morgan didn't move.
Reid could sense that Morgan was trying to control himself, taking things slowly, careful not
to make him feel rushed.

Reid quietly slid off his sweatpants, wanting to feel Morgan’s legs against his.

“Take yours off too,” he whispered, his breath quickening.

Morgan complied, removing his pants. Then he hesitantly tangled his legs with Reid’s.

Morgan started kissing Reid’s ear from behind, his breathing heavy. His desires so intense
that he could barely speak.

“Reid... Reid...”
He kept whispering into his ear as he kissed it. Reid shut his eyes and moaned. Morgan
squeezed Reid’s body even tighter, pressing his groin on Reid’s hips. Morgan let out groans
through his throat.

“Can I touch you? Reid I want to touch you.”

Morgan asked through his trembling breath.

“If you touch me I’ll come.” Reid’s voice was shaking too, eyes still shut.

“It’s okay. You can come.” Morgan whispered and slipped his hand in Reid’s underwear
halfway and asked again. “May I?”

Reid nodded quickly, his voice lost in the tight knot of anticipation in his throat. Morgan
gently wrapped his hand around him. The direct touch made Reid shiver and sent an electric
shock through his spine. “Ahh...ah...!” Reid’s fingers curled into the sheets as he moaned.

Feeling Reid directly in his hand made Morgan’s body shudder with an overwhelming
excitement.
“Reid.....” Morgan rubbed himself eagerly against Reid’s hips, the movement gaining rhythm,
his groans getting louder.

Reid felt his breath hitch, his hands gripping Morgan’s arm tight as everything inside him
seemed to tighten and release all at once.

Morgan came a moment after he felt Reid’s warm liquid on his right hand. Both men stopped
moving, panting heavily in the dark, speechless.

A quiet stillness fell between them, the air thick with the remnants of what had just passed.
Reid exhaled deeply, his mind still swimming, unsure if he could even find the words to
match what had just happened.

Morgan slowly took out his hand from his boyfriend’s underwear and kissed his temple. He
snapped out of his euphoric trance and was overwhelmed with love and affection for the man
in his arms. He embraced Reid tenderly, letting out an emotional sigh.

“Did you come too?” Reid whispered without turning.

“Yes. I did.”

“Did we just have sex?”

“I think so,” Morgan murmured, feeling a surge of emotion as he squeezed Reid’s body.

“Hmm...” Reid let out a contented sigh in Morgan’s arms.

“Is your knee ok?” Morgan asked and kissed his temple again.

“It's okay.” Reid replied softly.

They stayed like that for a while before finally getting up to take a shower.

***

In the following week, the BAU team couldn't help but notice the happy aura surrounding the
two of them. Morgan would blush and smile to himself as he remembered the sweet night
he'd shared with Reid. Reid, too, often stole glances at Morgan, his face turning red.

Both Morgan and Reid had a sense that this winter would be the happiest and warmest of
their lives.
 Healing
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 12. It’s January 2010.

Cases involving child sexual abuse always cast a long, heavy shadow over the BAU. Whether
it was the victim's trauma or the perpetrator's past that lay at the heart of the crime, the weight
of the situation always hung in the air.

This was especially true for Reid, who rarely showed his anger. But in cases like this, when
the violation of innocence was so stark, his agitation was palpable. Both Hotch and Rossi
noticed the shift in him, but neither addressed it directly. They understood that the emotion
Reid carried wasn’t just frustration—it was the fuel behind his relentless drive to solve the
case.

***

Samantha Malcome, as identified by the BAU, had suffered significant damage to her
prefrontal cortex, impairing her ability to regulate her fantasies. After losing her beloved
dolls three months ago, she began abducting women as substitutes. The paralysis she induced
in her victims was part of her twisted fantasy, allowing her to treat them like the objects she
had lost. Her actions were driven by a deep need to restore control over her life and rebuild
her collection.

Garcia’s voice trembled as she read through Samantha Malcome’s medical records.

“Oh, my god, she was doomed.” She began, “After her mother passed, she was put on a
heavy regimen of antipsychotic drugs... followed by a series of electroconvulsive therapy
treatments at ten.”

Reid reacted immediately. “At 10? Who subjects a child to ECT?”

“That would be her father, Dr. Arthur Malcolm. He runs an inpatient mental health facility for
troubled young people called New Lives.”

Reid's eyes narrowed, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.

“Her father explained that the therapy was to deal with the death of her mother.”

“Where is she now?” Emily asked urgently.

Garcia quickly provided Samantha's last known address, and Hotch instructed the team to
head to her residence and workplace. But Reid’s mind was already elsewhere.
“I need to talk to her father, Dr. Malcolm,” Reid insisted. “There are literally hundreds of
therapies to help kids through loss. Electroshock is not one of them.”

Morgan glanced at Reid, concern flickering in his eyes. Reid’s voice was tense, edged with a
quiet anger.

“Alright. Take Rossi.” Hotch nodded.

***

“My wife died when Samantha was 10, And she never recovered. I tried everything. Child
psychiatry, pet therapy, nothing helped. She was cutting herself.”

Dr. Malcome shifted uncomfortably, attempting to justify his extensive treatments he’d
administered on his daughter, including electroshock therapy.

But Reid wasn’t listening. His attention was focused on the shelf lined with toys.

“A quick question,” Reid turned to look at the doctor. “Why are these toys here?”

“I use them in my therapy.”

“But why are they way up on this shelf, away from where any kids can actually reach them?”

“They're reminders of patients that I've helped.”

“Let me ask you something,” Reid pressed, his voice still calm but now with a hard edge.
“What was the name of the girl you helped with this one?” Without waiting for permission,
Reid reached up, grabbed a small toy from the shelf, and placed it on Dr. Malcome’s desk.

“Jenny Larson.”

Reid didn’t respond, just grabbed another toy and placed it beside the first. “And this one?”

“Abigail Moore.”

Reid continued, moving swiftly. “How about this one?”

“Linda Krauss.”

He paused after laying out the last toy, his gaze now fully fixed on the doctor.

“These girls are what, they're like 9 to 12 years old, I'm assuming?”

“My Ph.D. is in the effect of trauma on prepubescent girls,” he said, his voice rising. “I do
not appreciate what you're implying.”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything,” Reid said, his voice unnervingly calm. “I’m making an
inference. An inference is an educated guess. And based on that, I form a hypothesis.”
Rossi watched Reid, sensing the young agent's complete focus. He trusted him entirely in this
moment. Rossi knew this version of Reid well—the one where his usual charm and quirks
faded away. In this state, Reid was calm, composed, no longer stammering or fidgeting.

Reid continued, “For instance, my hypothesis here is that after you raped your daughter, you
submitted her to electroshock treatment to make sure she stayed quiet.”

“That’s outrageous,” he protested, but his voice lacked conviction, his gaze flickering
nervously between the toys and Reid’s unyielding stare.

Reid didn’t budge. “And then, out of guilt, you bought her toys, more specifically, you
bought her a line of dolls. Because that's what serial molesters do. They give gifts. So you
continued the pattern with your other patients, and once they left your care, you added their
toys to your collection.”

Dr. Malcome’s eyes dropped to the desk, his hands wringing in his lap. Sweat beaded on his
forehead.

Reid leaned in closer, his gaze piercing. "Where are the dolls, Dr. Malcome?"

***

The team trusted Reid to approach Samantha Malcolm alone. As he entered the room where
Samantha kept her victims, the team and local police stayed just behind the door, ready to
intervene if necessary. Morgan was laser-focused, every sense heightened, hanging on Reid's
every word and movement, ready to act the instant danger threatened.

“Samantha?” Reid's voice was gentle as he addressed her.

“Hi. Uh, my name’s Spencer. I’m with the FBI.”

Samantha flinched, instinctively grabbing one of her victims by the neck and glaring at Reid.

Reid remained steady, speaking to her slowly and calmly, as if trying to soothe her. “I know
what your father did to you. I want you to know he can never hurt you again.”

“He never touched me. He’s a good father. He loves me,” Samantha replied, her voice cold,
almost robotic.

“I know that he probably forced you to say those things, and he punished you if you got it
wrong, sent you to the room with the lightning.”

Samantha's eyes widened slightly. “Yeah.”

“The dolls your father gave you after he hurt you—what happened to them?”

Samantha’s eyes glazed over as the painful memories resurfaced. She began to tremble, tears
welling up.
“He gave them to another girl, didn’t he?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do you want them back?”

“He said I couldn’t. He said they were gone for good.” She looked at Reid.

“He lied,” Reid said, his voice firm yet compassionate. “He’s been lying to you for a long
time.”

Reid set the doll trunk down on the floor so she could see it. He opened it, revealing the dolls
inside. Samantha gasped, her face lighting up in a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Do you want to see them closely?” Reid asked softly.

“Can I?”

“Yeah. Do you want to play with them?”

With trembling hands, Samantha carefully lifted one of the dolls and clutched it to her chest.

Reid quickly spoke into his shoulder mic.

“Clear. We need medical here.”

As medical staff entered and began tending to the victims, an officer approached Samantha
with a set of handcuffs. Reid held up a hand, “Hold on one second.”

He crouched down to Samantha’s level, speaking to her softly. “Hey, Samantha, listen. You
need to go with these men now, but your friends can come with you, okay?”

“They won’t— they won’t take them away?”

“I promise,” Reid assured her. “No one will ever take them away again.”

Samantha was led away by the officers. Reid exhaled, standing up and looking around.
Victims were being carried out on stretchers—three of them, all alive.

“Well done, Agent Reid,” Rossi said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks.” Reid replied quietly.

***

After cases involving child sexual abuse, Reid often became overly attentive toward Morgan.

That evening, the team flew back to Quantico. It was already late when Reid arrived at
Morgan's house, knocking quietly on the door. When Morgan answered, Reid simply said, “I
just wanted to see you.”
They settled on the couch, just like they would on any regular weekend, chatting about small,
inconsequential things—whatever came to mind.

After a moment, the chatter faded into a comfortable silence. Reid glanced over at Morgan,
watching him for a beat longer than usual.

Then, without much warning, Reid shifted slightly, his tone unexpectedly soft. “Hey,
Morgan… come here.” He opened his arms, offering a quiet invitation.

Morgan looked at him in surprise, but there was no hesitation in his movements. He leaned
into Reid’s embrace, and Reid gently pulled him in, his hands moving to Morgan’s shoulders,
then down his back in soothing strokes. Morgan melted into the embrace, accepting the
comfort without a word.

“I knew you’d come,” Morgan whispered, his voice soft, but laced with a quiet smile.

“Why?” Reid asked, surprised.

“Because of today’s case.”

Reid pulled back slightly, looking at Morgan.

Morgan met his eyes, a small grin curling his lips. “After cases like that... you are always
extra kind to me.”

Reid flushed, his brows furrowing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean like that.”

“What do you mean? Why apologize?”

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m treating you like a victim.”

Morgan paused, then smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Reid, it’s okay. I was a victim, and... the truth is, I still carry the pain. But I don’t mind you
comforting me. To be honest, it feels good, being cared for by you.”

Morgan continued, “Do you remember the first time you came to my place?”

Reid nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I remember. I asked Garcia for your address.”

“You came to offer comfort after hearing about my past, right?” Morgan asked, his eyes held
warmth.

“Yeah.”

Morgan’s grin softened into something more reflective. “I was confused at first. If it had been
anyone else, I probably would've shut them out, told them to leave me alone. But when I saw
you sitting on that couch that day... going out of your way to visit me... I don’t know. I felt
flattered.”
Reid’s heart tightened as he looked at Morgan.

“That day,” Morgan continued, his voice quieter now, “was the beginning of my healing.
Every time I see you, it feels like my past is slowly... healing.”

Morgan leaned his head against Reid's chest, nuzzling into him.

Reid instinctively tightened his hold, pressing a soft kiss to Morgan's temple.

“So,” Morgan whispered, his voice a little lighter, “will you keep comforting me?”

Reid’s eyes glistened with emotion as he gazed at Morgan, his voice steady. “I’ll always
comfort you.”

Morgan closed his eyes, surrendering to the warmth of Reid’s embrace. The world outside
melted away as they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s presence.

After a few quiet moments, Morgan nuzzled his nose against Reid’s cheek, a silent request
for affection. Reid kissed him gently, their lips meeting in a long, tender kiss—slow and
deliberate, as though they could savor each second, letting it stretch out into eternity.

***

“Will you hold me tonight?” Morgan whispered that night in bed.

“Mm-hmm.” Reid nodded, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled Morgan closer,
wrapping his arms around him from behind.

They settled into the warmth of each other’s bodies, the night stretching out peacefully.
Morgan could feel Reid’s breath against his neck, and a small giggle escaped him.

“Reid... stop smelling me...”

“Sorry.”

Reid’s lips twitched into a smile. He couldn’t help it—he loved the scent of Morgan.

They drifted off to sleep, the comforting weight of each other’s presence a silent promise of
care and closeness that would never fade.
 Silent Treatment
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 13. It’s January 2010. Reid
is 28, Morgan is 36.

When Morgan woke up, Reid was no longer holding him. Instead, he sprawled across the
middle of the bed, arms and legs stretched out comfortably.

Morgan chuckled softly, reaching over to pull Reid’s arms around him, hoping to remind him
that Reid was supposed to be holding him. But Reid only frowned in his sleep. So, Morgan
leaned in and kissed him gently.

“Morgan...” Reid mumbled, pushing Morgan’s face away as he sat up, eyes still half-closed.
Morgan sighed. He knew Reid didn’t like kissing before they both brushed their teeth.

“After we brush, can we continue kissing in bed?” Morgan asked, bracing himself for the
usual “no.”

Reid glanced at the clock, then back at Morgan. “Mm-hmm.”

Morgan’s face brightened at the unexpected answer. “Really?”

They moved to the bathroom together. As Reid brushed his teeth, Morgan stole the elastic
band from his wrist and gently tied his hair up for him, his fingers brushing the back of
Reid’s neck. Morgan pressed a soft kiss to that spot, feeling the familiar warmth of Reid’s
skin beneath his lips. They spent a few quiet moments in the bathroom—brushing teeth,
washing up, and shaving—each of them feeling the calm of the morning settle in.

Once they were done, they returned to the bedroom and sat facing each other on the bed, the
tension between them suddenly palpable. They were supposed to pick up where they’d left
off, but now it felt strange, like they were trying too hard.

Reid shifted, glancing away from Morgan’s gaze. “The room... it’s a bit too bright,” he
murmured.

Morgan, feeling shy, reached out and touched Reid’s hand lightly. Reid lifted his face slightly,
offering him a soft smile, and that was all it took for Morgan to lean in and kiss him again.

The bedroom, bathed in morning light, was peaceful and quiet, the sound of their kisses
echoing softly between them, stirring emotions in both men.

“Can we do it again?” Morgan whispered.

“What?” Reid murmured, lost in the moment.

“What we did last time.” Morgan answered, his heart beating a little faster.

“Yeah, I want to,” Reid said with a shy smile.

Morgan smiled, feeling a rush of happiness, and without thinking too much, he began to
remove his clothes. Reid blinked in surprise, his face flushing as he watched. In just a few
seconds, he was down to his underwear.

Morgan caught the shy look on Reid’s face and grinned, “Your turn.”

Reid lifted his eyebrows and crawled fully under the blanket, hiding himself from view.

“What are you doing? Playing hide and seek?” Morgan teased, reaching to pull the blanket
off him.

“Don’t!” came the muffled protest.

Morgan laughed. “Reid, what are you doing?”

“I’m... I’m taking off my clothes,” came the reply, followed by a shirt, undershirt, and
sweatpants being tossed out from beneath the blanket one by one.

Finally, Reid poked his head out. “It’s a little too light for me to be exposed.”

Morgan giggled, feeling his chest swell with affection. “Okay. Can I join you?”

Reid lifted the edge of the blanket, his smile shy and inviting.

Morgan crawled under the blanket and, without missing a beat, he pulled Reid close and held
him tight.

“Whoa!” Reid yelped, laughing in surprise at Morgan’s eagerness. Morgan wrapped his arms
and legs around Reid’s body from behind and already started caressing all over Reid’s torso
with his hand and kissing his neck and ear. Reid’s laughter soon became gasps and moans as
Morgan kissed his back while his hand rubbing around Reid’s chest.

“I love you,” Morgan whispered, his voice desperate between quickening breaths. Morgan
pressed himself onto Reid. “Reid...I love you so much.”

As the waves of pleasure washed over him, Morgan also felt an overwhelming affection that
nearly brought him to tears.

“Morgan, touch me,” Reid breathed out, his voice strained as his breaths grew quicker.

Morgan slowly touched him over his underwear and carefully felt his shape. Reid groaned
with both pleasure and frustration, grabbing Morgan’s wrist. Realizing Reid’s intention,
Morgan slipped his hand inside and touched him directly.
Reid gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation. Morgan’s hand closed around Reid, hard and
pulsing under his palm, sending a shiver of delight down Morgan’s spine.

Reid pressed his hips hard against Morgan to feel his firmness as closely as possible. Morgan
groaned at the delicious pressure.

Morgan moved slowly, but gradually quickening until the air between them crackled with
growing tension.

A wave crashed over Morgan, pulling him under with a force he couldn't resist. In his arms,
Reid’s body shuddered with an uncontrollable moan.

The intensity between them suddenly softened, replaced by the peaceful stillness that came
after a storm. They were still breathing hard, their hearts thudding loudly in their chests.

Their bodies, once tense and eager, now relaxed into the comfort of each other's presence.
Morgan exhaled contentedly, pressing gentle kisses into Reid’s damp hair.

***

The next day, the team flew to Evanston, Wyoming.

Several high school students had been participating in a website called the “Choking Game
Site,” which had led to multiple deaths. Someone was behind the site, encouraging students
to take part in choking challenges.

Hotch sent JJ to hold a meeting with the parents to inform them about the site, while Morgan
and Reid were tasked with visiting the high school of one of the victims to educate the
students on the severe physical consequences of the game.

***

Reid and Morgan walked briskly down the hallway of James E. Evans High School in
Wyoming.

Reid seemed visibly tense.

“Am I the one who's supposed to speak?” Reid asked, his voice tight. “Wouldn’t it make
more sense for you to handle this? The students will probably listen to you more—since
they’ll be afraid of getting tackled.”

Morgan grinned. “Better you teach. I’ll just stand there with my arms crossed, glaring like the
principal. It’s more efficient that way.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, giving Morgan a sidelong glance.

Morgan continued, “Besides, I wanna see you teach. You’ve lectured at university seminars,
you should be used to this by now.”

Seeing the mischief in Morgan’s eyes, Reid shot him a cold glare. Morgan, of course, knew
from Rossi that Reid’s lectures—and especially his jokes—didn’t always land well with
college students.

“Just don’t make any philosophy jokes,” Morgan warned. “They won’t get them, and I’m not
covering for you.”

“I won’t.”

“No quantum physics jokes, either,” Morgan added, clearly enjoying himself.

When Reid entered the classroom, the students looked startled. Reid’s appearance didn’t
exactly match the usual FBI agent stereotype. A tall, slim young man with wavy, long hair,
Reid stammered as he introduced himself. “H...hello, I’m Dr. Reid. I, uh…, I’m with the
FBI,” his higher-pitched voice causing a few students to giggle.

Then, a big, muscular, dark-skinned man with a shaved head—someone who definitely
looked like an FBI agent—walked in, crossed his arms, and scanned the room.

The students instantly stopped laughing, their attention shifting to Reid.

“Two different mechanisms—strangulation and hyperventilation—create the same effect:

oxygen deprivation in the brain.”

As Reid spoke, Morgan noticed two boys texting each other under their desks. Morgan
slowly approached the pair. His presence alone was enough to make the boys freeze, and one
immediately stopped texting, eyes dropping to the desk.

Reid, noticing the distraction, faltered for a moment. “Um…”

Morgan stood next to the boy’s desk. “Not a good idea,” he said, extending his hand. “Let me
see it.”

Reid nervously rubbed the back of one hand with the other as Morgan read the message
aloud.

“‘What planet is this dude from?’” Morgan raised an eyebrow. Several students snickered.

“‘He doesn’t want us to win the contest.’”

Morgan turned to Reid.

Reid frowned and said, “Um... I, uh...I think the more accurate statement would be, ‘He
doesn’t want us to participate in the contest at all.’”

Reid moved slowly toward an empty desk in the front row.

“This was Ryan’s desk, right? You guys remember Ryan… I’m assuming some of you were
even friends with him.”

Some of the students shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting to the empty seat.

“Ryan wanted to win, too. But when he played this game and choked himself, he cut off the
oxygen to his brain. That triggered a distress signal to his heart, slowing it down.”

Reid carefully chose words they could understand.

“His brain, in an attempt to preserve itself, shut down all non-essential bodily functions. His
arms gave out. His legs gave out. Which means he couldn't loosen the tie around his neck. He
died scared and probably in a lot of pain.”

A heavy silence fell across the room. The students’ faces grew somber, their gazes lowering
as they imagined Ryan’s last moments.

But one voice from the back of the room broke the stillness.

“You all believe this crap?”

“You don’t?” Morgan shot back, not missing a beat. “Why don’t you come up here and tell us
what you think?”

The student stood up, looking defiant. But then, in the next moment, he bolted out of the
classroom.

“Hey. Hey!” Morgan was on his heels in an instant.

***

Morgan and Reid both sighed as they stepped out of James E. Evans High School. The
January air was biting and sharp.

“The lecture wasn’t bad,” Morgan said, casually resting a hand on Reid’s back.

“Thanks,” Reid replied curtly.

“Was it good having me by your side?” Morgan teased.

“Not really.”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, when you focus, you speak clearly. But you always get
awkward and fidgety during your self-introduction. If you started strong, I think people
would actually listen to you from the get-go.”

Reid shot him a quick, irritated look. “You told me I should do the speaking. Now you’re
criticizing me? You should’ve just spoken yourself.”

Morgan grinned. “We both know I’d have given a flawless lecture.”
“Stop being smug. It’s annoying.” Reid picked up his pace.

“Keys,” Reid said, holding out his hand.

“The road’s icy. You’re not driving,” Morgan replied with a smirk.

As they slid into the car, Morgan couldn’t resist. “You know, you’re cute when you’re angry.”

He leaned in to kiss Reid, but Reid turned his head, avoiding it. Morgan raised an eyebrow,
surprised.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Reid stared out the window.

“Are you really mad?” Morgan asked, but Reid stayed silent.

As they drove, Morgan started to feel uneasy. Reid hadn't said anything, and Morgan began to
wonder if he'd teased him too much. Normally, Reid would argue back or shoot him a
sarcastic comment, but this… silence was new. It was unsettling.

“Reid... if I teased you too much, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

No response.

“Reid, I’m sorry,” Morgan repeated, his tone softer now.

Reid stole a brief glance at Morgan, catching his serious expression. Morgan really did look
guilty, like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line.

Reid’s lips twitched in amusement. Morgan was so easy. So simple. Yet, when he saw the
genuine regret on Morgan’s face, Reid felt a flicker of guilt. It was time to end the silent
treatment.

“Morgan,” Reid said quietly, his voice warm with a hint of mischief, “you’re cute when you
look guilty.”

Morgan blinked, momentarily confused. Then, when he saw the grin spreading across Reid’s
face, it hit him.

“Wait... you were just messing with me?”

“About half of it. The other half, I was genuinely pissed.” Reid chuckled.

Morgan rolled his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh as relief flooded through him. “Your silent
treatment is the worst, man. It messes with your head.”

“Well,” Reid started, “From a psychological viewpoint, silence can be effective when it
forces introspection and reflection. According to existentialist thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre,
silence can be used to confront an individual with their own choices and actions.”
Morgan gave him a dry look, clearly unimpressed, as he parked the car in the Wyoming
Police Department parking lot. The car stopped but Reid kept talking.

“And there is also the philosophy of power dynamics. In power dynamics,...”

“Reid, can I kiss you?”

“Not yet. In power dynamics, the silent treatment can be seen as a form of asserting control
or dominance. Its effectiveness can be understood from the perspective of Michel Foucault's
theories of power. According to his theory,...”

Reid stopped abruptly. “Um…” He turned to Morgan, realizing it would take another 15
minutes to explain.

“Ok, you can kiss me now.”

Morgan let out a relieved laugh. “Thank God.” He leaned in, pulling Reid close for a kiss.
 Wilderness
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 13. It’s January 2010. Reid
is 28, Morgan is 36.

By the time the team apprehended the unsub, it was already late evening. They were heading
back to their hotel in Evanston, Wyoming.

As they walked from the parking lot to the hotel entrance, the wind bit through the air,
making everyone wince.

“Are you coming to my room later?” Morgan asked, glancing at Reid.

Reid’s response was nonchalant. “I don't want to have sex in a hotel room, if that’s what
you’re asking.”

Morgan snorted, laughing at how casually Reid said it, his face flushing slightly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t feel secure enough,” Reid said. “What if someone knocks on the door? That’s
terrifying.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Everybody knows we’re madly in love with each other.”

Reid’s face turned red, and he shot Morgan a glare.

“What?”

“The way you say it...” Reid sighed, “Can you just say we’re dating?”

Morgan grinned, clearly amused. “What’s wrong with ‘madly in love with each other’? It’s
the truth.”

Reid rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Morgan planted a loud kiss on his cheek,
unbothered by the fact that their teammates were only a few meters behind them.

“I kinda miss our Unit Chief Derek Morgan,” Emily called out teasingly from behind.

“Yeah, seems like he’s a little too relaxed now,” JJ added with a knowing look, loud enough
for Morgan to hear.
“Ladies! It’s off-hours now,” Morgan said, spinning around to face them. Reid gave a mock
exasperated sigh.

***

The next morning, as Morgan drew back the hotel room curtain, a sharp breath caught in his
chest. Overnight, Wyoming had transformed into a pristine winter wonderland. Thick snow
blanketed the trees, their branches heavy with white, and the distant mountains stood tall,
their jagged peaks dusted in silver. The early morning sun bathed the scene in a soft golden
glow, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground.

It was still only six in the morning, but Morgan sprang out of bed, quickly got dressed, and
softly knocked on Reid’s door. Reid was awake, already changed into his work attire.

“Did you see outside?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah. It’s stunning.” Reid’s eyes twinkled.

“You like snow, right?” Morgan smiled.

“Mm-hmm.”

Morgan leaned in and kissed him gently. “I wanted to enjoy the view with my boyfriend.”

Reid smiled shyly. “Do you want coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

They sat in chairs by the large window, sipping their coffee as they took in the scene.

“Do you know why it feels so deeply satisfying to stay inside a warm place while it's freezing
outside?” Reid asked thoughtfully.

“No, why?”

“It’s a psychological phenomenon called 'cocooning.' People instinctively seek refuge and
comfort in a controlled, warm, and secure environment, particularly when external conditions
are harsh. The contrast between the cold outside and the warmth inside makes the feeling of
comfort more pronounced.”

“Makes sense,” Morgan said, nodding.

Morgan gazed at Reid’s face. The morning sun bathed him in light, and his beautiful hazel-
brown eyes looked soft, almost glowing in the golden glow.

“Reid... come here, I want to hold you.” Morgan stood up, his hands outstretched.

Reid glanced up, then stood to join him, stepping into Morgan’s embrace.

Morgan exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment.

“What psychological phenomenon is it that I want to rip off all our clothes just to feel you
close?”

Morgan asked as a joke, but Reid, ever the academic, began to explain.

“It’s the attachment bond phenomenon. Humans have an inherent need to form emotional
bonds. Skin-to-skin contact with loved ones helps reinforce these bonds.”

Morgan chuckled and kissed Reid softly on the lips. “Okay... and I need that now.”

He moved his hands to Reid’s cardigan, starting to unbutton it.

“Morgan, seriously?” Reid protested. “I just put this on and did all the buttons...”

“I’ll help you put it back on.” Morgan grinned as he carefully removed Reid’s cardigan,
placing it on the chair.

Reid didn’t get a chance to protest further as Morgan’s lips found his again, and Morgan’s
hands started loosening Reid’s tie.

“Morgan…” Reid said in warning.

“...No?” Morgan stopped, glancing at Reid.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Morgan chuckled again, knowing Reid wasn’t a fan of spontaneous moves. He preferred to
know exactly what was coming.

“Can we just take off our top clothes and... hug?” Morgan asked, his voice soft.

Reid raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just hug?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Okay...”

Reid relaxed and let Morgan unbutton his shirt.

As Reid’s body was slowly revealed in the soft light of the room, Morgan couldn’t help but
stare, his heart thundering in his chest.

“God, you are so beautiful.” Morgan murmured, unable to resist the admiration in his voice.

Reid’s face flushed.

Morgan quickly pulled off his own shirt, aware that Reid would likely shy away from looking
at his bare chest. As expected, Reid glanced away.

Morgan slowly pulled Reid into an embrace. “Spencer...” Morgan murmured, exhaling a sigh
of contentment as their bare skin met.
They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, silently taking in the serene
view of the world outside.

After a while, Morgan pulled back, smiling at Reid shyly. Keeping his promise, he started
putting Reid’s clothes back on. First, he slipped the undershirt over Reid’s head, then the
dress shirt, carefully buttoning it up. He adjusted Reid’s tie with a precise knot before helping
him slide his arms into the cardigan.

After putting on his own shirt, Morgan pulled Reid into another hug, breathing in the soft,
familiar scent of the fabric of his cardigan.

***

The BAU team had a few hours to kill while Hotch wrapped up paperwork with the
Wyoming local police.

“Let's head to Bear River State Park,” Morgan suggested to Reid. “The view is supposed to
be amazing.”

Reid agreed without hesitation, not fully realizing what he was signing up for.

Now, as they trudged through the barren expanse of Bear River State Park, with only
scattered patches of snow and a rough, winding trail ahead of them, the sun that had been
bright earlier in the morning was now hidden behind thick clouds. Despite it still being early,
a dim, gray light lingered in the air.

“This was your brilliant idea, huh?” Reid muttered, his voice nearly swallowed by the gusting
wind. His breath puffed out in little clouds, and his nose was already turning pink from the
cold.

Morgan, walking slightly ahead of him, glanced back with forced cheer. “What’s wrong?
This is an adventure. It's got, uh... appeal.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, his face half-hidden by a scarf. “Appeal? What, like the bleak kind?”

Morgan chuckled but couldn’t deny the truth in Reid’s words. The vast, white landscape
seemed to stretch on forever with no signs of life anywhere.

“I didn’t expect it to be this cold, man,” Morgan admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of
regret. “I thought Wyoming was all about wide open spaces and cowboy stuff. This looks
more like the set of a post-apocalyptic movie.”

Reid shivered, his fingers buried deep in his coat pockets.

“I can’t believe we were so warm and cozy in the hotel room just an hour ago, and now this,”
Reid complained, shaking his head.

Morgan grinned. “It’s a God-given metaphor, Reid. We’re supposed to be together no matter
what—not just in the good times, but through the hard stuff too.”
Reid groaned, clearly irritated by Morgan’s smug look.

“Morgan, my knee hurts.” Reid stopped and rubbed his knee, wincing slightly.

Morgan spun around, his face instantly etched with concern. “Are you okay?”

“You’re gonna have to carry me,” Reid said.

For a split second, doubt flickered in Morgan’s mind, but he couldn’t risk it.

“Okay. Come on.”

Morgan offered his back. “Let's go back to the car.” Reid climbed on.

“Ugh... You’re so heavy,” Morgan groaned, struggling under the weight.

Reid stifled a laugh.

“Did you gain weight? You feel way heavier than before.”

“I did gain some weight. And, there’s this coat too.”

Morgan sighed and began trudging back toward the car.

As he walked, Morgan could feel Reid’s smile against his back.

“Does your knee really hurt?”

“No.”

“I should’ve left you in the wilderness.”

Reid chuckled, pressing his nose against Morgan’s neck.

***

“Where were you two?” Emily asked Reid as she settled into the jet.

“We went on a very romantic date.” Reid said sarcastically, but Emily remained oblivious.

“Where? JJ and I only managed to find one decent café.”

“Café? Oh, I should’ve joined you guys.”he said, sounding genuinely envious.

“I can hear you, Reid.” Morgan’s voice came from behind them.

Reid noticed the small object Emily was fiddling with. “What’s that?”
“It’s called a star puzzle. It’s pretty much impossible to solve. You have to piece it back
together to form a perfect star.”

She paused for a moment and looked at Reid.

“But there’s a romantic story behind it. It’s about a young prince who wanted to win the heart
of the fairest maiden in the land. So, he climbed to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom
and caught a falling star for her.”

Reid looked puzzled, but Emily continued,

“Unfortunately, he dropped it, and it shattered into all these pieces. So, he frantically put it
back together to prove his love to her. He succeeded, and they lived happily ever after.”

Reid frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, taken aback.

“You can’t catch a falling star. It’d burn up in the atmosphere.” Reid’s face was serious.

“Yeah, but it’s not literal, Reid. It’s a fable.”

“But there’s no moral. Fables have morals.”

“The point is, it’s nearly impossible to solve. Just like how hard it is to prove love
sometimes.” Reid quietly took the star puzzle as Emily continued, “You have to take all of
those pieces and put them together exactly…”

Before Emily finished her sentense, Reid quietly placed the fully-formed star in front of her.

She stared at it in disbelief and looked at Reid, who smiled at her.

“There’s a lot to hate about you, Dr. Reid.”

Morgan chuckled from behind them.

“Play poker with him sometime,” Rossi murmured.

“Try playing chess with him,” Morgan added, his voice light with amusement.

“You’re the type of person who solves a Rubik’s Cube in less than a minute, aren’t you?”
Emily said.

Reid smirked. “Less than ten seconds.”

Emily shook her head, and Morgan chuckled again. Reid added with a grin,

“Almost as fast as Morgan takes off his clothes.”

Emily raised an eyebrow as Morgan suddenly stopped laughing and shifted uncomfortably in
his seat.
 Goatee
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 14-16. It's March 2010,
Reid is 28, Morgan is 36.

Morgan exhaled contentedly, shifting to get more comfortable as he curled his legs slightly,
his arms wrapping securely around Reid from behind. Reid adjusted a bit, settling back into
Morgan's embrace.

Saturday night was their usual time together—when Reid stayed over at Morgan’s.

“You’re turning me into your body pillow,” Reid chuckled, hearing Morgan’s soft, satisfied
sigh.

“Hey, you’re the one who came into my territory,” Morgan teased, a playful smirk tugging at
his lips as he nudged his nose into Reid’s hair. “And now you're stuck.”

Reid smiled, pressing back into Morgan’s chest. “I’m okay with being stuck,” he said softly,
the warmth of Morgan’s embrace making him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be.

Morgan smiled, closing his eyes. “Me too,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the back
of Reid’s neck, his voice barely more than a breath.

After a few moments, Morgan kissed Reid’s neck again, then his earlobe. His hand moved
under Reid’s shirt, rubbing his abdomen gently. Reid started stripping himself. As if that were
the cue, Morgan did the same. Soon, they were down to just their underwear.

Whenever they were intimate in bed, Reid preferred to stay in the side-lying position, never
venturing into anything new. Morgan understood why and was happy to respect Reid’s
preference. Reid found comfort in the familiar and a sense of security in routines, as change
was often difficult for him. So, as long as Reid was content, Morgan was more than willing to
keep things the same.

Feeling more comfortable and confident in the familiar side-lying position, where he could
anticipate what would happen next, Reid began to express his desires more openly.

“Touch me, Morgan,” Reid would gasp, those words sending a thrill through Morgan’s heart
every time. Reid was also comfortable enough to say things like, “That feels good,” or “Don't
stop.” Morgan was grateful to see Reid become less shy and more open.

Right now, Reid was moaning and writhing in Morgan’s arms. Reid grabbed Morgan’s hand
and tried to guide it to his underwear. But Morgan was teasing Reid, deliberately withholding
the touch. Reid was getting impatient, anticipation and arousal overwhelming him.
“Morgan...touch me...touch me...!” When Morgan finally touched him, a sharp breath
escaped him as the sensation hit. Morgan trembled with excitement.

***

In the morning, Reid and Morgan found themselves in the bathroom together again. As usual,
Morgan took the elastic band from Reid's wrist and tied back his hair—something that had
become a routine between them lately. After securing the strands, Morgan would always lean
in and kiss the soft spot on Reid’s neck. Then, they’d go through their morning ritual:
brushing teeth, washing faces, and shaving.

They were both focused on shaving, the quiet hum of the bathroom blending with the soft
scrape of razors. After a moment, Morgan paused, glanced over at Reid, and let out a small
chuckle.

“What?” Reid frowned, still shaving.

“It’s just… the whole ‘shaving together’ thing. It gives me such a ‘gay couple’ vibe,” Morgan
said with a grin.

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind.”

Morgan rubbed his chin, studying his reflection. “Maybe I should grow a goatee. What do
you think?”

Reid barely looked up, still working on his shave. “Why?”

“Just for a change. A new look.”

“Maybe. It could help you look more your age. You’ve got a baby face.” Reid said it matter-
of-factly, still focused on the task at hand.

“Excuse me?” Morgan looked at Reid, taken aback. "I have a baby face?"

“No one's ever told you that?”

“No. Because I don't.” Morgan frowned, looking offended.

Reid raised an eyebrow, amused.

***

March arrived.
At the local police department, the BAU team sat surrounded by thirty boxes of case files
related to their current investigation. It was a paperwork day—no chasing, no tackling, no
gearing up. Just hours of sifting through documents.

JJ, Emily, and Rossi exchanged exasperated glances, sighing and shaking their heads. From
two desks away, they could hear Morgan and Reid engaged in what seemed like an endless,
unimportant conversation.

“You think I grew a goatee because you called me baby-faced?” Morgan scoffed. “It was my
idea to grow it in the first place, remember?”

“Yeah, but you keep bringing it up like I said it was a problem,” Reid replied, irritation
creeping into his voice.

“When did I bring it up?” Morgan’s voice rose slightly.

“About seven minutes ago,” Reid shot back with a pointed look.

“No, you started this whole conversation,” Morgan countered, his tone frustrated.

“I don’t understand why you’re so offended. All I meant was, you’ve got that youthful
charm.”

“Youthful charm? Reid, I’m 36.”

“You’re offended again.”

“I’m not offended.”

“You look good with the goatee. It balances it out.”

“I don’t know if you’re insulting me or complimenting me, but either way, it’s not working.”

“It’s a compliment,” Reid assured him. “The goatee gives you that ‘serious adult’ vibe.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes, noticing Reid’s smirk. “You are so lucky I love you.”

Rossi leaned toward Emily and JJ. “It’s a full-on debate about how cute Morgan looks,
apparently.”

JJ sighed, glancing at the two men. “How long do we have to listen to this?”

Emily shook her head. “It’s a new form of torture. Next time, I’m bringing headphones.”

***

Since there had been a development with the unsub, JJ, Emily, and Rossi were called into a
meeting, leaving Morgan and Reid to continue sifting through the case files on their own.
Morgan sighed and pulled the next folder from the pile.

“Do you want to know how many times you've sighed today?” Reid asked, glancing over at
him with a teasing smile.

“I don't wanna know, and stop counting,” Morgan muttered, clearly annoyed.

“I’m not counting. It's not intentional.”

Morgan sighed again. Reid raised an eyebrow.

“You just did it again.”

The two worked in silence for a few minutes, the quiet stretching between them, until
Morgan couldn’t help but break it. “You know,” he started, eyes still on his file, “about ten
months ago, you told me how many times I’d touched your hair and kissed you on the
cheek... Do you still keep track of that?”

Reid looked up briefly, as if considering it. “Mm-hmm, that would be 220 times and 284
times, respectively.”

Morgan shook his head, incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Reid’s expression shifted, becoming more animated. “Wait. Those are amicable numbers.
Pairs of numbers where each number’s divisors sum to the other number. Isn’t that cool?”

Morgan blinked, staring at Reid’s excited face.

“It’s a great coincidence. It’s just really satisfying when two random numbers happen to fit
one of those combinations, like amicable numbers, perfect numbers, sociable numbers,
Catalan numbers, Fermat numbers...you know?”

“No.”

They lapsed into silence again, their attention back on the files. Reid was methodical,
flipping through the pages at a rapid pace, the rustling of paper filling the air.

Morgan looked over at him—Reid was so absorbed in the documents, his lips occasionally
parting as he scanned. For a moment, Morgan swore he saw the corners of Reid’s mouth lift
in something like a smile.

“You are not enjoying this, are you?”

“I like a good paper-trail. I find it meditative,” Reid said, barely looking up.

“Is it really that hard for you to be normal just one time?”

Reid didn’t respond, his attention fixed on the document in front of him.
Morgan turned his attention back to his own pile. Eighteen more boxes to go. He let out
another long sigh.
 Equals
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 19.

The BAU team was called to Terlingua, Texas, a small, remote border town. Three
decapitated heads had been discovered, all belonging to undocumented immigrants.

On the jet, the team delved into the case.

“What do we know about crime in Terlingua?” Rossi asked.

JJ explained, “It’s a transit town. Immigrants pass through quickly, but that also makes it a
hub for drug trafficking. Most arrests involve drugs.”

Garcia’s voice crackled through the screen. “And get this—a cheap, highly addictive, and
dangerous form of black tar heroin just hit Terlingua’s streets. The DEA thinks the Lugo
cartel is behind it.”

Emily frowned. “So they’re expanding their operation.”

“And expanding usually means violence,” Morgan added, stepping in from the back with a
silver case in hand.

Hotch’s tone was sharp. “The Lugo cartel killed two DEA agents last year. They don’t
hesitate to target law enforcement.”

Morgan placed the case on the table and flipped it open, revealing MP-5 submachine guns.
"We’ll need to stay vigilant. To cartels, federal agents are fair game. There’s often a bounty
on our heads."

He inspected the weapons, checking their condition. "So… we’re bringing the toys."

Hotch eyed the firearms and spoke with dry authority. “Handle those carefully. We can’t
afford to replace broken MP-5s on our budget.”

Reid widened his eyes. “Guys, here's the thing. I don't think I technically have authorization
to carry a weapon like that.”

“You don't,” Morgan and Hotch replied in perfect unison.

Reid blinked, glanced sideways at Emily for backup, then looked down with a mix of
embarrassment and a sulky pout.
***

Reid, Morgan, and Emily were investigating the unsub’s trailer when Hotch called to inform
them that the unsub had been located.

Morgan and Emily exchanged a glance and immediately headed for the location.

“Reid, I want you to stay here and secure the scene, all right?” Morgan said, placing a firm
hand on Reid’s shoulder.

Reid nodded. “Be careful, guys.”

“We will,” Morgan replied.

***

Reid heard from Hotch that the team had been in a gunfight with the unsub. No one from the
team was hurt, but the tension from what had just happened still weighed on Reid.

Arriving at the scene, Reid slammed the car door and sprinted toward Morgan and Emily.

“You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Morgan answered, just as Emily snapped, “No!”

Emily turned on Morgan, her voice sharp. “Are you out of your mind?! You fired that thing
right next to me! My eardrum’s blown out!”

Morgan shot back, “What did you want me to do?! He was coming right at us!”

“I told you I had him!” Emily yelled.

Morgan threw up his hands. “He was shooting at us, Emily!”

“You could have at least given me a heads-up!”

“Oh, come on! The loaded MP-5 and the lunatic shooting at us weren’t enough of a
warning?”

Emily scowled, shaking her head as she pressed a hand to her ear. “Unbelievable.”

Reid stood a few feet away, wide-eyed as he watched their heated exchange. He’d never seen
Morgan and Emily argue so intensely.

He felt a strange admiration—they were always in the field together, facing danger side by
side as equals, each unyielding yet fiercely protective of the other. Even their arguments,
Reid realized, were on equal footing, grounded in mutual respect.

***
Reid and Morgan were standing outside, waiting for everyone to gather. The sun was
beginning to dip toward the west.

“You and Emily make a good pair,” Reid said, not looking at Morgan.

“What?”

“You’re both strong, a good-looking couple. You’re close in age, and it feels like you’re
equals.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you jealous?”

Morgan studied Reid’s expression. Reid wasn’t teasing, angry, or sulking—just... thoughtful.

“I’m not jealous,” Reid said, his tone quiet. “I just think you two suit each other.”

Reid gave him a small, gentle smile.

Morgan chuckled. “Are you saying you and I don’t make a good pair?”

Reid paused, then shrugged. “We’re... okay, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” Morgan asked, amusement creeping into his voice.

Reid turned to face Morgan, squinting as the setting sun glared in his eyes. “It always feels
like you’re the one protecting me. I’m not physically strong, I’m eight years younger than
you, and honestly, it doesn’t feel like we’re equals.”

Morgan stared at Reid, his gaze softening. The way Reid squinted against the sunlight, the
subtle flash of his upper canine teeth as he spoke, was... kind of adorable. Truthfully, Morgan
wasn’t really listening to what Reid was saying—he was mesmerized by his pointy canine
teeth.

“Are you even listening?” Reid tilted his head, giving him a suspicious look.

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Reid muttered, rolling his eyes.

Morgan, a little embarrassed, shifted his stance. “Reid, it’s a weekday, but... do you wanna
spend tonight together? Can I come over to your place? It’s been a while since I visited.”

Reid paused for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

***

Morgan moved around Reid’s apartment, adjusting things he had set up for Reid’s knee last
time. “You don’t need the anti-slip mats anymore, right? Should I take them out?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Reid said, glancing over.

“And the furniture? Should we move it back? You’re not using a cane anymore.”

“Yeah.” Reid’s voice was a little dry. “You’re acting like a dad checking up on his son’s place
after he’s moved out.”

Morgan grinned. “I’m a property owner. Checking the house is what I do.”

Reid gave a small smile. “I know.”

Morgan smirked, recalling their earlier conversation. “Are you saying this isn’t an equal
relationship?”

Reid didn’t respond right away.

Morgan found a small aqua-blue bottle of cologne next to the lamp in the bedroom. It was a
tiny sampler size, and less than half of it remained. Morgan smiled. It was the cologne he had
given Reid back in July of 2007.

Reid walked in, quickly snatching the bottle out of Morgan’s hand. “What are you looking
at?”

“Should I get you a new one?” Morgan asked.

“There’s still some left.”

“When do you even use it?”

Reid’s face turned bright red, and he looked away.

“When I’m going to sleep… or something…”

“Do you think about me?”

Reid’s gaze flicked to Morgan’s, his eyes defiant as if accepting a challenge.

“I do.”

Morgan’s teasing faltered, replaced by nervousness. “What do you think about?”

Reid pressed his lips together. Morgan’s heart suddenly raced.

“Do you... touch yourself?”

Reid couldn’t maintain eye contact anymore.

Reid looked away, his face flushing.

“Not every time…” He frowned after saying that. “Do I even have to answer that?”

Morgan smiled softly, “No, you don’t.” Without thinking, he pulled Reid into a warm
embrace, his arms tightening around him.
Reid didn’t resist. Morgan’s voice was a whisper as he leaned in close, his breath warm
against Reid’s ear. “Can you touch me tonight, instead of me touching you?”

Reid pulled back slightly, his heart pounding. “Uh..I touch you?”

Morgan hesitated, his voice shy. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, but... I don’t know if I can do it right.”

***

In bed, Reid hugged Morgan from behind, his arms unable to fully encircle Morgan’s broad
chest and muscular frame. It felt a little awkward, but the two of them were familiar with this
kind of giddy tension.

Reid’s fingers gently brushed against Morgan’s back.

It was broad, strong, and when his muscles shifted under Reid's touch, it made Reid’s breath
catch. The skin, dark and glistening faintly in the dim light, was mesmerizing.

Reid’s hand slid slowly across the smooth expanse of Morgan’s back, tracing the curve of his
shoulder blade and the ridges of his muscles. The contrast between Reid’s pale fingers and
Morgan’s rich, deep skin was striking.

Reid leaned in, pressing his lips to Morgan’s back, feeling an overwhelming surge of desire.
He didn’t know how to savor the moment, but he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed, licked,
and nuzzled at Morgan’s skin, acting purely on instinct.

“Morgan, can I touch you?” The question came out quietly, almost shy, as if the momentum
from earlier had suddenly made him unsure. He bit his lip, embarrassed at his own hesitation.

“Go ahead,” Morgan whispered, his voice low and encouraging.

Before Reid could reach out, Morgan quickly removed his underwear. Reid swallowed hard
—this was the first time Morgan had been fully exposed in front of him.

Reid hesitated for a moment, then reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it made contact
with Morgan. Reid gasped, his breathing growing erratic as his fingers wrapped around him.

Morgan exhaled in a shaky gasp as the sensation washed over him.

Morgan’s eyes flickered down, watching Reid’s pale, slender fingers as they touched him.
The sight sent a shiver down his spine. Reid was hesitantly moving his hand. His awkward,
inexperienced movements only made Morgan more aroused.

“Reid....uhh...that's...that's good...”

Morgan groaned, his head falling back to rest against Reid’s shoulder, his breath hitching as
the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him. “Ahh... Spencer, do it faster...ahhh...!”
Reid could sense Morgan was nearing his climax, and adjusted the rhythm and pressure.
Breathing heavily into Morgan’s ear, Reid’s own excitement grew desperate. He felt
Morgan’s body tense, then tremble in his arms as he reached the peak.

Seconds later, Reid’s hand became wet, and he followed soon after, his body quaking with
the shared intensity of the moment.

***

Later, they lay together in their usual spooning position, speaking in soft murmurs.

“Reid...” Morgan’s voice was quiet, filled with thought.

“Hm?” Reid responded, his voice warm, still lingering in the intimacy of the moment.

“You said you and I aren’t equals, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But you’re basing that on things like age or physical strength—just surface stuff.”

“Surface stuff... Yeah, I suppose so,” Reid admitted.

Morgan chuckled, his tone soft but knowing. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’re the only
person who’s my equal.”

Reid frowned slightly, confused. “Why is that?”

“Because I seek care and attention from you. I want you to hold me. I want you to love me,
spoil me... This kind of emotion, I don’t have with anyone else.”

A surge of affection filled Reid’s chest. He turned to face Morgan and pressed a gentle kiss to
his lips.

Morgan looked at Reid, their eyes meeting. Reid’s face—beautiful and soft—made Morgan’s
heart race all over again.

“You’re the only one who makes me nervous like this.” Morgan chuckled, a little
embarrassed, pressing his forehead against Reid’s.

“Got it? So stop saying we’re not equals.”

“Got it,” Reid smiled, his heart fluttering.

Morgan smiled back, and kissed him.

 Beach House
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 20. It's May 2010. Reid is
28, Morgan is 36 years old.

It was Friday evening, and the office was unusually quiet. Morgan and Emily were chatting
by the desks, while Reid focused on tidying up his own.

“Have a good weekend, JJ,” Emily called out as JJ briskly walked past them.

JJ stopped, holding up a case file with an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she said simply, which
was enough to crush their weekend plans.

Morgan sighed deeply, leaning toward Emily to murmur under his breath, ensuring Reid
wouldn’t hear. “There goes my beach house rental.”

“And my non-refundable Sin to Win weekend in Atlantic City,” Emily muttered, matching
his tone.

“Sin to Win?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

Emily smirked, her tone sly. “Yeah, and I always win big.”

Reid, oblivious to the exchange, chimed in innocently from behind them. “I didn’t have any
plans.”

Morgan turned away from Reid, shaking his head as he let out another sigh.

What Reid didn’t know was that Morgan had been planning a surprise to celebrate their one-
year anniversary. It had been exactly a year since the Anthrax case, when Reid confessed his
love, and after his recovery, they’d officially started dating. Morgan had rented a beach house
in Virginia Beach for the occasion, a perfect romantic getaway. Now, thanks to the case file in
JJ’s hands, those plans were slipping away.

***

The moment Morgan stepped off the jet in Tallahassee, Florida, he grumbled.
“Agh, this heat is brutal. It’s only May.”

Reid noted, “You know, it isn't so much the heat as it is the humidity.”

Morgan grimaced, “At some point it doesn't matter how you look at it, it all sucks.”

At the crime scene, the team stood around the body, which was covered in tattoos. Nearby, a
shelf held a stack of journals.

Hotch’s voice cut through the moment. “JJ, gather everything you can about the prior
victims. Morgan and Prentiss, take the journals. Dave and Reid, focus on the tattoos. See if
anything stands out.”

Morgan sighed deeply, the images of his sweet vacation with Reid by the beach flickering in
the back of his mind.

He could hear Reid, unaware of the anniversary plan, excitedly talking about tattoos to Rossi
and the local detectives.

“Look at that,” Reid said, pointing to a tattoo. “In the 16th century, rose tattoos were given to
men sentenced to death.”

“Really?” one of the local detectives asked, intrigued.

“Yep,” Reid beamed. “If they escaped, the tattoo served to identify them. But now roses
pretty much symbolize pure love.”

Reid’s enthusiasm didn’t stop there. He turned to Rossi, ready to share more trivia.

“Hey, have you read The Illustrated Man?”

“Nope.” Rossi’s tone was flat.

“Oh, it's amazing. It's a collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury, based around the
metafictive device of a man who's covered in tattoos drawn by a woman from the future.”

“Uh-huh.”

“At night time, the tattoos come to life and tell a story. It's pretty awesome. ”

Morgan struggled to focus on the journals in his hands. His mind kept drifting back to the
beach house with Reid.

“Prentiss…” Morgan sighed, scanning the stack of journals. “There are like fifty of these
things.”

“Yep,” Emily sighed.

“Let’s call in the expert,” Morgan suggested.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she agreed.

The two agents looked toward Reid, who was still absorbed in his study of the tattoos.

“Hey, Reid,” Morgan called.

Reid turned, walking over to them. “What's up?”

“Our man here was a prolific journaler,” Morgan said, flipping open one of the journals to
show Reid.

“With teeny-tiny handwriting,” Emily added, deadpan.

Reid squinted at the two of them, “And…?”

Morgan replied sheepishly, “And, uh, well, you know, the two of us, it would take us like
three days to read all of this stuff.”

Reid pouted but took the journal from Morgan’s hands. “You guys owe me.”

Morgan smiled, squeezing Reid’s shoulder as Emily pulled up a chair for him.

***

The case finally wrapped up after three grueling days. To make up for the lost weekend, the
team was granted a few days off the following week.

Morgan wasted no time rebooking the beach house, and soon the long-awaited day arrived
for him to pick up Reid.

“You’re still not telling me where we’re going? Though I can kinda guess from what you told
me to pack,” Reid said, giving Morgan a curious glance.

“Alright, go ahead. Guess.”

“A beach house—either in Ocean City or Virginia Beach. But I’m leaning toward Virginia
Beach because you know I don’t like noisy places.”

Morgan chuckled. “Wow, what’s your profession again?”

Reid laughed at the playful jab. “Am I right?”

“You nailed it,” Morgan admitted with a grin. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

“Nope.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s May. Isn’t it too cold to swim?”

“There are temperature-controlled pools, Reid.”

“I don’t own a bathing suit, anyway.”

“Seriously? Not even one?”

“Nope.”

“Reid, do you know how to swim?”

“I don't.”

Morgan let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, forget relaxing vacation—I’m teaching you how to
swim.”

Reid mock-laughed. “Oh, fantastic. Can’t wait.”

“I’m serious, Reid. Swimming is a basic survival skill. You’ve got to learn.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, realizing Morgan wasn’t joking.

“Morgan, I’m not taking swimming lessons.”

“Oh yes, you are. We'll stop by a mall to buy your bathing suit first.”

Reid narrowed his eyes. “You seem way too excited about this.”

“Of course I am. I get to pick out a bathing suit for my boyfriend.” Morgan teased with a
grin.

“Pervert…” Reid muttered, scrunching his nose in mock annoyance.

***

The beach house was perfect. The wooden beams of the cozy living room framed floor-to-
ceiling windows overlooking the shimmering ocean. Just outside, a private hot tub bubbled
invitingly on the deck.

Reid marveled at the care Morgan had taken to make their anniversary special.

“This is incredible, Morgan,” Reid said, walking up to him with a fond smile.

Reid smirked mischievously, leaning against the kitchen counter. “A beach house with a
private hot tub, huh? Doesn’t this kind of environment remind you of your glorious days as a
womanizer? Beaches and endless... company?”

Morgan’s smile faltered, and his body stiffened. “I’m not that guy anymore, Reid,” he said
quietly.
Reid’s teasing grin faded as he caught the somber tone. “Morgan, I didn’t mean—”

“I know who I used to be,” Morgan interrupted. “But everything I do with you is a first for
me. It doesn’t remind me of anything, Reid.”

Reid’s heart clenched as guilt washed over him.

“Morgan. I know. And I’m sorry.”

Morgan’s lips twitched in a small smile. “You’re impossible to stay mad at,” he said, reaching
out to ruffle Reid’s hair.

“Are you ready?” Morgan asked, his tone lighter now.

Reid blinked. “Ready for what?”

“Your first swimming lesson.”

Reid groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Agh.”

The afternoon sun warmed the air just enough to make stepping into the pool bearable, but
Reid still wasn’t convinced. Standing at the edge of the beach house’s swimming pool, he
crossed his arms over his chest, peering skeptically at the clear blue water.

“Is it cold?”

“Nope. It’s perfect. Come on, Reid.”

Morgan was already waist-deep in the water, grinning up at him.

“Do you know the lifetime odds of dying from drowning in the United States?” Reid asked.

“No.”

“It’s 1 in 1,024.”

“Yeah, but as a federal agent, your odds are worse. Imagine if a boat capsizes during a high-
stakes chase?”

Reid rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If that
happens, I’ll just cling to you.”

Morgan’s grin widened. “Nice try, but no. Get in, babe.”

“Did you just call me babe?”

With a resigned sigh, he dipped a toe into the water. “It’s cold,” he complained.

Morgan laughed. “It’ll feel better once you’re in. Trust me.”
Taking a deep breath, Reid stepped in and reluctantly waded closer to Morgan. When he
finally reached him, Morgan took his hands, his touch steady and reassuring.

“Okay, first thing—relax. The more tense you are, the harder it is to float.”

Reid nodded, though his shoulders remained stiff.

For the next hour, Morgan guided Reid through the basics—floating, kicking, holding his
breath. Reid’s initial awkwardness and shyness began to fade, replaced by concentration and
cautious trust. Morgan’s hands never left him, always there to catch or steady him.

“You’re doing great,” Morgan said as Reid managed a wobbly back float for the first time.

Reid beamed, a little proud despite himself. “You’re a good teacher,” he admitted.

“And you’re a good student,” Morgan replied, his voice softening. His hands lingered on
Reid’s waist, keeping him steady.

Eventually, they drifted to the shallow end, where they could stand. Reid rested his arms on
the pool’s edge and let out a contented sigh as the water rippled gently around them.

“See? Not so bad,” Morgan said, leaning beside him.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Reid admitted, a quiet laugh escaping him.

Their gazes locked, and the teasing faded into something quieter, more intimate. The soft
sunlight played off the water, casting shimmering patterns on their skin.

Morgan reached out, brushing a wet strand of hair from Reid’s forehead, and kissed him—
slow and tender.

“Reid, your lips are turning blue.”

“I think I'm ready for that hot tub now.”

“Sounds good.” Morgan smiled.

Wrapped in towels, they made their way to the deck and sank into the steaming water.

Reid admired Morgan as he reclined against the tub’s edge, his arms spread wide in a display
of effortless confidence. Truly the epitome of an alpha male. Wanting to mimic him, Reid sat
on the opposite side, spreading his arms wide and trying to strike a masculine pose, even
furrowing his brow slightly for effect.

But Morgan, oblivious to Reid's intentions, simply opened his arms toward him and gently
said, "Come here."
The soft invitation broke Reid’s pretense instantly. He moved closer, slipping into Morgan’s
embrace.

For a moment, Morgan simply looked at him, captivated. Reid’s long wet hair was slicked
back, revealing sharp cheekbones and a defined jawline often hidden beneath unruly curls.
Droplets of water traced languid paths down his neck, catching the light. His hazel-brown
eyes, framed by long lashes, seemed brighter in the glow of the setting sun.

“Do you even know how good-looking you are?” Morgan murmured.

Reid chuckled, his cheeks flushing pink.

Morgan brushed his thumb over Reid’s cheek before leaning in, capturing his lips in a kiss. It
started soft, but as their hands found each other’s faces, the kiss deepened.

Reid gasped slightly when Morgan’s tongue brushed against his, but he hesitated only for a
moment before pushing his own forward, meeting him halfway. The kiss turned passionate,
their breaths mingling as the world faded, leaving only the heat of the water and the warmth
of their connection.
 Alaska
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 21. It’s May 2010. Reid is
28, Morgan is 36.

The night had fallen, wrapping the beach house in a serene, quiet darkness.

The bed was wide and simple, its design refined with a sophisticated edge, and the soft, warm
glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in an inviting light.

Morgan and Reid sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, facing each other, Morgan’s heart
fluttering with nervous energy despite the intimacy they'd already shared.

Taking Reid’s hands in his own, Morgan leaned in and kissed him. The connection was
immediate and deeply satisfying, a feeling that seemed as though it could stretch into eternity.
Yet the sound of their kisses and the small, involuntary moans that escaped them seemed to
stir a growing tension between them, one neither could ignore for long.

Morgan broke the kiss just long enough to pull off his shirt, and Reid followed suit with a shy
smile. Their bodies gravitated closer, lips finding each other again as the heat between them
built with every touch. After a moment, Morgan pulled back slightly, his voice soft and
tentative.

“Can we take off everything?” he asked.

Reid’s eyes met his for a moment, then he nodded. Together, they removed the last of their
clothing. Morgan’s gaze lingered on Reid’s body, his admiration obvious, but Reid’s instinct
was to look away, his cheeks flushed.

Reid’s nervousness was palpable. He blinked rapidly, wetting his lips repeatedly as if trying
to steady himself. Morgan reached out gently, brushing his fingers against Reid’s cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and full of concern.

Reid swallowed hard, then nodded. “I think so.”

Morgan guided him slowly onto the bed. Reid instinctively turned, attempting to settle into
their usual spooning position.

But Morgan gently pinned his wrists, keeping him facing upward.

“Reid, I want to see your face tonight,” Morgan whispered.

Reid’s cheeks flushed as his heart raced. “Okay...”

Morgan intertwined their fingers and lowered himself onto Reid. Their chests met, skin
against skin, sending a jolt of electricity through them both. The direct contact of their lower
bodies heightened the sensation, leaving both men trembling.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Morgan murmured. “Or is it mine?”

“Both... I think.”

“Yeah.”

Morgan kissed Reid deeply, their lips moving with an unspoken understanding. Reid closed
his eyes, surrendering to the warmth and weight of Morgan’s body. A satisfied moan escaped
him, soft and unguarded.

The moans grew more urgent as Morgan pressed himself harder against Reid, their
movements becoming more frenzied. Hands once pinned now roamed freely, their arms
wrapping tightly around each other, clinging as if to bridge the gap between their bodies and
souls.

“Reid...” Morgan’s voice was rough and breathless. “Reid, I love you.” He managed to meet
Reid’s eyes, his own filled with raw emotion. “Tell me you love me,” he pleaded, his lips
brushing against Reid’s ear.

“Morgan, I love you too,” Reid responded without hesitation, tightening his hold around
Morgan’s waist. His lips found Morgan’s neck, sucking gently as waves of pleasure coursed
through him. The rhythm of their movements was intoxicating, carrying them to a point
where everything else faded away.

Morgan felt Reid’s body shudder beneath him, every muscle taut before unraveling in a
cascade of sensation.

The world around Morgan blurred as his chest tightened with almost painful intensity before
releasing, leaving him breathless and enveloped in the afterglow of their connection.

***

Morgan and Reid himself weren’t sure what had sparked it, but something seemed to have
unlocked a new wave of desire in the young man.

That night, Reid was consumed by relentless urges, wanting Morgan again and again.

In the stillness of the night, Morgan felt Reid's hand brush against him once more.

“Reid... what... what are you doing?” Morgan whispered.

Reid's left arm slid around Morgan's shoulder from behind, while his right hand traced along
his body. He was breathing heavily into Morgan’s ear.
“Mmm...” Reid pressed his hips into Morgan’s, letting out a soft moan.

“Reid... I can't do it three times in one night,” Morgan whispered, his words a mix of
disbelief and desire.

Morgan opened his eyes, squinting at the clock beside the bed, dread settling over him.

“It’s three in the morning. Reid, we’re leaving at six, remember? We have to work.”

“You... you don't have to do anything,” Reid murmured urgently. “I just... I just need to feel
your body.”

“But if you keep doing that...” Morgan felt his resolve begin to slip.

“Uhhh... Reid, stop...” he breathed out, but it was already too late.

Reid kissed Morgan's neck, slow and deliberate, his voice thick with desperation. “I want
you... Morgan... touch me. Please, Morgan,” he begged, and Morgan, fully awake now, could
no longer deny the intensity of Reid's need.

***

The alarm went off at 5:30, pulling Morgan from a restless sleep. He groggily glanced at
Reid, still passed out beside him, pale and peaceful, like an angel. It was the first morning
they had woken up fully unclothed.

Morgan leaned over and kissed Reid softly. “Good morning, pretty boy.”

“Mmm…”

Reid stirred, reaching out to wrap his arms around Morgan’s neck. “Hmm… Morgan…” His
hands slid down to Morgan's waist and tried to push it down onto his.

“Whoa, whoa, Reid. What are you doing?”

“Can I feel you?” Reid murmured, his voice thick with longing.

“No. We’re leaving in thirty minutes. Get up.”

***

In the car, Morgan kept sneaking glances at Reid, who sat there as though nothing unusual
had happened the night before.

“What got into you last night?” Morgan asked, his tone curious.

Suddenly, Reid flushed, his face turning red. He didn’t answer.

“You once told me you had a low libido,” Morgan added, raising an eyebrow.
“I guess I was wrong.” Reid shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Morgan let out a laugh, a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Reid recalled something he had read before:

[Changes in libido can be triggered by shifts in confidence and self-image, often due to being
in a supportive relationship.]

[Strong emotional connections and the sense of safety and acceptance in a romantic dynamic
can heighten sexual desire.]

He didn’t share this with Morgan, but the thought made him blush.

Morgan was hoping for an easy day at work, maybe even an early bedtime to recover from
the exhaustion. But as he readied himself for the day ahead, he sighed upon hearing the news.
They were leaving for Alaska right away, tackling a new case.

***

The team was on the jet, heading to Alaska.

Garcia joined the team on the jet, a rare occurrence necessitated by Alaska's unreliable
internet.

She observed the two agents with interest. Reid, though a bit sleepy, had sparkling eyes,
smooth skin, and a refreshed, cheerful expression. In contrast, Morgan looked worn out—
sleep-deprived, his face etched with exhaustion. As soon as the briefing ended, both Reid and
Morgan dozed off, despite it still being morning.

When they landed in Alaska, Reid stretched contentedly, while Morgan still appeared tired
and sleep-deprived.

As they walked out of the jet, Garcia leaned closer to Reid and whispered, “Did you two
fight?”

“No.”

“What did you do to Derek?” Garcia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Reid's grinned. “We had an intensely passionate night.”

Garcia's eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped in an exaggerated display. Then she asked,

“How come you look so refreshed, while Derek looks like he’s been run over?”

Reid shrugged innocently. “Age difference, maybe? Morgan can't keep up with my sexual
urges.”

Before Reid could say anything else, Morgan reached over and smacked him upside the head.
“Ow!” Reid yelped, rubbing his scalp.

Garcia shook her head, smiling as she watched them playfully punch each other and laugh.

***

After a long day, the team gathered around the fireplace, sinking into the cozy Nordic-style
sofas in the inn. The warmth of the flames softened the tension, but their minds remained
sharp.

“I’m pulling an all-nighter,” Garcia announced, holding up a steaming cup of coffee, “I’ll
finish going through the town records and have those background checks ready by sunrise.”

“Good,” Hotch said with a nod. “The rest of us should get some sleep. We’ll start fresh in the
morning.”

“I’ve got four rooms upstairs available,” the innkeeper said, stepping into the room.

“Four?” Reid repeated.

The local detective shrugged. “That’s the best we can do. Your team’s twice the size of my
department.” He clapped Hotch lightly on the shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

“Good night,” Hotch replied, then turned back to the team.

“Looks like we’ll have to double up.”

“I’m not sleeping with Reid.”

Morgan quickly declared, his tone light but resolute.

Reid shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing.

The team exchanged quick, amused glances, eyebrows raised. Garcia seized Morgan’s hand
with a grin. “Dibs!”

***

The case was solved two days later. Everyone was packing their things, getting ready to
leave.

Morgan and Reid walked together to the car with their bags and saw Garcia outside, folding
up the portable satellite dish. She sighed, her movements heavy with lingering emotion.

Reid’s thoughts drifted back to two nights ago. Garcia had been the first to find the victim.
She’d tried to save him, but he had died in her arms. The memory clung to her like a shadow.

“I’ll talk to her,” Morgan said, handing his bag to Reid. Reid nodded silently.

The Alaskan air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of pine and a faint tang of saltwater. In
the distance, snow-dusted mountains stood solemn under a cloudy sky.
Reid could hear Morgan’s warm and reassuring voice.

“I’m proud of you, Penelope,” Morgan said gently to her back. “Despite everything that
happened, you stayed. You got the job done.”

Garcia hesitated, then murmured without turning to face Morgan, “The sight of blood used to
make me run away. But that night... I ran toward it.”

Morgan placed a hand on Garcia’s shoulder, gently turning her around.

“It means you're changing into someone stronger than you realize,” he said, meeting her
gaze. “You cared enough to risk your own life to try to save someone else.”

“Yeah, but...” Garcia looked at Morgan, her eyes filled with fear. “What's the difference
between being strong and being jaded?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m scared, Derek. I don’t want to lose who I am just so I
can do this job.”

Hearing her words, Reid felt his heart ache. Garcia’s fear was something they all understood,
even if it wasn’t often spoken aloud.

Morgan glanced around at the vast Alaskan wilderness.

“We’re in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I know you see that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about. It's who you are, baby girl. You see the beauty in
everything and everyone, no matter where you go. That part of you is never gonna change,
and I won't let it.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Garcia said with forced bravery.

Morgan smirked, “Tough. I think I'm gonna stay on the job a little while longer.”

“How much longer?” Garcia asked, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“Every day of my life,” Morgan replied without hesitation.

Garcia let out a laugh. “I kind of love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia,” he smiled, pulling her into a warm hug.

From a distance, Reid watched, a small smile tugging at his lips. He admired Morgan’s
ability to soothe a soul. It was effortless for him—a natural mix of empathy and strength Reid
had always looked up to.

Not wanting to interrupt their moment, Reid began to quietly retreat, but Morgan caught him.

“Hey, Reid,” he called. “Come here. Join us.”

Reid hesitated, then smiled, stepping toward them. “Good, because I was really hoping to
give Garcia a hug, too.”

Garcia beamed, spreading her arms wide. “Ohhh, my favorite doctor.”

Reid embraced her gently, and she let more tears fall, her shoulders relaxing in his arms.
When they pulled apart, Garcia linked her arms with both men.

“Did you know you guys are my favorite people?” she murmured contentedly. For the first
time since that night, she felt a sense of peace. In that moment, she knew—despite the
darkness they faced everyday—there was still so much good in this job.

Enough to make it worth it.

 Haircut
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 22. It's May 2010. Reid is
28, Morgan is 36.

On Saturday night, Morgan cooked a flavorful beef stir-fry with bell peppers and onions,
while Reid prepared a creamy corn soup and a fresh garden salad. The kitchen was alive with
the mingling aromas of sizzling beef and simmering corn, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Morgan casually placed the pepper shaker on the counter in a random spot, prompting Reid
to pick it up and return it to its rightful place beside the salt shaker. Morgan noticed this small
gesture, smiled, and wrapped his arms around Reid from behind, planting a gentle kiss on his
hair.

Reid had a peculiar habit of always placing the salt and pepper shakers next to each other,
even though he didn’t seem to care about the arrangement of other condiments. Whether at
home, Morgan’s place, or a restaurant, he never deviated from this routine. When Morgan
finally asked him why, wondering if Reid had OCD, Reid laughed and said, “They're you and
me. I always put them together,” melting Morgan’s heart.

They shared the meal at the table, the comforting sound of clinking utensils filling the space.
Clooney lay curled up at their feet.

“I’m going to get my hair cut tomorrow,” Reid declared suddenly.

Morgan paused mid-bite, looking up. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve already made the appointment.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, it’s getting too long.”

“How short are you going to cut it?”

“Short.”

Morgan made a face that was hard to describe, which made Reid chuckle. “What kind of
emotion is that face?”

“It’s a mix of sad and excited, I guess,” Morgan admitted.

Reid laughed again and shook his head. Morgan’s eyes flicked to the hair tie on Reid’s wrist.

“You won’t need me to tie your hair back when you wash your face anymore.”

That night, they lay side by side in bed, facing each other. Morgan’s hand moved
continuously through Reid’s wavy hair. From time to time, he leaned forward to kiss it.

“Morgan, will you still love me when I get older and go bald?” Reid murmured.

Morgan laughed, “I’ll love you no matter how you look.”

“Me too,” Reid replied, a smile touching his lips. “I’ll love you even if you go bald.”

Morgan burst into hearty laughter. “Thanks. That's really good to know.”

Morgan’s laughter softened, and his fingers gently traced Reid’s features, memorizing every
curve and angle. Reid mimicked the gesture, his fingers gliding over Morgan’s face. When
his hand brushed over Morgan’s chin and the familiar texture of his goatee, he chuckled
quietly, remembering their recent argument about his goatee. Morgan caught the laugh and
smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“No uncontrollable sexual urges today?” Morgan teased.

Reid’s cheeks flushed as he laughed shyly. “No. I’m… I’m okay today.”

Morgan’s amusement deepened, and they continued tracing each other’s faces, the intimacy
of the moment weaving a quiet connection between them.

“I love your left eye,” Reid said suddenly.

“My lazy eye?” Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Sometimes your gaze doesn’t quite match up, and that makes you look so…
attractive.”

Morgan’s lips twitched into a smile. “Really? You’ve never told me that before.”

He leaned forward and kissed Reid’s lips gently, his hand sliding down to stroke Reid’s arm.
The warmth of Morgan’s touch was comforting, and Reid drifted to sleep, feeling content and
loved.

***

Morgan leaned against the wall outside the barbershop, arms crossed, a mischievous grin
tugging at his lips. He'd been waiting for this moment ever since Reid mentioned he was
cutting his hair. Morgan couldn't resist the chance to tease him about the change.
The door jingled as it swung open, and Morgan straightened, ready to unleash a quip. But the
words never left his mouth.

Reid stepped out, his fingers brushing through his freshly cropped hair. His long, wavy locks
were gone, replaced by a textured short cut with tousled bangs that framed his face perfectly.
He looked like a prom king, and for a split second, Morgan forgot how to breathe.

Reid paused, noticing the way Morgan was staring at him, mouth slightly open.

“Well?” Reid asked, tilting his head. “What do you think?”

Morgan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His face flushed as his mind scrambled
for something—anything—to say. He was completely tongue-tied. Reid looked ridiculously
cute.

Reid blinked at Morgan’s rare display of flusteredness. “What? Is it… is it bad?” he asked,
self-conscious now, running his fingers through his hair again.

“No!” Morgan blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to
regain his composure. “I mean, no, it’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling
awkward under Reid’s curious gaze.

“You... You look incredible.” Morgan finally managed, his voice filled with genuine
admiration.

Reid raised his eyebrows, blushing. Morgan was still transfixed by Reid’s new look.

Reid reached out to lightly punch Morgan’s shoulder. “Hey, come back.”

Morgan smiled sheepishly and took Reid’s hand, their fingers lacing together naturally. Reid
glanced at him, catching the shyness in Morgan’s expression.

***

When they got back to Morgan’s house, Morgan wasted no time pulling Reid into a tight
embrace, his hands cradling Reid’s face as he captured his lips in a passionate kiss.

He pressed Reid against the wall, pinning his wrists as he deepened the kiss.

“Whoa. There it is,” Reid teased, his voice light.

“There what is?” Morgan asked, kissing his earlobe.

“This.” Reid smirked, his voice dropping into a whisper.

“Classic dominant behavior. You’re asserting control. Do you want to dominate me?”

Morgan’s lips, already trailing down the newly exposed skin of Reid’s neck, paused just
enough for him to murmur, “I don’t just want to dominate you. I want to own you. To make
sure no one else ever gets the chance.”
Reid’s breath hitched, but as Morgan’s hand left his wrist to start undoing the buttons of his
shirt, Reid used his free hand to lightly push Morgan’s face back.

“Okay, calm down,” Reid said with a sharp exhale, his cheeks noticeably flushed.

Morgan blinked, momentarily startled as he stepped back, “Too much?”

Reid, clearly amused, tilted his head and teased, “You get all worked up because I cut my
hair?”

Morgan shot him a mock-offended look and countered, “Who was the one begging for it
three times in one night last week?”

Reid glanced at Morgan, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face, before laughing softly.

“I’m making coffee,” he said, heading toward the kitchen.

Before he could get far, Morgan caught his wrist, tugging him gently back. “Hey,” he said
softly. “If you’re not into it—me getting... forceful—just say so. I wouldn't do it again.”

Reid paused, his gaze flickering with thought. He hugged Morgan, so he didn't have to face
him, and then whispered into his ear, “Tell me that you want to dominate me again.”

Morgan hesitated, his face flushing. Then, he complied, murmuring into Reid’s ear, “I want to
dominate you.”

Reid’s voice was faint as he said, “I think I like it.”

“Then let me pick up where we left off,” Morgan said longingly.

Reid pulled away from Morgan and leaned back against the wall.

“Go ahead,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, though his heart was racing.

Morgan dove in for a fervent kiss, his passion so intense that it made Reid chuckle softly.
Morgan, captivated by the casual elegance of Reid’s navy shirt, eagerly unbuttoned it, peeling
it off along with the undershirt beneath.

Breaking the kiss just long enough, Morgan tugged his own shirt over his head, revealing his
mocha-toned chest, which never failed to leave Reid giddy and breathless.

Their bare torsos pressed together as they kissed again, their breaths growing ragged.
Occasionally, they broke apart just enough to gulp in air before diving back in.

When Morgan’s hands moved to Reid’s belt, Reid mirrored the motion, reaching for
Morgan’s. Their kisses grew even hungrier as they stripped each other of their remaining
clothes.

Morgan’s hands gripped Reid’s hips, guiding him closer, their moans and sighs mingling in
the charged air.
Reid’s head fell back as soft, high-pitched gasps spilled from his lips, meeting the deep,
guttural sounds Morgan made in return.

Morgan’s warm hands roamed over Reid’s hips and waist, matching a steady rhythm that
Reid instinctively followed, his body moving in sync with Morgan’s. Reid’s arms wound
tightly around Morgan.

“Morgan, I'm coming...” Reid gasped.

“Me, too...” Morgan tightened his grip.

It was intense, passionate, and unrestrained, culminating in a shared release that left them
both trembling.

They rested their heads on each other’s shoulders, panting loudly, smiling.

“That was so good...” Morgan murmured.

He looked at Reid. “Did you like it?”

“Mm... it was sexy, but I think I prefer the bed.”

Morgan laughed softly, kissing the top of Reid’s head. “Fair enough. You’re so cute.”

“Let’s rinse off in the shower together. You’re used to being naked with me now, right?”

“Yeah... I guess.”

Morgan’s grin turned mischievous as he bent down, scooping Reid effortlessly into his arms.

“Whoa!” Reid yelped, clinging to Morgan’s neck.

Morgan chuckled, his gaze warm.

“Hold tight. Shower time.”

***

The next day, Reid arrived at work with his new haircut.

He breezed into the meeting room and took a seat at the round table.

Garcia and JJ gasped. Emily smiled. Rossi lifted an eyebrow.

Hotch stared at Reid for a moment and asked, ”What, did you join a boyband?”

Morgan couldn't hold back his laughter at Hotch's remark.

Reid looked genuinely confused. "No."

His response was so innocent and endearing that Morgan laughed some more, shaking his
head.
 Morgan’s 37th Birthday
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 5, Episode 23 and Season 6, Episode 1.
It's June 2010.

Throughout the Billy Flynn case, Morgan carried an almost unbearable intensity. His usual
steady demeanor had given way to a raw, volatile energy that seemed to push everyone away.

Garcia sighed. She’d seen this before—Morgan on edge whenever Reid was in danger. But
this time, it was different.

Flynn had set his sights on Detective Spicer’s daughter, Ellie. Morgan urged Spicer to wait
for backup, but the desperate father couldn’t stand idle. Spicer raced to the house where his
sister Kristin was looking after Ellie, unaware he was walking into Flynn’s trap.

The killer ambushed Morgan from behind as he arrived, leaving him bound and helpless.
Flynn made Morgan watch as he executed Detective Spicer in cold blood, brutalized Kristin,
and abducted Ellie.

By the time the team arrived, Kristin was barely clinging to life. Paramedics rushed her to the
hospital, but Morgan rejected any medical attention.

“Damn it! Just leave me alone!” he snapped at a paramedic trying to assess him.

Hotch approached with a steady calm. “How bad is he?”

“He needs a CAT scan, stitches, and rest,” the paramedic said, shaking his head.

But Morgan cut in sharply. “Hotch, I'm not going to any hospital until we find that little girl!”

“Morgan…”

“Hotch. This unsub raped the aunt and then beat her for no reason. She didn't resist, man.”

Morgan’s voice trembled with fury. “And he still pistol-whipped her until her ribs were
crushed. He killed Spicer while he was on his knees!”

Morgan’s fists clenched, and his eyes burned with rage.

“I want this guy.”

Hotch met his gaze. “We’ll get him.”

***

When JJ and Reid arrived at the scene, they hadn’t yet grasped the gravity of what had
happened. JJ’s face fell as she took in Morgan’s injuries. “Derek…” she began, but Morgan
waved her off.

“I’m alright.”

Reid, oblivious to the tension, frowned. “You don’t look alright.”

Morgan glared at him. “Reid, drop it!” The sharpness in his tone made Reid flinch. “I’m…
sorry,” he murmured, stepping back.

Morgan stalked away, a storm of barely-contained fury. JJ and Reid exchanged a wary glance
before Hotch filled them in.

***

Later, Morgan’s tension boiled over during a call with Garcia.

“Garcia, sorry isn’t helping anybody! I need results!” he barked.

Reid, overhearing, winced. Morgan snapping at Garcia was practically unheard of. But Reid
knew better than to intervene now; Morgan’s temper wasn’t something that could be eased
with logic.

Garcia, ever the optimist, greeted Reid when he called her next. “Dr. Reid, how can I be of
service?”

He felt some of his tension ease at her cheerful tone. “You holding up okay?” He asked.

“Oh, you know me. How’s my main man doing?”

“Assuming you’re not talking about me,” Reid quipped.

Garcia laughed, and Reid continued, “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be the unsub when
Morgan finds him.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Has he ever yelled at you before?”

“Touché.”

Her laugh lightened the moment, and it helped Reid push thoughts of Morgan aside. There
was no time to dwell on emotions—the case demanded all of them.

***

Garcia came through with a lead, locating Flynn’s RV. Morgan and Reid were the first to
investigate.
Inside, Reid spotted strands of dark hair on the floor. “He cut her hair,” he observed.

Morgan’s expression darkened. “I swear to God, when I get my hands on this son of a—”

“Wait,” Reid interrupted. “That could be a good thing. Why disguise someone you plan to
kill?”

Morgan fixed Reid with a hard stare, considering his words. After a moment, he let out a
slow, tense breath. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly.

***

Reid had been right: Ellie was alive. Flynn hadn’t abducted her to harm her, but to keep her
as company.

JJ convinced Flynn over the radio to let Ellie go. Soon the team received word that Ellie was
found and safe in police custody. Relief rippled through the team.

Flynn had barricaded himself inside a house. The BAU and local police surrounded the
property, carefully strategizing their next move. Then Flynn made his demand: he wanted
Morgan to come inside—alone.

Without hesitation, Morgan stepped forward.

“Morgan! What are you doing?!” Reid’s voice rang out, his panic raw as he tried to follow,
but Rossi caught his arm.

Morgan didn’t so much as glance back.

“Morgan, wait,” Hotch called firmly. “We’ll go in together.”

“Hotch, I stand by my profile. He won’t kill me unless I show him fear. Let me do this. This
one’s mine.”

Hotch hesitated, then gave a nod.

Reid watched helplessly as Morgan disappeared into the house, a heavy sense of dread
washing over him—not for Morgan’s safety, but for something deeper.

Morgan could handle himself; of that, Reid had no doubt. But the sight of Morgan's back—
rigid, distant, unreachable—broke Reid’s heart.

Reid's voice wouldn’t reach him. His gaze wouldn’t penetrate that wall. In this moment, it
was as if Morgan didn’t even care that Reid was there at all.

Reid stood frozen, overwhelmed by a crushing hopelessness.

***
The moment Flynn raised his weapon, Morgan’s gun was already up. The sharp cracks of
several gunshots echoed through the house. Flynn crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Outside, the tension lifted as the team learned that the case was over. But as Reid watched
Morgan emerge, leading the last hostage to safety, that same wall remained.

***

After the Billy Flynn case, Reid withdrew from Morgan. They maintained the usual
professional interactions at work, but beyond that, Reid kept his distance.

Reid wasn’t trying to punish Morgan; he just couldn’t sort through his emotions. He was
angry, overwhelmed, and unsure how to express himself. For now, it felt safer to stay away
until he could figure things out.

Morgan, on the other hand, had an idea why Reid was avoiding him. He knew he owed an
apology—for making Reid worry and snapping at him. Yet, a part of Morgan was angry, too,
or maybe just hurt.

Why hasn’t he checked on me? Doesn’t he understand what I’ve been through? Doesn’t he
realize he’s the only one who could comfort me? Morgan’s frustration simmered, a turbulent
mix of loneliness and longing.

After spending Saturday alone—when he would normally be with Reid—Morgan felt

overwhelmed by isolation and frustration.

***

The following weekend marked the start of June, and Morgan traveled to Chicago to
celebrate his birthday with his mother and sisters, as was his tradition. Reid never called—not
once during his time there.

His actual birthday was on Monday. At work, Garcia presented a large chocolate cake, just
like last year. The previous birthday had been a sweet milestone; Morgan and Reid had just
started officially dating. Morgan had kissed Reid on the cheek in front of everyone, making
Reid blush while the team smiled warmly.

This year, though, the tension between them was obvious to everyone. The celebration was
low-key, and no one teased or asked questions.

That night, Morgan sat on the couch with a beer in hand, absentmindedly stroking Clooney’s
head. He kept glancing at his phone, hoping Reid might call. By the time the clock neared 11
p.m., the silence felt suffocating.

Finally, he gave in and started dialing Reid’s number—when the doorbell rang.

Morgan opened the door, and there he was.

“Reid…”

Without hesitation, Morgan pulled Reid into a tight embrace, holding him as if he might
vanish.

“What took you so long?” Morgan murmured against him.

“Happy birthday,” Reid replied softly, his words muffled in Morgan’s embrace.

“I missed you.” Morgan said.

“Yeah… me too.”

“I missed you.” Morgan repeated, his voice breaking. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“You didn’t call me either.”

For a long moment, they just held each other, the tension easing as they shared the comfort of
the embrace. Finally, Morgan asked, “So… should we talk?”

“Yeah.”

They settled on the couch, cups of tea in hand.

“I’ll start with the less complicated one,” Reid said firmly, fixing Morgan with a steady gaze.
“Don’t ever yell at Garcia again.”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard by Reid’s sternness, but he nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

Reid held his gaze for a moment longer, then said, “Okay.”

After a pause, Reid exhaled and continued, “You do this sometimes—you shut everyone out.
It’s like you put up this wall that says, ‘Don’t come near me.’”

Morgan nodded, fully aware of that part of himself.

“Even to me,” Reid added.

Morgan sighed, running a hand over his face. “Reid, all I could think about was saving Ellie.
You understand that, right?”

“I do,” Reid replied. “And that’s why I’ve learned to give up when you’re like that. There’s
nothing I can do to reach you.”

Morgan frowned. “Give up? Give up on what?”

“When you went into that house alone, did you know I was watching you? Did you hear me
when I shouted your name? Were you...were you even aware I was there?”
“Reid…”

“I was watching your back, Morgan. And I knew you wouldn’t turn around.”

Morgan’s chest tightened at the thought of what Reid must have felt. “Reid… I’m so sorry.”

“I felt helpless,” Reid admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “Like my voice couldn’t reach
you. And I wondered… is this how I lose you someday?”

Morgan took a breath, his gaze locked onto Reid's.

“No, Reid. I wasn’t thinking about you because I wasn’t putting myself at risk. I knew I could
handle it.”

He paused for a moment, then continued, “Do you remember that case—the one where I
drove the ambulance loaded with explosives? The thought of death flickered in my mind.”

Reid’s expression tightened, fear flashing in his eyes.

“But then, I heard you. Your voice. Something you once said to me.”

Morgan glanced down at Reid’s hands, his tone softening. “You told me, ‘Can you not do that
again? Risk your life like that.’ Do you remember?”

“Yes,” Reid whispered.

“I saw you too, Reid. Even though you weren’t there, I saw your face so clearly.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly.

“It was then I decided I couldn’t die. Your voice reached me—and it saved me. More than
that, it became a promise I carry now. A promise never to risk my life in the reckless way I
once did. Not when I have a future with you, Reid.”

Reid stared at him, seemingly at a loss for words.

Morgan stared back at Reid, waiting for Reid to say something.

They held each other’s gaze in silence.

Finally, Morgan shifted awkwardly. “Did… did I pass?”

Reid laughed softly. “Yeah. You passed.”

The mood lightened briefly before Reid leaned back, his expression turning thoughtful. “Now
it’s your turn. Why were you mad at me?”

Morgan hesitated before muttering, “Because you were supposed to comfort me, and you
didn’t.”

Reid blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “That’s… That's it?” he asked.

Morgan blushed but pushed forward. “Reid, you didn’t even ask me how I was doing.”

“You didn’t let me,” Reid countered. “Don’t you remember how you snapped at JJ and me
when we tried to check on you?”

“That was in the middle of the case! What about after? Or the next day? Or the one after that?
You had two weeks, Reid. Were you even worried about me?”

Reid frowned. “You usually come to me when you need me.”

“I needed you more than anything! And you should have known that!”

Morgan’s voice cracked, raw emotion spilling out. Reid’s breath hitched as he realized how
deeply Morgan had been hurt—and how alone he must have felt.

“Don’t you know you’re the only person who can comfort me?”

“I’m sorry,” Reid murmured. “I’m so sorry, Morgan.”

Regret hit him hard, and he lowered his gaze.

“Comfort me,” Morgan murmured.

Reid shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Morgan.

“I missed you so much,” Morgan whispered, burying his face in Reid’s shoulder as Reid
gently rubbed his back.

“Are we good?” Reid asked softly.

“No.”

Reid pulled back slightly, startled. “No?”

Morgan smirked faintly. “We haven’t kissed.”

Reid let out a laugh, cupped Morgan’s face, and kissed him. Morgan responded, deepening
the kiss, his hands moving to hold Reid closer. When Reid began to pull away, Morgan
stopped him, his lips lingering until the kiss said everything he couldn’t put into words.

Finally, they parted.

“Are we good now?” Reid asked again, his voice light.

Morgan smiled shyly. “We’re good.”

Reid glanced at the clock. “It’s past midnight. Your birthday’s officially over, but…”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a small box. “I have a present for you.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose as he accepted it. “Wow. Thanks. I wasn’t expecting this.”
Inside was a sleek black leather keychain, engraved with both of their initials.

D.M. & S.R.

Morgan’s brow furrowed slightly in astonishment. His eyes shimmered as he looked up at

Reid.

“It matches mine,” Reid said, holding up his own brown keychain.

Morgan traced the engraved initials. “Reid, it’s perfect...”

He leaned in, kissed Reid gently, and whispered, “Thank you. I love you.”

Reid smiled, his voice warm. “I love you too.”

Morgan pulled Reid into a tight embrace, a wave of emotion swelling in his chest. He
realized how deeply he depended on Reid as his source of emotional strength.
 Summer 2010
Chapter Notes

It's August 2010. Reid is 28, Morgan is 37 years old.

“Welcome home.”

Reid said, not looking up from his book. He was perched on Morgan’s sofa, wearing his
glasses—his usual Saturday look.

“Hey.” Morgan, back from his morning jog, feigned a dramatic frown.

“Is that how you greet your husband?”

“Ha ha,” Reid deadpanned, his eyes still glued to the page.

Morgan smirked and circled around the sofa. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around
Reid’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Ugh! Morgan!” Reid bolted upright, brushing at his neck. “You’re sweaty!”

Morgan’s laughter filled the room as he straightened. “Guess you shouldn’t ignore me, then.”

Reid sighed, shaking his head as he settled back into his spot.

“When did you come?” Morgan asked, still chuckling.

“About thirty minutes ago,” Reid replied, flipping a page.

“I’ll go shower.”

“Go.”

Morgan laughed again and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Reid to his book.

July 2010 had come and gone in a blur. Morgan and Reid had joined JJ, Garcia, and Emily to
watch the Fourth of July fireworks, which was becoming their annual event.

Now, August was here, and the summer heat showed no mercy. Reid, sitting comfortably in
the air-conditioned living room, couldn’t fathom why anyone would willingly jog in this kind
of weather.
Today, the FBI was hosting a charity basketball event featuring a college team as their
opponents. Morgan was playing for the FBI’s team, and Reid was going to watch the game
too.

***

The gym buzzed with energy as cheers echoed off the high walls. The FBI's charity
basketball event had drawn quite a crowd, and Morgan was the star of the Bureau’s team.

Reid scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar cluster of BAU faces.

“Reid! Over here!” Garcia waved enthusiastically, her pom-poms glittering with every
bounce.

Reid climbed the bleachers to join her, Rossi, and JJ.

On the court, Morgan was a blur of strength and agility, stealing the ball with ease and
sinking shot after shot. “He’s on fire today,” JJ said, watching Morgan effortlessly block a
shot.

“He always was the show-off type,” Rossi teased, smirking.

Reid settled in beside them, smiling as his eyes followed Morgan’s every move. Morgan
dribbled past two defenders and slammed the ball through the hoop with a flourish. The
crowd erupted, and Reid felt a flush of pride warming his chest. That was his boyfriend out
there, commanding the court like a seasoned pro.

“Somebody’s impressed,” Garcia cooed, leaning close to Reid.

Reid straightened, pushing his glasses up in an attempt to look less obvious.

“Hey, Einstein,” Garcia whispered into Reid’s ear, “Check out the ladies in the front row.”

“What about them?”

“They’re here for Derek.”

“What? Why?”

“SSA Derek Morgan is famous around the Bureau. All the women in the building think he’s
super hot.”

“Oh... right.” Reid glanced toward the group Garcia had mentioned. Sure enough, the women
were focused on Morgan’s every move, their excited squeals and cheers rising above the
noise of the crowd.

“Wow,” Reid murmured, raising his eyebrows.

During halftime, Morgan jogged off the court, a towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes
immediately sought Reid in the stands. Spotting him, Morgan made a beeline for their group,
ignoring the hoots and cheers from the rest of the crowd.

Reid stood awkwardly as Morgan approached, sweat glistening on his brow.

“Enjoying the game?” Morgan asked.

“Did you know all those women are cheering for you?” Reid blurted.

Morgan shot them a quick glance. They were unabashedly staring.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve come to watch me play so many times. You’ve never noticed?”

“I don’t... notice those things.”

Morgan chuckled. “Watch this.” Turning back to the crowd, he waved at the women and blew
them a playful kiss. Their excited squeals and laughter filled the air.

Reid’s eyes widened, and his brow furrowed. He scowled at Morgan, clearly annoyed.

Reid grabbed the back of Morgan’s neck and kissed him, short but fervent. Reid could hear
the gasps from the women.

Morgan blinked in surprise, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Whoa, Reid. I thought you
hated me when I’m sweaty.”

Before Reid could respond, Morgan leaned in and kissed him back with equal passion. The
women squealed again.

“Time to get back out there,” Morgan said with a grin, jogging back toward the court.

Only then did Reid notice the knowing smirks from his BAU teammates. His face turned red.

“Well, well,” Garcia teased, linking her arm through his. “I’ve never seen that side of Dr.
Reid.”

“What side?”

“The territorial side.”

Reid shook his head. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“What was your intention?” Garcia asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

“To remind Morgan that it’s rude,” Reid said, crossing his arms. Then, with a sly grin, he
added, “The only girl he’s allowed to flirt with in front of me is you.”

Garcia beamed, leaning into him. “I love this crazy, twisted love triangle.”

“What?” Reid asked, confused.

Garcia chuckled. “I don’t think Derek got your message, though. If anything, you just made
him happier.”

Reid sighed, glancing at Morgan on the court, who was playing with renewed energy.

***

After the game, JJ headed home, and Rossi treated Reid, Morgan, and Garcia to an Italian
restaurant.

Reid and Rossi were immersed in a conversation about Dante’s depiction of love, while
Morgan listened to Garcia vent about her latest spat with Kevin.

Rossi swirled his wine thoughtfully. “In Purgatorio, Dante paints love as the root of all action
—natural or willed. As he writes, ‘Né creator né creatura mai... fu sanza amore.’”

Reid adjusted his glasses. “True, but it also echoes Augustine. ‘L’amor che muove il sole e
l’altre stelle’ isn’t just celestial—it’s redemptive, a correction of disordered affections.”

Garcia, already tipsy, turned to them with dramatic flair. “You know, boys, love is like a crazy
algorithm—a beautifully chaotic piece of data that needs proper coding. Dante said
everything in this universe runs on love—natural or willed, right? Well, like code, love has to
be organized. If it’s messy, things just… break.”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head as he worked on his plate of pasta.

***

Saturday night bedtime had become a cherished ritual for Reid and Morgan. After showering
and slipping into their nightwear, there was only one thing left to do.

Reid preferred complete darkness, while Morgan liked the side lamp on so he could see Reid.

“Last time, we left the light on,” Reid reminded him, reaching to pull the string and turn the
lamp off.

They sat on the bed in the dark, their breaths already uneven, anticipation hanging heavy in
the air. Reid’s chest rose and fell quickly, while Morgan’s heart raced in sync.

Their lips met in a deep kiss, Morgan’s hands tenderly cupping Reid’s face and neck as the
kiss deepened.

“Mm...” Reid’s soft moans filled the room, the sound both vulnerable and electric.

Clothes fell away piece by piece, and Morgan gently guided Reid back onto the bed. His lips
trailed over Reid’s skin, his hands mapping every curve and angle with care.
When Morgan’s fingers brushed the crest of Reid’s chest, Reid gasped sharply, his body
tensing.

“Do you like me touching here?” Morgan whispered, his voice trembling with excitement.

Tracing gentle circles, Morgan’s fingers teased the sensitive spot, drawing a shuddering
breath from Reid. He followed with kisses, his lips lingering on the hardened tip, his tongue
exploring. His right hand gently pinched the other tip. Reid’s moans grew louder,
unrestrained.

As Morgan adored him with whispers of love, their bodies moved together, the rhythm
unhurried but intensely intimate. “Reid, I love you. You’re so beautiful,” Morgan murmured,
his words brushing against Reid’s ear like a caress.

Afterward, Reid lay back, completely at ease, the contentment radiating from him. He let out
a soft sigh, unwilling to move.

“Can you wipe me off? I feel too lazy,” Reid mumbled sleepily.

Morgan smiled, kissing Reid’s temple before getting up. He dampened a towel, turned on the
bedside lamp, and returned to clean Reid’s body with gentle, careful movements.

When he was done, Morgan lay back down, chuckling as he gazed at Reid in the dim light.
Stark naked, completely relaxed, Reid seemed blissfully unaware of his state.

“You’re not shy anymore?” Morgan teased, grinning.

“Hmm?”

“You’re naked,” Morgan said, his tone playful.

Reid’s eyes widened slightly, and he grabbed the blanket, draping it over himself with a huff.
Morgan chuckled again, his laugh warm and affectionate.

“Goodnight. I love you,” Morgan said, pulling Reid closer.

Reid smiled against Morgan’s chest, his voice barely above a whisper. “Goodnight.”
 JJ
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 6, Episode 2. It's October 2010. Reid is 28,
Morgan is 37 years old.

The announcement caught everyone off guard, including JJ herself.

The Pentagon had offered JJ the position of liaison for the Department of Defense. Despite
refusing the promotion twice, JJ was forced to accept the position under Strauss’ authority.

Her last day at the BAU seemed to arrive in a blur.

Morgan found Reid alone in the meeting room, sorting through some files.

“Reid, there you are. JJ’s leaving the office. Aren’t you gonna say goodbye?”

“Um... it’s... it’s alright. I’m going to her house this weekend, so.”

“It’ll be your last chance to see her in the office.”

“So?”

“Reid, I know saying goodbye is tough, but—”

“But it’s not. It’s not goodbye, Morgan. I’ll see her almost every weekend. I’m... I’m Henry’s
godfather. Garcia’s having breakfast with JJ every Tuesday, and they’ve said I could join
them. It’s not goodbye at all.”

Reid’s words tumbled out in a rush. He turned back to the files, his brow furrowed.

“It’s not goodbye,” he repeated quietly.

Morgan sighed. “Okay.”

Leaving Reid behind, he strode toward the elevator, where JJ was still chatting with Garcia.

“JJ,” he called, smiling. “I know I already hugged you goodbye, but I need another one.”

JJ laughed as they embraced again. “Oh, Morgan, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Where’s Spence?”
“I told him to come, but he wouldn’t. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” JJ said softly. “I know it’s hard for him. Take good care of him, Morgan.”

“I will.”

“And your baby girl.”

“Always.”

JJ turned to Garcia, who was openly sobbing, her face streaked with tears and her nose red
from crying.

“I’ll see you Tuesday,” JJ said, squeezing her tightly.

Garcia sniffled, nodding. “Yeah.”

The elevator arrived. JJ stepped inside and waved as the doors closed. The moment she was
alone, tears spilled down her cheeks.

By the time she reached the parking lot, her emotions were barely under control. No one’s
going to see me anyway, she thought, walking briskly to her car.

“JJ!”

Reid’s voice rang out, echoing in the empty parking space.

JJ quickly wiped her tears and turned.

“You came,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she forced a smile.

“Yeah.”

JJ waited for Reid to say something, but he just stared at her with a distressed expression,
saying nothing.

JJ let out a small laugh and prompted him, “Well?”

“I, uh... I just...” Reid shifted uncomfortably. He exhaled before he continued, “I just
remembered... the first time I saw you. I was... I was stunned.”

“Stunned?” JJ repeated.

“Yeah,” Reid said with a small chuckle. “I expected all my coworkers to be older men, like
Gideon. Then there you were. So young and... and so pretty...”

JJ laughed softly.

“I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

“What is this? Are you confessing your love?” JJ teased, and Reid let out a laugh.
“No, not really. But, uh... what I’m trying to say is, I’ve worked with you for six years, and
now I can tell you that you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met—not just outside, but
inside, too.”

Tears welled in JJ’s eyes, and she couldn’t stop them from falling. Seeing her cry made
Reid’s own tears spill over.

“I’ll miss you at work, but I’m not going to say goodbye,” Reid said softly.

“I’ll never say goodbye to you, Spence,” JJ replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Reid nodded and stepped forward, pulling her into an embrace. He hesitated at first but soon
wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“See you on Sunday,” Reid murmured as he pulled back.

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” he promised with a smile.

***

“Don’t move.”

Morgan gripped Reid's right foot firmly.

“It’ll be over soon.”

“Mm.” Reid responded absently, his focus fixed on the book in his hands.

Morgan cutting Reid’s toenails had become a routine ever since Reid’s left leg had been in a
cast.

Once he finished, Morgan peppered Reid’s foot with kisses as he always did. Reid, long
accustomed to the ritual, paid it no mind and continued reading.

"Hey, Reid."

"Hmm?"

"Are you doing okay?"

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is it a good book?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What’s it about?”

“Mm-hmm.”
Morgan narrowed his eyes and, in one smooth motion, slipped the book from Reid’s hands
and placed it on the side table.

“Hey,” Reid protested.

“I asked you if you were okay.”

Reid hesitated before replying. “I’m okay, actually.”

Morgan studied him, waiting silently for more.

“She didn’t just disappear like Gideon did,” Reid said. Seeing the flicker of concern on
Morgan’s face, he elaborated, “I’ve been meeting her regularly. It helps. Predictable routines
make transitions easier for me.”

“Good.” Morgan nodded.

“Plus, I have a clear role. Watching Henry grow. It gives me something to focus on. Honestly,
I’m doing better than I expected.”

Morgan’s expression softened, but Reid added, “It’s just... I’m not used to not seeing JJ at
work. Every morning when I get to the office, there’s this... ache. Like something’s missing.”

Morgan wrapped his arm around Reid’s shoulders. For a moment, they sat in silence, letting
the weight of Reid’s words settle.

“I miss JJ too, you know,” Morgan said softly.

“Yeah, I know.”

Morgan smiled and asked, “Do you remember when JJ told us why she was afraid of the
woods? Man, we were so much younger.”

Reid’s face lit up with the memory. “Yeah, I remember. That story about being a teenage
camp counselor in Vermont?”

“Pure horror,” Morgan said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“You were freaked out,” Reid teased.

“Reid, you were sweating. I saw you gulp. Twice.”

“And then you looked at her with this dead-serious face and said, ‘Are you serious?’ And JJ
just went, ‘No.’”

Both men burst out laughing, the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

“She got us so good,” Morgan said, still chuckling.

“She totally did.”

“You were wearing the same glasses back then.”

“Yep. You and JJ were always joking that I looked like a 1960s accountant.”

Morgan laughed again.

“Didn’t you have a crush on her?” Morgan teased.

Reid smiled bashfully. “I did.”

“You never told her?”

“No,” Reid admitted, glancing down. “Maybe I should have at least tried.”

“Tried?” Morgan arched an eyebrow.

“Do you think I would’ve had a chance?”

Morgan tilted his head, genuinely considering the question. “You and JJ... maybe,” he
admitted slowly. The thought grew more plausible the longer he pondered it.

“Too bad, though,” Morgan added with a sly smile. Leaning in, he kissed Reid lightly. “JJ’s
found Will, and...”

Another kiss.

“You’re marrying me.”

Morgan’s words sent a fluttering warmth through Reid’s chest, like happiness with wings.
Reid smiled at him, his eyes soft.

“Do you want to come with me this Sunday to see JJ?”

“Sure.”

“Henry’s turning two next month. He’s started talking in sentences—it’s adorable.”

Morgan smiled and pulled Reid into a warm embrace.

“Also, help me pick out a birthday present for him?”

“I’d love to,” Morgan said, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Reid’s temple.
 Ellie
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 5. It's October 2010. Reid is
28, Morgan is 37.

It was the third time Reid joined Garcia and JJ for their Tuesday morning breakfast. By now,
he’d learned that “girl talk” often veered into surprisingly candid territory—including
discussions about their sex life. Reid couldn’t help but notice how casually they approached a
topic he was sure most guys barely touched on with friends.

Garcia was mid-sentence, animatedly describing a new sex toy she’d ordered online, when
Reid nearly spilled his coffee.

“Sex toys? Y-you and Kevin use sex toys?” he stammered, his expression one of pure
bewilderment.

Garcia smirked, clearly enjoying his reaction. “You and Derek don’t?”

Reid’s face turned crimson. “No!”

Garcia laughed, delighted by his embarrassment. “Oh, come on. Everybody does, boy
genius.”

JJ rolled her eyes and cut in, “Don’t listen to her, Spence. For the record, Will and I don’t.”

Reid exhaled in relief. “Thank God.”

After a moment, though, he hesitated. “It’s just... I really don’t know what the standards are.
Morgan always goes with whatever I prefer, but honestly... I’m not sure what he thinks about
our... you know.”

“I’m sure he loves whatever you guys do,” JJ assured him with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, I know. He does. He loves it—maybe a little too much, but...”

“But?” Garcia prompted, leaning in with interest.

Reid shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe he’d like to try different things, too.”

“You mean... toys?” Garcia asked, her eyes lighting up mischievously.

“No!” Reid said quickly, his blush deepening.

Garcia gave him a sly look. “Alright, Doctor. What do you do?”

Reid swallowed hard, “We just... we just hold each other really tight.”

Garcia and JJ blinked at him.

“Doctor,” Garcia began, “are we still talking about sex?”

“Yeah! Yeah, we, um, you know, finish, so...”

“How?” Garcia pressed, “By just holding each other tight?”

“And, uh, rub...,” Reid mumbled.

“Rub?”

“Yeah, we just... kinda rub until we...we... culminate. Is that... is that weird?” He looked up,
flustered.

“It’s not weird,” JJ said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile before he could go into
further detail.

Garcia, however, shot JJ a mock glare, annoyed at her for cutting Reid short. JJ shook her
head at Garcia, silently warning her not to push it.

“What?” Reid frowned, then straightened in his chair. “It’s called frottage in French. It’s a
legitimate sex act! I just don’t know if that’s what people mainly do...”

“Spence.” JJ tried to stop him, but it was too late.

Reid barreled on, as if defending his position with a verbal thesis. “The term derives from the
French verb frotter, meaning ‘to rub.’ It was popularized by German sexologist Richard von
Krafft-Ebing in his book Psychopathia Sexualis, borrowing from French terminology. It’s an
act that stimulates sexual gratification by rubbing...”

“Okay, genius, shut up!” Garcia finally interjected, raising a hand to cut him off. “We know
what frottage is!”

JJ pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to laugh.

Garcia turned to Reid with a deadpan expression. “Just promise me you won’t tell Derek we
talked about your sex life. He’d kill us.”

“I won’t,” Reid said with a laugh. Then, glancing at his watch, he added, “Garcia, we need to
get going.”

***

When Reid and Garcia walked into the meeting room, Morgan was looking at his phone, a
soft, sappy expression on his face.
“That’s the face of a guy who just got a message from either his new girlfriend or a daughter
who adores him.” Reid observed.

“Is that Ellie again?” Emily asked, a flicker of concern in her tone.

“She texts me every morning on her way to school.”

“What did she say?” Reid asked.

“Well, she’s already got herself a BFF named Jill, and she thinks she wants to play soccer.”

Emily couldn’t help but notice just how frequently Morgan’s phone buzzed with messages
recently.

Later that evening, while they were discussing a case, his phone chimed again.

“Oh, please don’t tell me that’s Ellie again.”

“She just wants me to say goodnight.”

Emily shook her head disapprovingly but said nothing.

Morgan sighed. “Trust me, Prentiss, I get it. But I’m the first person she wants to speak to in
the morning. She won't go to bed unless she talks to me at night. The girl’s got PTSD. She’s
got to vent to someone.”

“A professional,” Emily countered, her voice firm.

“Or someone who’s been there,” Morgan shot back, his tone resolute.

***

The midday hum of the FBI bullpen at Quantico was interrupted by an unexpected visitor.
Derek Morgan looked up from his paperwork to see Ellie Spicer standing in the doorway.
Though she’d grown a little taller, her big, determined eyes and her lip, pursed with resolve,
were unmistakable.

“Ellie.”

Morgan crouched to meet her gaze, “How did you get past airport security?”

“I stayed real close to this family. Nobody asked. If they had, I would have said I was 12.”

Morgan’s brow furrowed. “Ellie, this isn’t all right. You can’t just run away like this.”

She glared at him through her tears.

“But that house is awful. This older boy tries to watch me in the shower.”

Morgan’s heart twisted at the words.

“You can’t send me back there,” She looked at Morgan with desperate, pleading eyes. “I
didn’t know where else to go.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, his voice steady. “I promise you. I’ll find you a better home.”

She nodded weakly, her tears starting to subside as Morgan held her firmly.

Emily had been watching the exchange. After Garcia took Ellie away, Emily asked Morgan
softly,

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” Morgan shook his head.

***

Throughout the day, Morgan and Garcia often discussed Ellie, strategizing their next steps.

“No, I mean, as soon as Ellie crossed state lines, it became a federal case.” Garcia said,
“Which means she can stay in federal custody.”

“That’s good,” Morgan replied. “So we don’t have to send her back to LA.”

“You’re right.”

“What are the chances of getting her transferred to Virginia?”

“They’re actually quite good.”

“That’s great. Thank you, baby girl.”

***

That evening, Morgan called his sister, Sarah, in Chicago. She was working as a freelance
writer and editor, a flexible, location-independent career that made her the perfect person to
ask for help.

“I need a favor, Sis,” Morgan said, launching into an explanation of the situation. “I’m
working on getting Ellie transferred to Child Protective Services in Virginia, but it’s going to
take some time. She needs stability in the meantime.”

Sarah listened quietly, her tone warm when she finally spoke. “What do you need me to do?”

Morgan exhaled, relieved. “I was hoping you could come to D.C. and look after her in one of
my properties here for a few weeks. Just until I can sort this out.”

Sarah didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Derek. I’ll pack my bags.”

Later that night, Morgan shared the news with Reid.

“She’s coming?”
“Yeah, she didn’t even blink. She’ll be staying at my property house nearby.”

Reid smiled. “Let me know how I can help.”

***

When Sarah arrived, Reid greeted her awkwardly, shifting on his feet as he offered a shy
handshake.

“Hi, Sarah. It’s been a while.”

Sarah grinned and pulled him into a warm hug instead.

“Spencer, it’s great to see you again.”

Reid stiffened for a moment before awkwardly patting her back. Morgan, watching the
exchange, chuckled.

“Derek talks about you all the time,” Sarah teased as she stepped back. “Honestly, I feel like I
know you better than my own brother sometimes.”

Reid flushed, but Sarah’s warmth eased his nerves.

The three of them worked together to prepare for Ellie’s stay, organizing the house and
making it feel welcoming. JJ, Emily, and Garcia pitched in with groceries, clothes, and other
essentials.

Sarah devoted herself to making Ellie feel at home, creating a warm and stable environment
for her. Morgan and Reid visited daily after work to spend time with Ellie and assist Sarah,
except when they were away for a case.

At first, Ellie seemed happy, even hopeful. But cracks soon began to show.

One afternoon, Ellie caught sight of Morgan and Reid sharing a light kiss in the kitchen. Her
eyes widened in surprise, and a shadow of disapproval crossed her face.

From that moment, her attitude toward Reid shifted.

Ellie began treating Reid with open hostility whenever Morgan wasn’t around. She would
throw away anything Reid gave her and speak to him in a condescending tone. Around
Morgan, she remained the sweet, innocent girl he adored, but Sarah saw through her act.

“You talk weird,” Ellie said one afternoon, staring at Reid as he explained how to work on a
puzzle to keep her entertained.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you even have friends? Or is it just Agent Morgan who feels sorry for you?”
Reid blinked, taken aback. “I...I have friends. I thought you might enjoy solving this puzzle
together.”

Ellie snorted. “So boring.”

Later that week, when Reid offered her a beautifully illustrated book he’d picked out, Ellie
grabbed it only to toss it onto the floor.

“I don’t want your stupid book,” she snapped.

Reid sighed but quietly picked up the book.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said softly.

“I don’t.”

Ellie’s behavior became bolder as she realized Reid wouldn’t retaliate. One day, after Morgan
left the house, she deliberately knocked over a cup of coffee near Reid’s papers.

“Oops,” she said with a smirk. “You’re so clumsy.”

“Ellie!” Sarah’s voice cut through the tension. “Come here. Now.”

Ellie hesitated, but Sarah’s firm tone left no room for argument.

“What?” Ellie muttered, arms crossed.

Sarah knelt to her level, her expression firm.

“Enough is enough. I’ve seen how you treat Spencer when Derek isn’t around. It’s cruel, and
it needs to stop now.”

“Why do you care?” Ellie shot back. “He’s not your boyfriend.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “No, but he’s family. And I don’t let anyone treat family like garbage.
If you want to be part of this family, you need to start acting like it.”

Later, Reid approached Sarah gently. “Sarah, it’s okay. Ellie’s been through a lot. She’s
testing the adults around her because she’s afraid we’ll leave. We just need to be patient.”

But Sarah wasn’t convinced patience was enough. That evening, she confronted Morgan.

“Derek, honestly, my patience is wearing thin. You have no idea how cruel she gets with
Spencer.”

“Sarah, Reid said it’s not that bad. Ellie’s just moody and snaps sometimes. She’s only nine—
how bad can it really be? Please, just try to be patient with her.”

But one afternoon, Sarah overheard a conversation between Ellie and Reid. Ellie’s voice was
sharp, chilling.
“When I’m old enough, I’ll hurt the people you love. Then you’ll finally know what I’m
going through.”

Sarah also found the book Reid had given Ellie torn to shreds and thrown into the trash.

She went straight to Morgan with the shredded book, recounting Ellie’s words verbatim. His
face fell as he realized the gravity of the situation, a mix of heartbreak and anger clouding his
expression.

***

Morgan sat down with Ellie later, his voice firm but gentle.

“Ellie, we need to talk.”

“Is it about Spencer?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good, because I needed to talk to you about him too.”

“Okay.”

Ellie looked into Morgan's eyes and began to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked softly, hoping Ellie would open up and let him understand
what was going on.

“When you’re not around, he touches me.”

“What?”

“He touches my butt every time he's near me!”

Morgan’s heart sank. Exhaustion flickered across his face as he sighed.

Ellie continued, “I don’t want you to bring him here ever again. And I want you to break up
with him.”

Morgan leaned back, gazing at Ellie for a few moments before he said slowly,

“Reid never does that to you. If you don’t want him here, I won’t be here either.”

Ellie’s eyes widened in surprise. “You trust him more than me?”

“Yes, Ellie. I trust him with my life.”

Her expression twisted into a scowl, a flicker of anger and defiance in her eyes.

“Ellie, when you hurt Spencer, you’re hurting me too. Do you understand that?”
“You hate me now?” she scoffed.

“No, I don’t hate you. I love you. But I don’t love the things you’ve done. That’s not who you
are. You’re hurt, and I get that. But you don’t have to let that define you. You can still be the
real you—the kind, smart, brave girl who always stood up for her friends.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I do. Your father told me about you—how you defended your classmates, even when bullies
turned on you for it.”

Ellie’s eyes widened as the words sank in. She remembered her true self—the one who never
tolerated bullying, who always reached out to anyone sitting alone.

And she missed being her.

Her breath hitched, tears spilling down her face. But Morgan saw these weren’t the
manipulative tears she used before, her sharp gaze intact. These were real—tears of regret
and remorse. She cried with raw anguish, facing the weight of her actions.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Morgan sat silently, letting her feel the gravity of her emotions, knowing this was the
beginning of real change.

“I want to be myself again. How do I go back to the real me?”

“Start with the little things. Accept the love and kindness that are being offered to you.”

“I hurt Spencer so much! He was always kind to me, but I treated him so badly! I can’t take
back what I said.”

She wept loudly, the sincerity of her regret pouring out in every sob.

“You can.”

“How?”

“Apologize. Mean it. Accept forgiveness. It’s not about erasing what happened—it’s about
making it right.”

Ellie nodded through her tears.

Morgan wrapped a protective arm around her. “We’ll do this together, okay? One step at a
time.”

Reid was vacuuming Ellie’s room when she walked in.

“Hi, Ellie. I’m almost done with your room,” Reid said, his voice as kind as ever. He looked
up and smiled at her.

The regret hit her like a sudden, painful wave. Without warning, she threw herself at Reid
and started crying.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Reid wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back gently. “It’s okay. It’s alright. Don’t cry,
Ellie.”

She eventually stopped sobbing, her breaths still shaky. She looked up at him, eyes filled with
sincerity.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out again.

“Apology accepted,” Reid said softly, his gaze filled with warmth.

Ellie had changed. The dark, defiant side of her was completely gone, but so was the act of
the sweet, innocent girl she once pretended to be. She became someone new: a girl who
laughed loudly, danced without a care, and sang silly songs at full volume. She was a
chatterbox, full of energy, goofing around endlessly, bringing both joy and exhaustion to
Sarah, Morgan, and Reid.

Not long after, Garcia uncovered a crucial lead. She discovered that Ellie’s mother was alive
and searching for her. She hadn’t known her ex-husband had passed away and had written
Ellie letters every day—letters she never sent but had stored in a hope chest, a testament to
her enduring love.

Ellie’s mother arrived at the BAU office the next day. Reuniting Ellie with her mother was a
moment that brought tears to everyone’s eyes. The woman’s love was palpable, and for the
first time, Ellie saw the glimpse of the family she had always dreamed about.

Reid crouched to her level, smiling softly. “I’m proud of you, Ellie.”

She hugged Reid tightly. “I’ll never forget how kind you were to me.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around Ellie in a fierce, protective hug. “You’re going to be okay.
I’ll miss you, kiddo.”

Morgan told her reassuringly, “We are always here for you.”

Morgan, Reid, and Sarah watched as Ellie walked away, hand in hand with her mother.

“Well, now I need to pack up, too,” Sarah said, wiping her tears.
“Do you have to go so soon?” Reid asked.

“Spencer, you’re so sweet.” She kissed Reid on the cheek, linked her arm with his, and gently
pulled him away from Morgan.

“If Derek ever hurts you, call me. I’ll have a talk with him.”

“Okay.” Reid chuckled.

“Are you gonna be my real brother someday?” Sarah asked, her expression softening.

Reid blushed. “Maybe...”

“I hope so.” Sarah smiled.

 Phantasmagoria
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 6. It's aound Reid’s 29th
birthday and Halloween.

“I already have a birthday gift from you to me.”

Reid declared one evening abruptly while they were having dinner together at Sam’s.

Morgan looked up, his fork hovering midair, catching the mischievous twinkle in Reid’s eyes.

“And what would that be?” Morgan asked cautiously.

“You...” Reid paused, pulling something out of his messenger bag, “are taking me to
Phantasmagoria.”

He showed the tickets to Morgan with a big smile.

“‘Phantasmagoria of Wonder’? I don't like spooky shows.”

“That's why it's a birthday gift. You have to come with me.”

“Why are there three tickets?”

“When I bought them, Ellie was here. I thought she might want to join us.”

***

Reid and Emily were briskly heading toward the meeting room. Reid was enthusiastically
chatting about Halloween traditions, while Emily followed with a weary expression.

“The cool thing about Halloween is that it's a uniquely American holiday. I mean, despite its
obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints' Day, it really is
a melting pot of various immigrants' traditions and beliefs. It became a little more
commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of
popularity.”

As they entered the room, Emily cast a pleading look at Rossi. “All I did was ask what he
was doing this weekend.”

Oblivious to the room’s collective weariness, Reid forged ahead. “I was toying with the
notion of either going to the Edgar Allan Poe Shadow Puppet Theater or the reenactment of
the 19th century Phantasmagoria.”

“I don’t wanna know,” Rossi interjected, but Reid was undeterred.

“Oh, yeah, you do,” he shot back at Rossi.

“Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre-cinema projected ghost shows invented in France,
where the showman attempted to spook the audience using science magic.” Reid’s eyes
gleamed with excitement as he added, “And it just so happens that I have an extra ticket.”

“Isn’t… Derek going?” Emily asked.

“Oh, of course he is going.”

Everybody quickly shot a sympathetic glance at Morgan, who maintained a stoic expression.

“But I have one more ticket.”

“Tempting,” Garcia said, before quickly shifting the conversation to the case.

***

To Morgan’s surprise, Phantasmagoria of Wonder was nothing short of mesmerizing.

The show transported them to another era, painstakingly recreating the eerie ambiance of
19th-century ghost spectacles. Dim lanterns flickered in the darkened room, mist swirled
ominously, and ghostly images seemed to float in midair thanks to ingenious projections and
mirrors. Actors in Victorian costumes delivered chilling tales, their voices amplified by
perfectly timed sound effects. It was a hauntingly beautiful fusion of science and storytelling.

Despite his initial skepticism, Morgan found himself captivated—though Reid’s non-stop
commentary afterward tested his patience.

“Phantasmagoria is this brilliant blend of early cinematic techniques, theatrical drama, and
immersive horror,” Reid gushed. “The whole purpose was to entertain and frighten
simultaneously, giving the audience a sense of supernatural thrill.”

Reid’s enthusiasm showed no sign of slowing.

Morgan felt himself starting to tune out, the words a blur, until one phrase snapped him back
to attention.

“Honestly, if you had slept through the show like you did during Ninth Symphony, I
would’ve considered breaking up with you.”

“Hm?” Morgan blinked.

“So, did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I did,” Morgan said quickly.

“Did you feel the ‘wonder’?”

Morgan paused, searching for the right words. “Yeah, there was a kind of wonder. A real
one.”

Reid raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “What kind of wonder?”

Morgan spoke carefully, “It’s the wonder of realizing how different we are and yet how
deeply we love each other.”

“Huh?”

“I mean... I’d never go to something like this if it weren’t for you. Our interests, our
personalities—everything about us is just... different.”

Reid stood there with his arms crossed, listening intently.

“It’s a wonder that being together, despite everything, makes us so happy. So fulfilled.”

Reid pursed his lips. “But that has nothing to do with the show. Are you saying the show
wasn’t interesting?”

“No, the show was fantastic!”

Morgan blurted out, eager to set things straight. He rattled off compliments, detailing what he
found impressive about the visuals, the storytelling, and the atmosphere.

Finally, Reid’s expression softened, and Morgan let out a relieved exhale.

***

For Morgan, Reid’s birthday wasn’t complete yet.

Morgan had spent the entire next day preparing. The table was set with his best dishes, the
glow of soft candlelight casting golden hues across the room. A bottle of red wine stood
waiting, and the aroma of dinner—a tender roast with a side of buttery mashed potatoes and
roasted vegetables—lingered in the air. He wanted everything to be perfect for Reid.

When Reid walked through the door, his eyes widened at the sight of the scene.

He looked at Morgan. “You didn’t have to go all out like this,” he said softly, though his eyes
sparkled with delight.

Morgan kissed Reid gently and whispered, “Happy Birthday.”

Reid’s cheeks flushed. “I love you,” he whispered, before pulling Morgan into a deeper kiss.
“I love you so much.”

Morgan’s heart swelled as he smiled. “I love you too.”

“Come on, give me your bag and coat.”

“Yeah…”

“Reid… are you crying?” Morgan asked softly.

Reid wiped his tears with the back of his hand and said, “You’re too good to me.”

Morgan pulled Reid into a warm hug. Reid rested his head on Morgan’s shoulder.

“Yesterday, you took me to the show, listened to me talk about it all the way home, and now
this?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry. It was you who took me to the show, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t actually
listening to half of what you said.”

Reid lifted his head with a pout, narrowing his eyes in mock indignation. Morgan couldn’t
help but laugh, pressing a quick, cheeky kiss to Reid’s face.

***

They savored the meal, laughing and exchanging meaningful glances. When dinner was over,
Morgan presented a small, neatly wrapped box. Inside was a sleek set of massage oils.

“Massage oils? Are you… giving me a massage with these?” Reid whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” Morgan hummed.

Reid’s face turned crimson as he pressed his lips together.

Morgan, noticing Reid’s reaction, felt a flush of heat rise to his own cheeks. “Only if you’re
up for it,” he added, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Reid hesitated for a moment, then nodded quickly. “I… yeah, okay,” he stammered, his blush
deepening as he avoided Morgan’s gaze.

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at how, even after a year and a half together, moments like
this still left them flustered.

Reid reached out to run his fingers over the glass bottles, his gaze flicking over the labels as
he read them aloud. “Frankincense and rose… eucalyptus and mint… sandalwood and
cedar…” He glanced up at Morgan, a shy but genuine smile lighting up his face. “This is…
really nice.”

Morgan grinned, “Sarah told me about this brand. It was founded by a German scientist who
is also a medical doctor. Big name in stem cell research, apparently.”

***

After a shower, they moved to the bedroom.

“So… what do I do?” Reid asked, standing uncertainly by the bed.

“Strip.”

Reid shot Morgan a sharp look. “What?”

“Everything,” Morgan replied with a cheeky grin, then leaned in to kiss Reid’s cheek. “You
can leave the underwear if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” Reid muttered, as he began undoing his pajama buttons. “I feel
awkward being the only one taking off clothes.”

Morgan leaned back against the headboard, watching with amused eyes. “I mean, yeah. But
you know, if we both strip, this massage would turn into something else…”

Reid chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. “Fair point.”

After some deliberation, Reid picked the sandalwood and cedar oil. As Morgan opened the
bottle, its warm, earthy aroma mingled with the faint, cozy remnants of dinner. Reid inhaled
deeply, his smile softening. If happiness had a scent, it might just be this, he thought.

Reid lay on his stomach.

As soon as Morgan’s hands brushed Reid’s back, he jolted, a giggle bubbling out before he
could stop it.

“Reid,” Morgan said, mock-stern.

“Sorry.”

Reid clutched the pillow beneath him, trying to suppress another giggle, but failed miserably.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching.

“Why are you so sensitive tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Reid mumbled into the pillow, his voice muffled but full of laughter. “It
tickles!”

Giggles turned into full-blown laughter, and Reid rolled onto his back, his face flushed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t!”

By then, Morgan was laughing too.

“You’re not even sexy-sensitive—just purely ticklish-sensitive?”

“Apparently,” Reid admitted, still giggling.

Morgan smirked and held up his oil-covered hands like he was about to attack. Reid
squealed, batting his hands away.
“Morgan, stop! Stop!”

“Okay, okay,” Morgan relented, still chuckling. “Let’s try again.”

Reid took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and turned back onto his stomach. But
the second Morgan’s hands hovered near him, he started laughing again.

Morgan shook his head, amused. “You’re impossible tonight.”

Instead of touching him, Morgan took off his shirt and leaned down, letting the weight of his
body settle gently over Reid’s back. The solid warmth of him was immediate and grounding,
melting the tension in Reid’s muscles almost instantly.

“Hmm…” Reid exhaled deeply, his shoulders slackening.

“There we go,” Morgan murmured, smiling against Reid’s neck.

Once Reid relaxed, Morgan began again, his hands gliding over the smooth lines of Reid’s
back. With slow, deliberate strokes, he kneaded the tight muscles between Reid’s shoulders,
coaxing the knots to release.

Reid let out a soft, contented sigh, his breath evening out as Morgan worked his way down
his spine.

The sensation was perfect—soothing pressure combined with the gentle heat of Morgan’s
touch. As Morgan moved to his thighs, Reid’s body grew heavier against the bed,
surrendering completely.

By the time Morgan reached his calves and feet, Reid was barely awake, the tension in his
body replaced by utter calm.

When Morgan finished, Reid’s breaths were slow and deep, his face serene in sleep.

Morgan smiled to himself, wiping his hands before pulling the blanket over him.

He settled beside Reid, watching him for a moment.

At twenty-nine, Reid had grown so much since they first met six years ago. His features had
matured—his face sharper, his frame stronger. And though he still had his quirks, the shy,
socially awkward young man Morgan had known back then had become someone more
confident, more at ease.

“Reid,” Morgan whispered softly, brushing a lock of hair away from Reid’s face.

The steady rhythm of Reid’s breathing was lulling him to sleep too.

“I love you,” Morgan murmured, his fingers tracing lightly over Reid’s hair and cheek.

“I love you,” he repeated, before finally drifting off beside him.

 Satisfied
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 8-10.

It's November/December 2010. Reid is 29, Morgan is 37.

The crisp winter air settled over the city as holiday decorations began appearing in shop
windows. At home, Morgan started lighting the fireplace in the evenings, especially when
Reid was over. The two of them, along with Cloony, often cozied up by the fire, reading,
playing cards, or chatting about nothing in particular.

“Garcia thinks Seaver is your type,” Morgan teased, shuffling the deck.

Reid looked up from his cards, puzzled. “What?”

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

“I think she is,” Reid admitted matter-of-factly.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

Reid smirked. “What? Do you want me to tell you that you’re the prettiest?”

Morgan laughed. “Nah, it’s alright.”

As winter deepened, Reid grew to love Morgan’s oil massages. Morgan had gotten good at
them and was committed to indulging Reid whenever he wanted.

Today, Morgan suggested something new. “How about a front-body massage?”

Reid blinked, his eyes darting nervously. He blushed as his imagination ran wild. “Front
body?”

Morgan chuckled. “Are you imagining something naughty?”

“...Yeah.”

Morgan grinned. “I’m not going to touch you weirdly. It’s just from the pamphlet.” He held it
up, reading aloud: “‘Front Body Massage: Focus on the neck, collarbone, and shoulders.’”
Reid hesitated before lying on his back.

The moment Morgan looked at Reid, he couldn’t hold back his laughter. Reid was lying
unnaturally straight, his hands folded neatly on his stomach, his face a mix of nervousness
and skepticism.

“What?” Reid asked, his brow furrowing. “What’s so funny?”

“Reid, you look like you’re preparing for surgery,” Morgan said between chuckles.

“I’m just lying down like you told me.”

“Can’t you pose a little more... I don’t know, sexily?”

Reid shot him a look. “You said this wasn’t the sexy kind of massage.”

“It’s not, but—” Morgan snorted, unable to stop himself.

Reid huffed and shifted, moving his hands up to his chest in an attempt to look more relaxed.

“Now you look like a Disney princess in a coma,” Morgan teased, barely stifling another
laugh.

“Good for you,” Reid deadpanned. “You can kiss me then.”

Morgan didn’t need a second invitation. Grinning, he straddled Reid, leaning in close.

“You are so cute.”

Morgan said softly, his voice full of affection.

He puckered his lips, leaning in to plant a quick, gentle kiss on Reid’s lips.

“You’re so cute.”

He repeated with a playful grin, leaning in again to deliver two more light pecks, each one
deliberate and sweet, like he couldn’t help himself.

“So so cute.”

Morgan kissed him again and again, peppering his face with kisses and even licking his
cheek. Despite his earlier annoyance, Reid couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Morgan, you have zero prince qualities.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Morgan laughed, wrapping his arms around Reid’s neck until their faces
were nearly touching.

“Spencer, are you mine?”

“Mm-hmm.”
“All of you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Satisfied, Morgan kissed him deeply, his lips trailing to Reid’s neck and collarbone. His
hands explored Reid’s torso gently. When his lips reached Reid’s chest, he hesitated, teasing
the sensitive area he’d discovered recently.

Reid’s body jolted with a loud moan as Morgan’s lips brushed the crest of his chest. Smiling
mischievously, Morgan licked the spot while his hand gently teased the other side.

Reid writhed beneath him, “Mm...mm,” he moaned, his voice needy.

Morgan gently brushed a hand over Reid’s damp forehead, his voice low and filled with
affection. “Reid, I love you.”

Leaning in, he pressed a deep, passionate kiss to Reid’s lips. Reid’s hand grabbed the back of
Morgan’s head as they kissed with urgency. Their breaths mingled, soft groans escaping.

Reid's hands slid downward until they settled on Morgan's hips and pressed them onto his
lower body. Frustrated by the layers of clothing between them, Reid demanded breathlessly,

“Strip, Morgan. Hurry.”

Morgan quickly shed his clothes before helping Reid remove his underwear. As their bodies
pressed together, Reid wasted no time, flipping their positions so he was on top.

Morgan watched, mesmerized, as Reid moved with abandon, his expression tightened with
pleasure, his brow furrowing slightly, and his breaths ragged. The sounds Reid made, soft and
raw, sent shivers down Morgan’s spine.

When Reid finally collapsed onto Morgan’s chest, both men lay still, catching their breaths.

“Morgan, did you finish?” Reid asked after a moment.

“Not yet. Can you...make me come with your hand?”

Reid nodded, and Morgan guided his hand, the sensation overwhelming him. It wasn’t their
first time, but the sight of Reid’s pale, delicate hand moving over him was enough to send
him over the edge.

After cleaning up, Morgan finally gave Reid the promised massage.

The front-body massage allowed them to face each other, making the experience deeply
fulfilling for both. Morgan’s touch was soothing and comforting, causing Reid’s eyelids to
grow heavy. Occasionally, his eyes fluttered open, only to meet Morgan’s loving gaze. Each
time, they exchanged a tender smile.
By the time Morgan slid under the blanket beside Reid, it was close to midnight. The room
was filled with a soothing warmth and the delicate scents of frankincense and rose, wrapping
them in a cocoon of peace.

***

Two weeks had passed since Ashley Seaver joined the team.

As she settled in, Seaver began to find the dynamics among the younger team members both
strange and confusing.

First, there were Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan. Seaver initially thought they were a
couple. Their mutual respect and closeness were admirable. She discovered that they often
hung out at a bar together and speculated that maybe they weren’t dating but instead had
some sort of consensual, no-strings-attached arrangement. But as she got to know Emily
better, she became convinced that Emily wouldn’t engage in such half-committed
relationships.

Then there was Derek and Penelope Garcia. Their interactions were another puzzle. They
spoke to each other in a playful, flirtatious way, casually telling each other “I love you.”
However, Seaver quickly realized that their bond was rooted in a deep friendship and mutual
trust, rather than romantic affection.

Garcia’s friendship with Spencer Reid was also notable. Reid seemed to spend a lot of time in
the tech room just to chat with Garcia, as if the tech room was his hiding place from the
world.

But the most mysterious relationship was between Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid. At first,
it appeared to be a close brotherly bond. Seaver recalled a moment when Morgan had stopped
Reid’s endless rambling.

She remembered the scene vividly. The car door opened, and Seaver heard Reid excitedly
talking.

“Well, the fact of the matter is, ‘beam me up, Scotty,’ was never actually said. The closest
they ever got was, ‘Scotty, beam us up’ in The Gamesters of Triskelion and The Savage
Curtain episodes. But interestingly…”

“Reid, Reid, come on. Give it a rest.” Morgan interrupted him. Later she saw Morgan gently
shoving Reid’s head.

Then there was the introduction scene Seaver remembered.

“Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she's in remedial training with an
injury.” Hotch was explaining when Spencer Reid approached.
“I was remediated in the academy too,” Reid smirked.

“Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid,” Hotch introduced them.

Curious, Seaver asked Reid, “Um, what was your issue?”

“What was my issue? Oh, well...marksmanship, physical training, obstacle courses, Hogan’s
Alley—pretty much everything that wasn’t book-related. They ultimately had to make
exceptions to allow me into the field.”

Everyone around them looked at Reid with fondness, but Morgan's gaze carried a deeper
affection.

Still, Seaver assumed it was just Morgan loving Reid like a younger brother. That was until
she overheard their conversation one day.

She looked around the office. There was no urgent case, and everyone was focused on
paperwork and computer work.

Even Morgan didn’t carry the same commanding aura he had in the field. He sat at his desk
typing with a sigh, but Seaver noticed the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward Reid.
Reid, as usual, was engrossed in his documents, reading with astonishing speed.

Morgan sighed again as his gaze lingered on Reid’s outfit—the Converse sneakers, the
orange and green socks, the light blue shirt, the thin maroon tie, and the navy cardigan—all
of it somehow endearing in Morgan’s eyes.

Morgan stood up and perched himself on the edge of Reid’s desk. Seaver raised an eyebrow,
straining to hear their conversation.

“Can I come over to your place after work?”

“Why?”

“I want to take off that clothes.” Morgan smirked, his expression a mix of teasing and sincere
desire.

Seaver’s eyes widened. She thought she must have misheard something.

Reid’s eyes went wide too. He quickly glanced around, embarrassment flicking across his
face before he scowled back at Morgan.

“Go back to work, Morgan.”

“Is it yes or no?”

Reid’s face flushed. He murmured softly, “You can come over.”

“Great. I’ll bring dinner.”

Morgan beamed a smile, then kissed Reid lightly on the lips before returning to his desk.

Seaver’s heart pounded. So they were a couple. And by the way Morgan kissed Reid, it was
clear that it wasn’t a secret at all.

***

Morgan appeared at the door carrying a variety of tacos and burritos from a nearby Mexican
restaurant. Reid served hot green tea. Reid wasn’t particularly talkative that evening, and they
shared a quiet Wednesday dinner together.

“Morgan, are you... satisfied with our sex life?”

“What?”

Morgan looked up in surprise, locking eyes with Reid. As soon as their gazes met, Reid’s
face turned red. Morgan, seeing Reid's reaction, flushed as well.

“I’m more than satisfied. How about you, Reid?”

“I... of course... You always make me feel...feel good.” Reid stammered and bit his lip in
embarrassment by his own statement.

Morgan gazed at him with affection as Reid continued,

“It’s just... you’d had a lot of experience, so sometimes I wonder if you’re really satisfied
with me,” Reid admitted quietly.

“We basically always do it the same way, and I barely do anything.”

Morgan let out a laugh, catching Reid's attention.

“Okay, Reid...It’s a little embarrassing to say this outright,” Morgan began, smiling warmly,
“but you seem unsure, so let me make it clear.”

His smile faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful, earnest expression.

“Sex with you is the most satisfying and exciting I’ve ever had. For the first time, I realized
how amazing it feels to have that kind of connection, with so much emotion involved.”

Reid’s chest tightened at Morgan’s honest words, emotion welling up inside him.

“So you don’t have to worry about that,” Morgan added, reaching out to gently cup Reid’s
cheek.

There was a brief silence, but Reid wasn’t finished. He knew it had taken courage to bring
this up and might not get the chance to say it again.

“But... don’t you... don’t you want to try different things with me?”

Morgan looked at Reid, a little surprised that he’d continued this conversation.
“I do.”

“What?!” Reid’s voice was almost a scream, startling Morgan.

“Reid, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“You... you just said you’re more than satisfied, but then you want to try something different
too?”

“Why not? Don’t you?”

“I... I...” Reid faltered. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, so.”

“I’m not thinking anything specific,” Morgan replied calmly.

Reid fell silent, his gaze dropping to the table.

“Reid?” Morgan asked gently.

No response.

“Reid. Are you angry?”

Morgan sighed, exasperated. “You’re the one who started this conversation, and even though
I’ve clearly told you that I’m more than satisfied, you’re still upset. Why?”

Reid struggled to process what Morgan had said, grappling with his own thoughts and
emotions. He wished feelings could be as logical as numbers—something he could break
down and solve.

Morgan sighed again.

“Reid... maybe you’re the one who isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Reid looked up, startled. “No! I am satisfied. And I don’t want to change anything. I want to
keep doing the same thing until we’re old and sexually inactive!”

Morgan blinked before bursting out laughing.

Reid watched him, bewildered.

“Sorry,” Morgan said between chuckles. “You usually avoid talking about marriage and the
future, but you can imagine us in bed until we’re like in our seventies?”

Morgan laughed again, then noticed Reid’s sulky expression.

“If you don’t want to change anything, that’s totally fine with me, kid.”

He stood from his chair, walked around the table to Reid’s side, and pulled him up, placing a
soft kiss on his lips.
“You taste like tacos,” Morgan murmured.

“You too.”

Morgan pulled Reid into an embrace.

“All I want is to be with you,” he said softly.

Reid wrapped his arms around Morgan’s waist. “Me too.”

“Are you done eating?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan’s hands moved to Reid’s cardigan buttons, undoing them slowly.

“I want to take a shower first,” Reid said.

“I know... I just want to take off your clothes. I’ve been fantasizing about this all day.”

Reid chuckled. “Did you manage to get any work done?”

“Mm-hmm. I can multitask,” Morgan smirked, untying Reid’s tie.

As he undid the first few buttons of Reid’s blue shirt, he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to
Reid’s neck.

“Morgan... you said you just wanted to take off my clothes,” Reid pointed out.

“You taste good before the shower,” Morgan murmured, kissing and licking Reid’s neck
fervently.

Reid swallowed hard, his breathing quickening.

Finally, Morgan pulled away, resuming his task of undressing Reid. When he slid off the
undershirt, he paused again, kissing Reid’s chest.

When Morgan’s hands reached Reid’s belt, Reid instinctively closed his eyes, embarrassed by
how obvious his arousal was.

Morgan noticed and flushed himself but composed quickly. He grabbed a blanket from the
sofa, wrapped Reid in it, and said softly,

“Okay, go take your shower.”

“Morgan, I’m cold,” Reid complained. “I usually wait until the water’s warm before taking
my clothes off so the shower room heats up a little.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Morgan hurried to the bathroom, turning on the water. Reid
followed, still wrapped in the blanket.
“It’s warm now,” Morgan said, stepping back.
Reid handed him the blanket and slid into the shower.

“I’ll warm up the bed,” Morgan said with a grin.

 O Holy Night
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 6, Episode 11. It's December 2010. Reid is
29, Morgan is 37.

【Dear Readers,
Merry Christmas! Thank you so much for reading this story. I truly love and appreciate
you from the bottom of my heart!】

The next day was a workday, so Morgan and Emily left the bar before it got too late.

“Cold!”

Shivering, Emily slipped her arm through Morgan’s.

Morgan enjoyed the city on winter nights. The streets, illuminated by Christmas lights,
seemed to glow with warmth, though the air was biting, the temperature hovering near
freezing.

They ducked into a nearby coffee shop to escape the chill. Inside, a tastefully decorated
Christmas tree stood by the counter, while "O Holy Night" played softly in the background.

♪ O holy night

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth

Morgan’s gaze wandered to a display of holiday-themed coffee bean packages. He picked one
up, inspecting the festive design.

“This year’s holiday blend,” a friendly barista explained. “A dark roast with notes of
chocolate and nuts—a rich, bold flavor. Perfect for cozy nights.”

“Thanks.” Morgan smiled. Reid would probably enjoy this. He decided to buy a bag.
♪ Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth

Once back outside, the two walked briskly toward a row of waiting taxis.

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining,” Morgan murmured.

“What?”

“The lyrics.”

“O Holy Night?”

“Yeah. ‘The world in sin and error.’ That’s what we see every day, isn’t it?”

Emily shrugged. “Yep. That’s our job.”

“‘Till He appeared’… Did He, though? If Jesus came to redeem the world, why hasn’t it
changed?” Morgan’s voice was quiet, his breath visible in the icy air.

Emily glanced at him, considering her response. “You know, there’s a line in the same
song…” She paused, sorting through the lyrics. “Okay, I’ll just sing it.” Her voice was soft.

“♪ In all our trials, born to be our friend

He knows our need—to our weakness is no stranger.”

Carefully, she added, “Jesus didn’t come to erase the world’s problems or make bad people
disappear. He came to show He understands our pain, our weakness. To be with us in it.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not—not really. Matthew told me that.”

“Matthew Benton?”

Emily nodded. “Back when we were teenagers. He questioned the church, but he never gave
up his faith.”

Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Before long, they reached the taxi stand. A cab pulled up, and Morgan stepped forward,
pulling the door open for Emily as she climbed inside.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, offering her a gentle wave.

“See you tomorrow.”

***

The next morning, Morgan was summoned to Rossi’s office. Inside, he found Rossi and
Strauss waiting for him, their expressions serious.

“Agent Morgan,” Strauss began, “we need you to conduct a risk assessment for Donald
Sanderson’s parole. He’s a convicted murderer.”

Morgan accepted the case and made his way to the Virginia Federal Correction Facility in
Petersburg later that day.

Speaking with Sanderson left Morgan conflicted. The man didn’t come across as a cold-
blooded killer. In their conversation, Sanderson confided that he was innocent. His voice held
a sincerity that Morgan couldn’t ignore.

Back at the office, Rossi explained, “Morgan, the question isn’t whether or not Sanderson
committed the crime. That’s not our call. The concern is whether he’s still a threat to society.”

Morgan nodded, but the weight of the decision stayed with him.

The following day, Reid approached Morgan at the coffee machine, his face tight with worry.

“Morgan, how late were you here last night?”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know… one? Maybe later.”

“I saw your office,” Reid said, his voice edged with reproach. “You worked on Donald
Sanderson’s case from 1985 all by yourself? Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve gone over
it together.”

Morgan’s expression softened. “Thank you, Reid. But it wasn’t a lot of material to go
through. The hard part was making the decision.”

Reid studied him carefully. “What did you decide?”

Morgan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “When I asked Sanderson what he’d do if he was
released, he said he’d look for his son to tell him the truth—that he was innocent.”

“Do you believe him?”

Morgan held Reid’s gaze and gave a firm nod. “I do. I know it’s not what Strauss wants, but I
believe Sanderson is ready to be released.”

Reid’s nodded back, his eyes conveying complete trust.

Morgan exhaled and checked his watch. “Well, I have the parole hearing to attend.”

“Good luck.”

Morgan gave Reid a small smile and left the office, heading back to Petersburg.
At the parole board hearing, Morgan spoke with conviction. “Therefore, it is my belief that
Don Sanderson is not a danger to society.”

The following day, Donald Sanderson walked free.

***

Two days later, Strauss appeared at the office, her expression tight with tension.

“Agent Morgan, Metro PD sent this over. They want you to take a look.”

Morgan opened the file and stared at the photograph inside, his brow furrowing. “Who’s
this?”

“Tom Wittman,” Strauss said coldly. “The man Don Sanderson just murdered.”

Morgan froze, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. Across the room, Rossi caught his
eye, and they exchanged a stunned look.

Without another word, the team mobilized, heading straight to the crime scene.

At the scene, Seaver approached Reid cautiously, watching as Morgan stood near the police
tape, silent and withdrawn.

“Is Morgan okay?” Seaver asked.

Reid glanced at Morgan, then sighed. “He just vouched for a man who turned around and
killed someone.”

“Do you think he made the wrong decision?”

Reid’s eyes snapped to Seaver. “No. Morgan made the best decision he could with the
information he had. It’s easy to judge in hindsight, but he had no way of knowing this would
happen.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

But Reid had already turned and walked away.

***

Sanderson wasn’t talking, and the team struggled to find any connection between him and
Wittman.

Strauss stood by the one-way mirror, watching Sanderson in the interrogation room.

“He looks genuinely distraught. He’s very convincing,” she remarked, glancing at Morgan. “I
can see why you fell for it.”

Morgan shook his head, exhaling slowly.

“I don’t need to remind you that your reputation’s on the line here.”

“That’s not what matters to me right now,” Morgan replied, his tone steady but strained.

“It should.”

Without responding, Morgan pushed the door open and entered the interrogation room,
slamming the file onto the table in front of Sanderson.

The team gathered behind the glass, watching in tense silence. They were curious—what
would Sanderson say to the man who had helped him regain his freedom?

“You played me,” Morgan began bitterly, his voice tight with anger.

Sanderson’s shoulders slumped. “I know how this looks.”

“Oh, do you?” Morgan snapped, leaning closer. “Then please, enlighten me. How does this
look?”

“I didn’t do it,” Sanderson murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you did! And now that’s on me. I bought into your holier-than-thou garbage!”
Morgan’s voice rose, cutting through the room.

“I put a psychotic killer back out on the street, and in less than 51 hours, you went right back
to your old ways!”

“I didn’t want to,” Sanderson muttered, his head hanging.

“Then why did you?” Morgan demanded, his tone laced with frustration. “Why did you go to
his house? Why would you risk your freedom to go after this man?”

But Sanderson remained tight-lipped, his answers offering no clarity. Morgan clenched his
fists, storming out of the room in frustration.

In the hallway, worried faces greeted him, but Morgan walked past them, his jaw tight. He
needed space. Yet Reid’s voice echoed in his mind:

“You do this sometimes—you shut everyone out. It’s like you put up this wall that says,
‘Don’t come near me.’ Even to me.”

Morgan paused mid-step, then turned around.

“Reid,” he called, his voice calm but deliberate. “Can you come with me?”

Reid blinked in surprise but stepped forward. Morgan reached for his hand, and together they
walked away from the others.

Behind them, Garcia broke the tension with a playful gasp. “What is this? The Bachelor? Is
Reid getting a rose?”
“Go interrupt them,” Emily teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Seaver laughed, shaking her head. Moments like this—lightheartedness in the middle of a
storm—were, she realized, one of the team’s greatest strengths.

“Come on, girl,” Garcia said, linking arms with Seaver. “Let’s go prevent Reid from getting
the rose.”

The two tiptoed toward Morgan’s office, but when they peeked inside, they froze.

Morgan and Reid stood there, embracing quietly, the door left open as if inviting
understanding rather than secrecy.

“I think he’s already got the rose,” Seaver whispered.

“Bummer,” Garcia murmured.

***

The quiet moments with Reid helped Morgan calm his nerves and clear his mind. When he
spoke with Sanderson again, the man finally opened up.

He revealed that he’d discovered Wittman’s involvement in the original crime. When
Sanderson confronted him, Wittman attacked, and Sanderson acted in self-defense.

Further investigation tied another accomplice, James Stanworth, to the crime. A tape surfaced
implicating Stanworth, who was arrested.

Once the case was wrapped up, Morgan visited Sanderson. He explained what had happened
with the investigation and outlined the next legal steps.

Sanderson listened, a look of relief slowly replacing the tension in his features. He extended
his hand, and Morgan shook it firmly, a silent understanding passing between them.

***

Morgan noticed Reid still sitting at his desk after most of the office had cleared out.

“Hey. You’re still here?”

“I was hoping to go home with you.”

“Really? It’s still Thursday.”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll get ready.”

Morgan didn’t even try to hide his excitement. Reid smiled to himself.
“Let’s eat somewhere.”

“Sure.”

They decided to stop by the streets of Adams Morgan for a late dinner.

The streets were alive with holiday cheer. Strings of lights twinkled across storefronts,
casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone sidewalks.

A street performer played Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas on his saxophone, the
melody winding through the laughter and chatter of the crowd.

Though it was a weekday, the streets buzzed with people—locals enjoying a night out,
couples strolling hand-in-hand, and groups gathering for dinner or drinks.

“I want to eat at The Diner. They serve all-day brunch with milkshakes and pancakes,” Reid
said, his eyes lighting up. Morgan smiled at him.

When they emerged from the restaurant, a band was playing O Holy Night nearby. The
singer, a man with a thick beard, had a deep, warm voice that stopped Reid and Morgan in
their tracks.

“Did Jesus come to save the world?” Morgan asked, the same question he’d posed to Emily
earlier, curious about Reid’s take.

“Salvation is individual,” Reid replied thoughtfully. “Do you know what Immanuel means?”

“God with us?”

“Yeah. Jesus came to dwell among us.”

“That’s what Prentiss said, too. He came to understand our weakness and pain.”

“And to teach us to love each other,” Reid added, offering an endearing grin.

As the singer continued, his voice filled the night air:

♪ Truly he taught us to love one another

His law is love and his gospel is peace

Overwhelmed by the moment, Morgan pulled Reid into a tight embrace. Reid hugged him
back without hesitation.

“Reid...I just...”
Morgan struggled to find the right words.

“I’m just...really glad that we love each other.”

“Me too.”

“I love you so overwhelmingly.”

“I know.”

Reid looked up at Morgan’s face. Morgan’s expression was emotional, intense, yet warm.

“I know, Morgan. And I love you too,” Reid said softly.

Morgan embraced him again, closing his eyes as the music continued to play.

♪ Fall on your knees

O hear the angel voices

O night divine, O night when Christ was born

O night, O holy night, O night divine

***

At Morgan’s house, Reid found a bare tree with a box of ornaments sitting beside it.

“Sarah sent me more ornaments this year,” Morgan said with a grin. “She wants me to send
her a picture of us with the tree to prove I actually decorated it.”

“Us?” Reid blushed, clearly caught off guard.

“Yeah,” Morgan nodded. “Can you help me with the decoration?”

“Sure.” Reid smiled, then fumbled through his bag.

“Speaking of decorations, look what Garcia gave me today.”

Reid pulled out a hand-made mistletoe headband, and Morgan squinted, trying to figure out
what it was.

Reid placed the headband on Morgan’s head. The mistletoe hung from a wire extending from
the band.

Reid chuckled. “You look silly.” Then, cupping Morgan’s face, he kissed him.

“As long as I’m wearing this, you’re going to keep kissing me?” Morgan asked, amused.
“Maybe...” Reid replied with a mischievous grin.

Morgan took the headband off and placed it on Reid’s head. “You look silly too.” He cupped
Reid’s face in return and kissed him.

By then, Morgan had completely forgotten how tired he was.

“I bought some holiday blend coffee for you. Want to try it?”

“Yeah. Sounds perfect,” Reid answered, smiling warmly.

 Headaches (1)
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 6, Episode 12. It's January 2011. Reid is 29,
Morgan is 37.

The hospital hallway was quiet, the kind of silence that amplified every distant beep or
muffled conversation. Reid sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair, his leg bouncing
impatiently. Even with sunglasses shielding his eyes, the fluorescent lights felt relentless,
stabbing through his migraine like shards of glass.

A nurse approached, clipboard in hand, her voice gentle but clinical.

“We're almost ready for you, Dr. Reid. Just a few questions first.”

He nodded, barely looking up.

“Are you having one of your headaches right now?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said, his voice tight.

“How long have you had it?”

“Uh, maybe two days.”

“And the lights hurt your eyes?”

He gave a quick nod.

“Any hallucinations?”

“No.”

The headaches had started around the beginning of the year 2011. Reid didn’t usually suffer
from headaches, which made their sudden appearance unnerving. He couldn’t help but
associate them with memories of his struggle with addiction.

He hadn’t told Morgan. He couldn’t. Morgan, with his natural empathy and protectiveness,
would have taken on the worry as if it were his own. And that was the last thing Reid wanted
—especially now, when he barely understood what was happening himself.

Instead, he began making quiet trips to the hospital, slipping in and out unnoticed, or so he
hoped.
This wasn’t his first CT scan. He wasn’t claustrophobic, and he thought he’d grown used to
the machine’s hum and the sterile smell of the room. But as he lay on the narrow table, fear
tightened around his chest, heavy and unrelenting. His fingers clutched the hem of the thin
hospital gown as he forced his eyes shut.

***

Everyone was already seated in the meeting room when Reid walked in. Morgan raised an
eyebrow at him.

“Hey, you okay?” Emily asked as Reid took a seat.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re never late,” Morgan replied, answering before Emily could, his eyes scanning Reid’s
face.

“Have we started the briefing yet?” Reid asked, deliberately avoiding Morgan’s gaze.

“Just about to,” Garcia answered.

“Then I’m not late,” Reid said flatly.

Garcia began the briefing, clicking through slides of three victims found in Miami. Each
photo showed bodies posed with cowrie shells covering their eyes and mouths, and one
victim was discovered alongside a decapitated cat.

“Shells in the eyes and mouth? You don't see that every day,” Emily said, exhaling sharply.

“Cowrie shells and ritual offerings are common in several Afro-Caribbean religions,” Reid
noted, his gaze fixed on the photos.

The team continued discussing the case as they boarded the jet to Miami. Reid sat in a corner,
where the shadows seemed to gather, his usual energy noticeably subdued. Hotch, seated
across from him, observed the younger agent with a quiet intensity, noting that something
seemed off.

“The last victim used to frequent a local community center,” Morgan pointed out, flipping
through the case file. “It might be a good place to get some background.”

“Good. Take Reid with you,” Hotch said, his tone steady as his eyes flicked to Reid.

***

Morgan and Reid walked through the vibrant Latino neighborhood of Allapattah in Miami.

“Hey, what's the matter with you?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not gonna give me a bunch of facts about the area and the demographics?”

Reid glanced at him, his tone distant. “The Allapattah neighborhood is named after the
Native American word for alligator.”

“There you go. There’s the kid I know.” Morgan’s voice softened, but the concern in his eyes
was apparent.

Suddenly, Reid winced, pressing his temple with a sharp breath.

“Reid, you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Reid said quickly, adjusting his sunglssses.

“Reid, come on, look at me.”

Morgan’s voice was insistent now as he gently cupped Reid’s face, removing his sunglasses.

“Ugh...”

Reid groaned, grimacing at the harsh light. It was enough to startle Morgan, and he
immediately handed the sunglasses back to him.

“What is it, Reid?”

“I have a bad headache. The light... hurts my eyes.”

“Since when?” Morgan asked, his concern growing.

“A couple of days ago.”

Morgan exhaled, his eyes never leaving Reid.

“I'll take you to a doctor after this case,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Reid snickered, though it lacked its usual humor. “I'm not a child. You don't need to take me
to a doctor.”

“You tend to deal with your health your own way. You’re smart, but you're not a medical
doctor. I need to make sure you get the proper care.”

Reid sighed. “I'm already seeing a doctor, okay?”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“They scanned my brain. The results will come after a week.”

Morgan looked at him, his expression filled with a concern so deep it made Reid
uncomfortable. Without meeting his gaze, Reid looked away.

At the community center, Morgan and Reid discovered that the last victim had been receiving
ritual healing from a religious group. The leader’s name was Julio.

***

Morgan knocked on Reid’s hotel room door.

Reid opened it, the dim light from the side lamp barely illuminating the room.

“Reid... were you sleeping?”

“No. I was reading.”

“In the dark?”

“By the lamp.”

Morgan sighed, his expression tinged with concern. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to read
with a headache.”

“That’s the only way I could distract myself.”

Reid sat down on the edge of the bed, his posture exhausted.

“From the headache?”

“Yeah, and...” Reid hesitated, his voice trailing off.

“And?”

“I have flashbacks from the photos... from today’s case.”

Morgan sat beside him, his gaze fixed on Reid, worry clouding his features.

“Morgan. Can you... can you stay with me?”

“Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

Reid’s hand brushed along Morgan’s neck, his fingers lingering at the back of it. Without
thinking, he kissed Morgan slowly. It was a soft, lingering kiss—just one, but their lips
hovered together, both caught in the yearning. In the darkness, the silence between them
seemed charged, their desires quietly building. Their lips met again, this time staying
together, neither of them wanting to pull away.
“Can you distract me?” Reid whispered.

“How?” Morgan’s voice was barely audible.

“...Touch me.” Reid’s voice was fragile.

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat, the vulnerability in Reid’s tone stirring something deep inside
him.

“Okay...”

Morgan moved slowly, gently guiding Reid back onto the bed. He cradled Reid’s face in his
hands, pressing soft kisses against his ear, then let his tongue graze the sensitive skin.

“Ahh...” Reid’s moan was quiet, a sound of surrender.

Morgan held back, resisting the urge to rush, and focused instead on making each touch as
tender and pleasurable as possible for Reid.

Slowly, Morgan began to undress Reid, each motion deliberate. As Reid’s skin was revealed,
Morgan kissed his neck, his hands roaming lightly over Reid’s torso, savoring the feel of him.

Usually, Reid would pull Morgan closer, urging him to press down, but tonight he remained
still, his body yielding, letting Morgan take the lead.

Reid’s moans were soft and steady, his breath hitching with each tender caress.

Morgan’s hands traveled lower, sliding into Reid’s underwear. He couldn’t help but flush as
he felt how aroused he was, but he focused on Reid, on making this moment as gentle and
loving as possible.

He carefully removed Reid’s pants and underwear, keeping his touch slow, deliberate.

As he moved his hand, his lips brushed over Reid’s chest, finding the hardened peaks, and he
gently sucked on them, drawing a louder moan from Reid.

Morgan stayed patient, ensuring that every second of this moment was pleasurable for Reid,
guiding him to the edge before he finally let go.

Soon after, Reid drifted into a peaceful sleep, his body relaxed, the tension from the day
melting away.

***

The next day, Morgan and Reid arrived at Professor Walker’s office to discuss the case.
Walker was a scholar specializing in Afro-Caribbean rituals, and Reid’s attention was
immediately drawn to the professor’s impressive collection of books.

“I’ve never seen a first-edition Tractatus before,” Reid remarked.

A few minutes later, Professor Walker entered, offering a friendly greeting.

Morgan showed the professor photographs of the victims and asked his opinions. Walker
examined the photos and said that these murders incorporated elements from various rituals.

According to Walker, most Afro-Caribbean rituals were rooted in healing. However, one of
them was from a much darker religion – unbaptized Palo Mayombe.

Professor Walker had spent years studying Palo and was about to release an extensive book
on the subject.

After thanking the professor, Morgan and Reid left his office and headed to the community
center in search of Julio.

At the center, they found a group engaged in a healing ritual. Julio, the leader, stood before
them, holding a knife. He slit a chicken’s throat, letting its blood drip onto the gathered
members. The atmosphere was charged with energy, chants reverberating through the room.

Morgan stepped forward, his tone firm but calm. “We are with the FBI. We're not here to
cause any trouble. But, sir, please put that knife down. ”

Julio turned sharply to face them. “This is a house of God. You have no right to be here.”

“We just would like to ask you some questions,” Morgan said calmly, “We'd appreciate it if
you came with us voluntarily. We’re not here to creare a spectacle.”

As Morgan spoke, Julio’s gaze fixed on Reid. A bewildered look crossed his face.

Reid blinked, unsure what was happening, when Julio suddenly said to Reid, “I will go with
you.”

***

Back at the BAU, Morgan, Reid, and Hotch observed Julio through the one-way mirror.

“Let’s see what he has to say,” Morgan muttered, starting to head for the door.

“Wait, Morgan. I think I should go in first,” Reid said.

“What?”

“Do you remember? At the community center, he said he’d come with me.”

“You want Morgan to come with you?“ Hotch asked.

“No, I’m all right. Thanks.”

Morgan stared worriedly through the mirror.

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

He introduced himself, his voice soft and his posture unassertive as he spread the photos of
the victims across the table.

Taking a seat across from Julio, he asked, “Did you know these people?”

Reid never aimed to appear commanding or authoritative. Instead, he carried a quiet

confidence that often earned respect within moments. Morgan, observing nearby, always
found it remarkable.

“They are my god’s children. They all came to me to be healed.”

“And you healed them?”

“You think I killed them? The saints don’t need a human sacrifice.”

Julio leaned forward, his voice lowering, more intense now.

“This light... is no good. It gives you a headache.”

Reid stared at him, a bit taken aback.

Without warning, Julio began chanting in an Afro-Caribbean dialect, tapping his fingers
rapidly on the table.

“Eggun buruku ni ki ori baje ni iche paraldo tete tete!”

The words grew faster and louder.

Morgan recognized it immediately--religious hysteria. He stepped into the room, concerned

about Reid’s headache, but Reid gestured for him to stay back, his eyes locked on Julio. He
was trying to decipher the words.

After leaving the interrogation room with Morgan, Reid approached Hotch.

“I think we just witnessed a classic case of transpossession,” he said. “It’s a form of religious
hysteria. Julio truly believes he was being occupied by a deity.”

The local detective was skeptical. “He wasn’t faking it?”

Reid shook his head. “Mm-mm.”

Morgan added, “Up close, you can see physiological signs. His body actually changed in
response to the belief.”

When they returned to the interrogation room, Julio had no recollection of what had
happened.
“That was my Saint who spoke to you. What did he say?” Julio asked.

“Eggun buruku ni ki ori baje ni,” Reid recited carefully.

“You have spirits of the dead on top of you that's spoiling your head.”

Julio leaned in, his gaze intense as he studied Reid’s bewildered expression.

“Your head is spinning because it’s full of ghosts.”

Reid held his stare, his thoughts churning. Behind him, he could feel Morgan’s concerned
eyes watching closely.
 Headaches (2)

As Morgan and Reid pressed Julio for details about the victims' deaths, a troubling realization
dawned: the unsub was Professor Walker. His earlier explanations about the rituals had been
intentionally misleading.

“He’s using the murders to generate publicity for his book,” Hotch concluded, the pieces
falling into place.

Morgan wasted no time and called Garcia. “Garcia, we need a full background check on
Professor Walker. Everything you can find.”

The team regrouped at the Community Center, suspecting that Julio was the professor’s next
target.

“There’s nothing unusual upstairs,” Morgan reported, descending the stairs. “Reid is going
through Julio’s room to see if we missed anything.”

Upstairs, Reid struggled with a splitting headache. Alone in the room, he pressed his fingers
to his temples, rubbing his eyes in frustration. With an irritated sigh, he yanked off his
bulletproof vest and covered his face, trying to block out the pain.

When he opened his eyes again, something caught his attention—a photograph of Julio as a
child, standing in front of an old house. Recognition struck. The house was right next to the
Community Center.

Acting on instinct, Reid slipped out of the building without alerting the others. He had to
check the house.

Minutes later, Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi returned to Julio’s room, only to find it dark and
empty.

“Reid?” Morgan called, his voice sharp with concern.

Silence.

“Reid!”

Morgan’s tone turned panicked as he began searching the nearby rooms, flinging doors open
in desperation.

Hotch spoke into his shoulder mic, his voice calm but firm. “Prentiss, is Reid with you out
front?”

“No,” came her reply. “No one’s come out since you went inside.”

“I’ll check downstairs,” Rossi said, hurrying toward the staircase.

***

The professor leveled a gun at Reid.

“Toss your gun over there,” he commanded.

Reid complied, sliding his weapon across the floor. Nearby, Julio lay tied up, watching
helplessly.

“You're a professor and you're very smart. You're a lot smarter than this,” Reid said, his voice
uneven and strained.

“Smarter?” Walker echoed, skeptical.

Reid knew he wasn’t a physical threat. His best chance was to keep Walker talking, even if
the pain pounding in his head made it almost impossible to focus.

“People like you and I don't need guns.” Reid said, stumbling slightly over the words. His
hand instinctively clutched his temple.

“Like you and I.” Walker repeated, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah. Men of intelligence.”

“Oh, so we’re the same?” Walker scoffed.

“I think that there are some similarities. I mean, uh, we both love books.”

As Reid tried to continue, a sharp wave of pain cut through his head. He winced and shut his
eyes briefly, struggling to stay coherent.

“I’m... I’m sorry, but I don’t believe this is really about the book,” Reid pressed on, his words
faltering. “And I don’t think... I don’t think you do, either.”

***

Morgan paced anxiously, his phone pressed to his ear. “He’s not answering,” he said, his
frustration mounting.

Rossi picked up the bulletproof vest left on the bed, holding it up.

“Reid’s vest?” Hotch asked, his voice sharp with concern.

Morgan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell was he thinking?!” he snapped, running a
hand over his head. Frustration and fear boiled over, and he slammed his fist against the wall.

The impact sent a photo frame tumbling to the floor. Morgan instinctively picked it up and
froze, staring at the image.

“Wait a second, Rossi,” he said, holding up the frame. “That’s the building right next to the
Community Center. Reid must have noticed it too.”
Before Rossi could reply, Morgan was already bolting down the stairs.

***

Walker tilted his head, puzzled by Reid’s erratic behavior. “Excuse me?”

“I--I think it's more about the abuse, the abandonment, and the lack of attention from your
father.”

“That’s enough,” Walker snapped, though his guard was slipping as he tried to make sense of
Reid’s strange demeanor.

Reid pushed further.

“You know what the ridiculous thing is, is that you...” Reid let out a weak laugh. “You set up
a paradigm where you actually have to get caught. Think about it. If you get away with this,
your father will never know what you’ve done.”

Walker stared at him, his grip on the gun loosening slightly.

But Reid couldn’t keep the momentum. His hand pressed harder against his temple as the
pain became unbearable.

“What is wrong with you?” Walker demanded.

Reid barely opened his eyes, his voice a faint plea. “I'm sorry, it's just very bright in here for
me.”

“Bright?”

“Please. Please dim the lights. I'll do anything.”

Walker hesitated, momentarily distracted by Reid’s plea. His focus wavered.

Reid seized the moment. He lunged for the crowbar lying nearby and swung it with all his
strength, knocking the professor to the ground.

“FBI!”

The door burst open as Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi stormed into the room, weapons drawn.

Snapping back to the moment, Reid forced himself to appear composed. “Morgan, we need
an ambulance.”

Morgan immediately called for paramedics to attend to Julio, apprehended Professor Walker,
and hauled him outside.

“Are you all right?” Hotch asked Reid.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. I, um... pretended to have a headache to distract him,” Reid replied, his
voice uneven.
“Pretended?”

“Yeah... pretended,” Reid said, turning away to avoid further questions.

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a concerned look.

Outside, Morgan approached Reid with a stern expression, holding Reid’s discarded vest.
Hotch and Rossi stepped aside, sensing the need for privacy.

“Reid. I need to talk to you,” Morgan said firmly.

Reid tried to sidestep him, but Morgan grabbed his arm.

“Reid! Why did you take off your vest?” Morgan’s voice was sharp.

“I was... I was having a headache.”

“That’s not a good enough reason! Reid, look at me!”

Morgan’s raised voice drew the attention of the team and the local detectives.

“Morgan, stop. You’re making a scene.”

“I don’t care,” Morgan shot back.

From a distance, Seaver glanced at Rossi. “Are they okay?”

“They will be. Leave them alone,” Rossi replied, nodding in reassurance.

“Don’t ever do this again.”

“Do what?” Reid asked, his voice quiet but defensive.

“Take off your vest and go off on your own! What were you thinking?!”

Reid flinched at the sharpness of Morgan’s reprimand, acutely aware of the eyes on them.
Embarrassment pressed down on him, but more than that, the weight of Morgan’s desperation
and fear sank into his chest, leaving it tight with heartache.

“Promise me you won’t do it again,” Morgan demanded.

“I promise...” Reid murmured, barely audible.

“Reid, I’m serious. If you’re going to act recklessly because of a headache, then you’re not fit
for fieldwork. If you keep jeopardizing your life like this, I’ll make sure you’re pulled from
the field. Do you understand?”

Reid nodded silently, swallowing the lump in his throat as he fought back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning and walking away, desperate to escape before his
emotions spilled over.
Morgan followed, catching up to him. “Reid.”

Morgan tried to pull him into a hug, but Reid pushed him away.

“Morgan. Not now.”

Morgan exhaled and looked at Reid. He appeared thinner, more frail, and extremely
vulnerable.

“Reid, I have to,” Morgan said softly, his tone full of quiet determination.

He removed his own vest and gently wrapped his arms around Reid, ignoring the initial
resistance.

The onlookers, sensing the weight of the moment, respectfully turned away, giving them
space.

Reid finally gave in, burying his face in Morgan’s shoulder as the tears came. He was
exhausted. Morgan held him tighter, anchoring him as Reid let it out.
 Psychosomatic
Chapter Notes

It's January 2011. Reid is 29, Morgan is 37.

Reid struggled with photophobia, or sensitivity to light, where bright stimuli overstimulated
the pathways in his brain, intensifying his pain.

Because of this, he and Morgan often spent time together in dimly lit spaces, whether at
Reid’s apartment or Morgan’s home, creating an environment of calm and comfort.

To ease the tension in Reid's neck and shoulders, Morgan regularly gave him massages. They
quickly learned to forgo scented oils, as strong smells seemed to worsen Reid's headaches.
Instead, Morgan used the warmth of his hands and his unwavering patience to bring Reid
relief.

Over time, intimacy became another form of therapy. As Reid explained one evening, sexual
activity—including orgasm—releases endorphins and oxytocin, natural painkillers that can
diminish the perception of pain.

Morgan took this to heart, approaching their intimate moments with a tender care that left no
room for rush or pressure.

“Just relax,” Morgan would murmur, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll take care of
everything.” His goal was always the same, to prolong Reid’s pleasure and satisfaction to
help ease his pain.

Morgan took his time, exploring Reid’s body with gentle kisses and deliberate touches. He
relished the soft moans and sighs that escaped Reid’s lips, every sound a reminder that his
partner trusted him completely.

His hands moved with care, eventually reaching Reid’s lower body.

When Reid climaxed, he often clung to Morgan’s neck, unreserved in his expressions of
pleasure. What had once felt awkward to him now came more naturally. In the sanctuary of
darkness, Reid grew less self-conscious, allowing himself to fully embrace the love and care
Morgan offered.

Sometimes, as Morgan lingered, pressing kisses to his chest, Reid would reach down and
touch himself. Morgan found the sight irresistible, his boyfriend’s flushed face and quiet
vulnerability so endearing that he couldn’t help but steal glances.
“Morgan, I’m sorry,” Reid said softly one evening, his tone apologetic as they sat eating
dinner in the dimly lit room.

Morgan looked up, his brow furrowing. “For what?”

Reid shifted in his seat, clearly uneasy. “I know I’m not... contributing much in bed. I just let
you make me feel good. I just... lie there.”

A warm smile spread across Morgan’s face, his voice gentle but firm. “Reid, are you
kidding? I get to touch your body, watch you, and be close to you. I’m the luckiest person in
the world.”

Reid’s cheeks flushed at the sincerity in Morgan’s words, a shy smile tugging at his lips. For
a moment, the room felt lighter.

***

“That doesn't make any sense. There's nothing wrong?” Reid asked the doctor, his frustration
evident.

“Your scans are perfectly normal, and there doesn't seem to be any physical explanation for
your headaches.”

“What do I do now?”

“Well,” the doctor began carefully, “have you considered a psychosomatic cause?”

“Psychosomatic?” Reid echoed, his voice tight.

“It just means a mental or emotional stress--”

“I know what psychosomatic means, doctor,” Reid interjected sharply, “but it’s not that.”

“It’s something we should consider.”

Reid’s voice rose, edged with defensiveness. “It’s not—I’m not crazy.”

“Crazy?” The doctor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Dr. Reid, I’m not saying—”

“I have headaches. I have intense sensitivity to light because there's something wrong with
me physically, not mentally.” Reid talked rapidly.

The doctor listened quietly as Reid continued.

“Listen, doctor, my mother's a paranoid schizophrenic who's been institutionalized, so I know

very well what mental illness looks like, maybe even better than you, and it's not that. It's
not.”
Without waiting for a response, Reid stood and left the office, slipping his sunglasses back
on.

***

When Morgan arrived at Reid’s apartment, he noticed the lights were on from outside.

His heart lifted for a moment, hoping it meant Reid’s headache had finally eased. But when
Reid opened the door, he was still wearing his sunglasses.

“If you’re going to wear the sunglasses anyway, why not dim the lights?” Morgan asked,
flicking off the main switch to soften the brightness.

Reid hesitated, his movements uneasy. Something was off tonight—his posture tense, his
expression shadowed by unease.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” Reid murmured, avoiding Morgan’s gaze.

Morgan frowned. “Since when? You’ve been fine with the darkness.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably. “I just... I remembered what Julio said to me.”

“What? What did he say?”

“There are ghosts in my head, and they’ll eat my soul.”

“Oh, come on, Reid. You don't believe that, do you? Are you afraid of ghosts?”

Reid shook his head, his voice low. “No. I’m afraid of my own mind. I’m afraid I might start
hallucinating.”

Morgan’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Hallucinating?”

“The doctor told me the headaches might be psychosomatic.”

“Reid...”

“Do you know schizophrenia is genetic?” Reid’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

Suddenly realizing what Reid was afraid of, Morgan’s eyes lingered on Reid’s pale face.
Imagining the fear running through the young genius’s mind, Morgan felt his heart break.

“Are headaches even a symptom of schizophrenia?” Morgan asked gently.

“No, not really,” Reid admitted, his voice faltering. “There’s no direct correlation. It’s just...
my mom often had headaches, and I can’t stop thinking—”

“Hey.” Morgan stepped closer and took Reid’s hand in his. “Come here.”

He pulled Reid into a warm embrace, holding him tightly. Reid’s shoulders shook against
him, his frame feeling smaller and more fragile than ever. The vulnerability made Morgan’s
throat tighten with emotion.

“I’m here,” Morgan murmured, stroking Reid’s back in slow, soothing circles. “I’ve got you.
You’re fine, okay?”

Reid nodded faintly, clinging to Morgan’s warmth as silent tears streaked down his face.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Morgan continued, his voice steady and comforting. “I’ll
always be with you.”

Reid buried his face in Morgan’s shoulder, crying quietly, his fear momentarily eased by the
embrace.

But in his heart, Reid knew one thing with painful certainty:

If the day ever came when he learned he had developed schizophrenia, he would let Morgan
go.
 Emily(1)
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 14-17.

Ian Doyle leaned back, his dark smile dripping with menace as he spoke, his voice low and
deliberate.

“The lovely Penelope is unwinding with Derek over some popcorn and a movie. Aaron?
Home, enjoying a quiet evening with his son. Dave and Ashley are having their game night.
And Dr. Reid is on the metro. That one does have some quirks.”

Emily’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch.

“Come near my team and I will end you.” She said, her voice sharp and unwavering.

Doyle chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. “Relax, Emily. They’re safe—for now. They’re
innocent. But you? You are not.”

“I was doing my job.”

His smirk widened, his eyes narrowing with something cruel. “Oh, I think you did a little
more than that.”

Emily’s pulse quickened, but she refused to let him see any cracks in her armor.

Eight years ago, she had gone undercover for Interpol, assuming the alias Lauren Reynolds to
infiltrate Doyle’s operation. Back then, he had been a key player in the IRA and deeply
entrenched in a world of terrorism and violence. Emily had worked her way into his inner
circle, earning his trust—and more. Doyle had been captivated by her, believing their
connection was real.

When Doyle was captured, he learned the truth. To him, it wasn’t just an undercover
operation—it was a deeply personal betrayal.

And now, having escaped, his vendetta against her burned stronger than ever.

***

Besides Reid’s headaches, something else had been nagging at Morgan lately: Emily.
She arrived at the office late that morning, her usual sharpness dulled.

“Someone have a late night?” Morgan quipped, masking his concern with a teasing tone.

Emily didn’t miss a beat, snapping back, “Someone want to mind their own business?”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in her voice. His worried gaze lingered on
her, but Emily avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the papers in her hand.

She sighed inwardly. Morgan was relentless when he was concerned. His piercing gaze
seemed to strip away defenses, and his face openly displayed his worry—no subtlety, no
pretense.

Emily stifled a small laugh, thinking of how Reid must feel being subjected to this look every
time something happened to him.

Later, during the investigation, Morgan confronted her while they were alone in the car.

“Prentiss, what’s going on with you?”

“With me?” she echoed, feigning confusion.

“I’ve been watching you the last couple of days. Something’s obviously bothering you.”

Emily exhaled heavily, glancing out the window. “Derek, because I like you, I’m going to ask
you not to do this. Please.”

“You know, Emily, you really need to trust people.”

Her head turned sharply toward him, her brow furrowed. “I trust people.”

“No, you don’t,” Morgan said without hesitation. His voice was calm but firm. “You don’t
because you can’t. And I get it. Every time you tried to count on someone, they let you down,
so you go it alone. You'll never admit that because you're just too damn stubborn.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, but before she could respond, Morgan pressed on.

“It's all right. It doesn't really matter. But I'll tell you what does matter. That you can trust me,
Emily. With anything. I'm serious. No matter how awful you think it is, I promise you, you
are not alone.”

His gaze remained steady, cutting straight through her defenses. For a brief moment, Emily
felt her guard falter.

She blinked hard, refusing to let any tears show.

“I just wish you’d believe that,” Morgan added softly.

“I do,” Emily said finally, her voice quiet. She met his gaze, then smirked. “But if you profile
me again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Morgan chuckled, the tension between them easing. “Fair enough,” he said, shaking his head
with a smile. Emily couldn’t help but grin, too.

***

When Reid discovered that Solaris was showing tonight at the Smithsonian Theaters in the
National Mall, he could barely contain his excitement. Without hesitation, he called Emily.

“Reid?” Emily’s voice was cautious, but Reid was too excited to pick up on it.

“Emily, you are not going to believe this!”

“No?” she replied, her tone wary.

“They’re showing Solaris tonight, the original, in the theaters. You want to go?”

“Did Morgan put you up to this?”

“What?”

“Did Morgan tell you to call me?”

“No,” Reid replied, frowning in confusion. “Morgan would have no idea what Solaris is.”

“So, uh, you just called me out of the blue.”

“Well, I mean, the original one’s in Russian. You and I are the only ones that can really enjoy
it.”

“Isn’t Solaris like four hours long?”

“Five,” Reid corrected, his excitement undimmed. “The best Sci-Fi meditation film of all
time. But for some reason, they never really show it in the theaters. You want to go with
me?”

“Sorry, handsome. I'm gonna have to pass. I'm just gonna hang out with Sergio tonight.”

Reid blinked, startled by the mention of a man’s name he’d never heard before. “Oh, shoot,
uh, I didn’t realize you...um...” he stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Relax, Reid,” Emily interrupted with a small laugh. “Sergio is my new cat. But, um... Thank
you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“Aw, thanks,” Reid replied, his voice warm. “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

“Yeah. That’s what I love about you. Bye, Reid.”

As the line disconnected, an uneasy feeling settled in Reid’s stomach.

Spontaneous proclamations of love.

Suddenly, he remembered something JJ had once said. People contemplating suicide

sometimes exhibit unusual behaviors, like unexpectedly expressing affection to loved ones—
almost as if they’re saying goodbye.

But suicide didn’t fit Emily. It was unthinkable.

So, what was it?

Reid couldn’t shake the gnawing worry in his chest. Something was definitely off with Emily.

***

“Reid? What are you doing here? I thought you went to that movie.”

“I changed my mind. I wanted to spend time with you—and Sergio.”

Emily instinctively glanced behind him, then stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door
behind him.

“Are you afraid of something?” Reid asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” Emily replied quickly.

“You’re picking your fingernails again,” he pointed out. “You do that when you’re stressed.”

“It’s just a bad habit,” she said, brushing it off.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Emily let out a soft laugh. “No.”

“No?” Reid raised an eyebrow, caught off guard.

“Come on, Reid. You’re my baby brother.”

Reid pouted, making Emily laugh again.

“I give hugs to Morgan when he needs comforting,” Reid offered with a grin, spreading his
arms.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” Emily stepped forward, letting Reid wrap her in a hug.

His embrace was awkward, as was the way he stroked her back, eliciting another laugh from
Emily.

“Sorry. Nice try, but you’re still my baby brother,” she teased.
“I can do better with Morgan,” Reid replied, scratching his cheek.

“I bet.” Emily patted his arm.

They settled onto the large sofa, and Emily poured him a cup of coffee.

“Who’s Lauren Reynolds?” Reid asked abruptly.

Emily froze for a moment. “What?”

“I heard you on the phone earlier. You said Lauren Reynolds is dead.”

“She was a friend of mine.”

“How did she die?”

“A car accident.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Reid didn’t press further, lowering his gaze to the steaming cup in his hands.

“Reid.”

“Hmm?”

“How are your headaches?” Emily’s voice softened, her concern evident.

“On and off,” he admitted, shrugging. “I’m kind of… getting used to them.”

“Have you tried seeing a different doctor?”

“Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out.”

“Does Derek know you’re seeing different doctors?”

Reid shook his head. “No. He’d just worry too much.”

Emily nodded, “He does.”

Reid glanced up at her, meeting her gaze. Her expression was filled with sisterly concern and
love, quite similar look he often saw on Morgan. He chuckled.

“Emily, you’re no better than Morgan.”

 Emily(2)
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 6, Episode 18. It's March 2011. Reid is 29,
Morgan is 37 years old.

“She left her badge and gun? Why would she do that?” Morgan’s voice was taut with tension.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why run? We’re her family. We can help her.” Fear and confusion
colored Reid’s words.

“She ran to protect us,” Rossi interjected, his gaze sweeping over the team, a quiet certainty
in his voice.

Morgan closed his eyes, his expression heavy with desperation.

JJ’s return to the team for this case had been a beacon of hope, lifting the team’s spirits when
they needed it most.

***

Morgan and Reid searched Emily’s apartment in silence. Reid had been here only yesterday,
and it felt as though Emily’s presence still hung in the air, faint but undeniable.

Despite the gravity of her own situation, Emily had been genuinely worried about his
headaches. Remembering the concern in her eyes, Reid felt a wave of emotion swell within
him.

What thoughts must have burdened her as she left the BAU? How much pain had she hidden,
how alone must she have felt?

They worked methodically, neither speaking for a while. The tension radiating from Morgan
was palpable, a mix of fury and frustration that rubbed Reid the wrong way.

Finally, Morgan broke the silence, holding a fake passport in his hands. “I worked with that
woman for five years. But right now, I can't even say I ever really knew her.”

Reid looked up, startled. “‘That woman?’”

Morgan met Reid’s gaze, his expression hard. “I still can’t believe she crossed the line with
Ian Doyle.”
The words grated on Reid. His irritation flared as he shot back, “Oh, come on, man. You’ve
never crossed the line with someone you didn’t have feelings for?”

“She slept with a terrorist,” Morgan snapped, the words sharp and unyielding.

Reid felt his temper rise. “Do you think she wanted to sleep with Doyle? That was eight years
ago, before she even met us! Why do you have to criticize her about her past operation now?”

Morgan didn’t reply at once, but the anger in his eyes was undeniable.

“It must have been so hard for her to go through this alone," Reid mumbled.

“She went through this alone because she didn’t trust us!” Morgan spat, his frustration
boiling over. “And that pisses me off!”

“She didn’t want to put us at risk!” Reid countered. “She was trying to protect us!”

“Protect us?” Morgan’s laugh was bitter, his anger intensifying. “Reid, she and I were
partners in the field. I put my life in her hands, and so did she. Where was that trust when it
mattered most? She knew what was happening, but she didn’t say a damn word.”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

“All we know is she slept with a terrorist for a profile. And instead of trusting us enough to
share the truth, she ran.”

Reid stared at Morgan, his gaze intense. Morgan held his ground, not flinching. After a
moment, Reid pushed past him.

“I’m done with this,” he said sharply. “I need to find Emily.”

***

Emily sat in the car, in pursuit of Doyle, fully aware her odds were next to nothing—if that.

She checked her phone and found a voicemail from Garcia.

“Hey, it’s me.”

The moment Garcia's voice filled the silence, Emily felt a pang of emotion, her guard
slipping just slightly. She listened, frozen.

“If it's you... if you're listening, please come home.”

Then Garcia’s tone shifted, edged with frustration.

“God, Emily, what did you think? That we’d just let you walk out of our lives? I’m so furious
at you right now!”

Her voice wavered, and Emily couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.
“Then I think about how scared you must be, how you’re in some dark place all alone. But
you’re not alone, okay? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We’re waving
flashlights and calling your name. So, if you can see us, come home. If you can’t, then...”

There was a pause, and Emily could hear Garcia choke back tears.

“Then you stay alive. Because we’re coming.”

Emily broke down in the dark, her body wracked with sobs.

***

The team finally uncovered Emily and Doyle's location. They moved in swiftly, accompanied
by a SWAT team.

Morgan took charge, his voice steady but urgent.

“Rescuing her is our primary objective. Our only advantage is stealth. Once they know we’re
here, there’s nothing stopping them from killing her. So we stay quiet until we reach her.”

Morgan’s breath caught, and a wave of panic surged through him when he saw Emily on the
floor, blood pooling around her from a stab wound inflicted by Doyle.

“I got her!” he shouted into his shoulder mic. “She’s in the basement on the south side! I need
a medic, now!”

Morgan dropped to his knees beside Emily.

“Prentiss.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her voice weak. “Derek...”

“Hey, it’s me. I’m right here,” he said, gripping her hand tightly. “You’re gonna be all right.
Stay with me.”

Her eyes began to close again.

“Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me!” His voice cracked as he pleaded.

Emily’s lips parted, her words barely audible. “Let me go…”

“No, no. I’m not letting you go.” Morgan’s intense gaze held her, as if refusing to let her slip
away.

“Help me!” he yelled desperately.

Lowering his voice, he leaned closer. “Listen to me. I know why you did all this, and I’m so
proud of you. Do you hear me? I’m proud of you because you’re my friend, and you are my
partner.”

Emily’s eyes fluttered briefly before closing again.

“Emily! No! Come on, stay with me!” Morgan’s voice broke as he continued to talk, refusing
to let her go. He held her hand tighter. “If you can hear me, just squeeze my hand. Please,
Emily, just squeeze my hand.”

A faint pressure.

“There you go,” he whispered, his voice trembling with hope. “There you go, baby. Just keep
squeezing.”

***

Emily was rushed to the emergency room immediately. The team gathered in the visitors’
lounge, a heavy silence hanging over them. Most sat motionless, unable to speak, while Reid
paced the room restlessly.

JJ entered the room, her eyes red and swollen.

“No...” Garcia murmured.

“She never made it off the table.” JJ said.

Rossi and Garcia broke down, their sobs filling the room. Morgan sat frozen, staring into
space, unable to process the reality.

Reid turned abruptly, ready to storm out, but JJ caught his arm.

“Spence.”

His voice quivered as he choked out, “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

JJ pulled him into an embrace, and he cried into her shoulder.

***

The entire funeral passed in a haze for Reid, feeling more like a surreal dream than reality.

His dejection was painful to witness. At the funeral reception, he hardly spoke to anyone, his
gaze fixed on some distant point, as if lost in another world.

Morgan, deeply concerned about Reid’s state, decided to take him home with him after the
reception.

“Reid… do you want some coffee?”

Reid shook his head silently.

Morgan sat beside him on the sofa, and they shared the silence for what felt like hours.

“Come on, Reid. Let’s get ready to sleep,” Morgan said eventually.

Both were utterly drained. Morgan waited until Reid fell asleep, which didn’t take long. Only
then did he allow himself to drift off as well.

Morgan found himself at a bar with Emily, just like old times. The same bar, the same spot.

Morgan was teasing her mercilessly for being so cautious about dating. Emily rolled her eyes
and replied, “That’s exactly why I got a cat.” Morgan laughed.

When they stepped outside, the cool night air was refreshing.

“Alright. See you tomorrow, Prentiss,” Morgan said, smiling.

“Derek, you’re not going to see me tomorrow.”

“Are you taking a day off?”

“No,” Emily replied with a soft laugh. “Derek, you’re not going to see me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked, his smile faltering.

Suddenly, Emily stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“I’ve always trusted you with my life, Derek.”

“I know, Emily. I know.”

The next moment, she was gone. Morgan looked around frantically.

“Emily! Emily!”

He shouted, spinning in circles. She couldn’t have just vanished. Her warmth still lingered on
his chest, as vivid as the hug had been.

“Emily!”

“Emily!”

“Morgan! Morgan, wake up!”

Morgan jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his eyes wide and disoriented. Reid was leaning
over him.
“Reid… she’s gone. She’s gone,” Morgan choked out, his voice breaking as tears streamed
down his face.

“She’s gone, Reid. Reid… she’s gone.” Morgan sobbed uncontrollably, gripping Reid as
though he were his only anchor.

“I know.”

Reid embraced him, his hand stroking Morgan’s broad back in comfort, tears streaming down
his own face. Reid realized how devastating the loss was to Morgan.

“I’m here, Morgan. I’m here,” Reid murmured.

For the first time, Morgan allowed himself to grieve Emily’s loss, his cries raw and
unrestrained.

The two of them held onto each other, grieving the loss of their friend. They cried together
for hours, their shared sorrow filling the silence.
 Balloon
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 19 and 20. It's April 2011.
Reid is 29, Morgan is 37.

Reid sat on the floor by the window, his knees drawn to his chest, face buried against them.
Cloony lay curled up at his side.

Morgan’s chest tightened at the sight, the posture too familiar. It was how he’d found Reid
during the worst of his withdrawal from Dilaudid—shut down, battling a heavy darkness that
had once threatened to consume him entirely.

Without a word, Morgan lowered himself to the floor beside him, close enough that their
shoulders almost touched.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Reid lifted his head, his eyes shadowed. “Yeah,” he murmured, though the hollowness in his
voice said otherwise.

Morgan reached out, his hand cupping Reid’s cheek with a tenderness that carried unspoken
words. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to Reid’s lips. For a moment, Reid responded,
leaning into the connection—but as the kiss lingered, he placed a hand on Morgan’s chest and
pulled back, his touch as hesitant as his apology.

“I’m sorry,” Reid said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan shook his head, his gaze steady and warm. “It’s all right.”

***

Emily’s death cast a shadow over the team, leaving a void that no one could ignore. They
immersed themselves in their work, hoping the distraction might ease the pain, but the weight
of grief hung heavily in the air, unspoken yet deeply felt.

Reid struggled with depression, but at work, he masked his emotions behind an unyielding
focus, immersing himself in tasks as though sheer effort could keep the grief at bay.

On weekends, Morgan and Reid kept up their routine of spending time together, often
inviting Garcia to join them for movie nights.
At other times, they simply sat in companionable silence or found solace in each other’s
arms. Memories of Emily would drift between them—achingly bittersweet, a blend of pain
and comfort.

Those quiet moments brought some peace, but intimacy remained elusive. Occasionally,
Morgan would initiate something more—a soft kiss, a gentle touch—but Reid would turn
away, his expression apologetic, unable to find the emotional space for more.

Morgan never pressed. He understood, offering patience and unconditional support in place
of words.

***

Hotch remained patient with Morgan, despite the sharp edge in his tone and the cynicism that
laced his words.

They were sitting in Hotch’s office.

“So? Am I supposed to talk about losing Emily? Strauss put you up to this?” Morgan scoffed.

“The assessment's routine.” Hotch’s voice was calm. “I asked her to let me do it rather than
bring in somebody from the outside.”

Morgan let out an irritated sigh.

“Are you angry?” Hotch asked, locking eyes with him.

“Angry?” Morgan’s frown deepened, as if the question were beneath him.

“Yeah. You're damn right I'm angry. Sometimes I feel like I want to quit my job and spend
my time chasing down the son of a bitch who killed Emily.”

Hotch was familiar with Morgan’s way of coping. It was easier for Morgan to channel his
anger and frustration than to show vulnerability or grief.

After a moment of silence, Hotch asked, “Morgan... have you had a chance to let out your
grief?”

Morgan paused, caught off guard by the question. Hotch saw his expression soften as he
seemed briefly transported to a memory—a night spent in tears, clinging to the one person
who understood him the most.

“Yeah,” Morgan said quietly, his voice low and thoughtful. “Yeah, I have.”

Hotch gave a small nod, observing the way Morgan’s expression softened. For a fleeting
moment, it was as if Reid’s presence had settled around him, offering him a solace that only
he could provide. Hotch was certain it was Reid who had helped Morgan release the grief
he’d been holding inside. He couldn’t help but feel a quiet admiration for how effortlessly
Reid filled the spaces that Morgan needed him to.

***

In stark contrast to Morgan’s tense energy, Reid sat in Hotch’s office as quiet and still as the
air itself.

“The last time I was on a couch like this was when my father left,” Reid murmured.

“They all thought I needed to talk, but developmentally, I wasn’t guided by conscience.”

Reid glanced at Hotch, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I could only reveal what my mother and teachers told me was acceptable.”

“You told them exactly what you knew they wanted to hear,” Hotch said softly.

Reid gave a small nod.

“You don’t have to do that here,” Hotch assured him, his tone gentle and steady.

Reid hesitated, his voice growing quieter. “It’s just...it's just unfair that she’s gone.”

He looked at Hotch briefly, his eyes clouded with unspoken pain. “It's like if we can't keep
each other safe, then why are we even doing any of this?”

His brows furrowed as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Sometimes I think
maybe... maybe Gideon was right. Maybe it’s just not worth it.”

Hotch held his gaze, his heart sinking at the profound sadness and despair he saw reflected in
Reid’s eyes.

***

Their sorrow lingered, but as the relentless demands of work took over, the team slowly
began to adjust to life without Emily.

Reid, however, remained stuck in a haze of depression. He had endured the pain of sudden
abandonment before—first by his father, then by Gideon—but this was different. Emily
hadn’t simply walked away; she was gone from the world entirely. The finality of her
absence weighed on him, leaving him unsure how to process such a loss or what he was
supposed to feel.

Winter faded into spring, but Reid barely noticed. The change in seasons, like the passage of
time itself, seemed irrelevant in the face of his grief.
***

One Saturday, Morgan suggested they have lunch at East Potomac Park. The cherry blossoms
were in full bloom, painting DC in soft hues of pink and white.

Morgan told Reid to meet him at the southern tip of Hains Point and promised to bring lunch.

But when Morgan arrived, he wasn’t just carrying lunch. In his hand, he held a balloon.

Reid frowned. “Where did you get the balloon?”

“Walgreens.”

“You bought it? Why?”

Morgan didn’t answer right away.

Reid groaned, realization dawning. “No. No way. Morgan.”

“What?” Morgan said, grinning. “It’s purple. Your favorite color.”

“You’re not doing this to me.”

“We’re doing it together.”

“Morgan, it’s not gonna work.”

“It’s okay if it doesn’t.”

Morgan’s grin softened, replaced by a somber expression.

“Let’s say a proper goodbye to Emily.”

At the word goodbye, Reid’s body tensed.

“I can’t...”

“Reid—”

“I don’t want to,” Reid said, staring at the ground.

“We have to,” Morgan said gently. “So we can move on.”

“I’m... I’m not ready to move on.”

“Emily would want us to.”

Reid stared at the balloon, unmoving. The silence stretched between them. Finally, he
reached out, gripping the string alongside Morgan. Morgan’s expression softened.

“Tell Emily what you need to say.”

“Can you go first?” Reid whispered.

“Okay...”

Morgan exhaled deeply. After a few moments of silence, he started.

"Emily, you were more than a teammate—you were my partner. You had this incredible way
of making everyone around you stronger, braver, and better. I trusted you with my life, and
you trusted me with yours. That’s a bond that doesn’t break, even now.”

His voice wavered as he paused, his emotions catching up to him.

“I promise to keep fighting, to protect the people you cared about, and to carry your legacy
with me. Rest easy, Prentiss. You’ll always be in my corner, and I’ll always carry you in my
heart.”

He turned to Reid. “Alright. Your turn.”

Reid hesitated, his voice barely audible when he began.

“Emily… I don’t have the right words for this. I wish I did. I wish I could say something
profound, something that would do justice to who you were and what you meant to me. But
all I can say is that I’ll miss you every day. I’ll miss your laugh, your warmth, your strength.”

His voice cracked, and tears spilled over. Morgan placed a steadying hand on Reid’s shoulder.

Reid took a shaky breath and continued.

“Losing you feels like losing a part of myself. But I’ll try to be strong, because I know that’s
what you’d want. I’ll never stop missing you, Emily.”

He wiped his eyes, his voice trembling.

“Goodbye, Emily. I love you.”

Morgan gave him a moment, then asked gently, “Are you ready?”

Reid hesitated but eventually nodded.

“On three,” Morgan said.

“One, two,...

“Three.”

Together, they released the balloon.

It floated gently into the blue spring sky, rising higher and higher until it became a faint
speck.

Reid’s tears continued to fall, but there was a sense of relief in them, a weight lifted from his
chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt just a little lighter.

When the balloon finally disappeared from sight, Reid leaned his head on Morgan’s shoulder.
Morgan wrapped an arm around him, holding him close as they stood in quiet understanding.

They strolled along the path in East Potomac Park, surrounded by cherry blossoms in full
bloom. The world that had felt dull and gray began to regain its vibrancy, and the soft pink of
the blossoms seemed to glow in Reid’s eyes.

They stopped at a spot overlooking the Potomac River, where the water mirrored the beauty
of the blossoms.

“This is where we first kissed,” Reid said quietly, taking in the breathtaking view.

“Yeah,” Morgan replied, his voice warm.

Reid turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “Did you bring me here on purpose?”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard. The thought of being accused of orchestrating a romantic
moment to rekindle their connection flustered him. His cheeks turned red as he stammered,

“What? No! No. For real, I didn’t plan this.”

Reid’s chuckle cut him off, a light, genuine sound. He stepped closer, his eyes softening as he
cupped Morgan’s face in his hands.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Reid teased before leaning in and pressing his lips
to Morgan’s.

The kiss was eager and full of unspoken emotions. Reid pulled back briefly, just enough to
whisper, “Morgan, I love you,” before diving back into the kiss.

Morgan’s arms wrapped tightly around Reid, his hands resting on the back of his spring coat.
The weight of everything they’d been carrying seemed to lift, as if the kiss had cleared away
the lingering fog in both their hearts.
 Hickeys
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 21. It's May 2011. Reid is
29, Morgan is 37.

Reid, Morgan, Garcia, and Seaver strolled out of the movie theater, their conversation
bubbling over the horror movie they’d just watched.

“I’m gonna have nightmares for a week,” Garcia groaned dramatically, slipping her arm
through Morgan’s.

“With everything that we do and see on a daily basis, that got to you?” Seaver teased.

“Listen, newb, you may be all Sigourney Weaver ass-kicking tough, which is awesome, but
the mystical mavens of innocence like myself jump at things that go bump in the night.”
Garcia shot back, lifting her chin in mock defiance.

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head.

Reid joined in. “Why are you worried? I’m sure Morgan will protect you.” Then he smirked
at Morgan. “As long as he's not jumping out of his chair like a prepubescent schoolgirl.”

Morgan shot him a playful glare. “The only reason I jumped is because you guys woke me
up.”

“How could you sleep through that?” Garcia demanded, rolling her eyes.

“Easy,” Morgan said with a shrug. “You drag me out after a 12-hour workday...For what?
You telling me that girl didn't know that the unsub was waiting for her upstairs? Come on,
now.”

“Villain,” Reid corrected, deadpan.

“What?”

“In movies, unsubs are called villains.”

Morgan heaved a theatrical sigh. “My bad.”

At the taxi line, Garcia slipped her arm free and turned to Reid with a grin. “Thanks for
lending me your boyfriend. I’ll give him back now.”

“Anytime,” Reid replied, smiling.

After exchanging goodnights with the ladies, Morgan and Reid made their way to the parking
lot.

***

After weeks of nights lacking intimacy, Morgan had grown used to sleeping next to Reid
without touching him.

The sudden warmth of Reid’s arms wrapping around him from behind made Morgan start, his
heart skipping a beat.

“Morgan,” Reid whispered.

Morgan’s hands instinctively found Reid’s, fingers intertwining as he held them close. “I’m
here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

Reid’s breath brushed against his ear, “Make love to me,” Reid said softly, each word laden
with longing.

The words sent shivers down Morgan’s spine. He turned to face Reid, and the sight before
him was electric. Reid’s flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the vulnerability in his eyes were
unmistakable signs of desire. Morgan’s heart pounded as a surge of excitement coursed
through him.

Reid’s expression ignited the passion Morgan had been suppressing for weeks. He pulled
Reid into a kiss, his lips hungry and intense, his throat releasing soft, primal sounds.

Fumbling with urgency, Morgan stripped off Reid’s clothes, then his own, in a blur.

His kisses were rougher than usual, moving feverishly down Reid’s neck and over his
collarbone. Each touch of his lips was firm, almost desperate, as though he were trying to
claim every inch of Reid’s skin. Morgan’s mouth lingered at the base of Reid’s throat,
sucking gently at first, then harder.

He trailed lower, pressing his lips to Reid’s chest, nipping and sucking with a hunger that
surprised even himself. His hands gripped Reid’s sides tightly, steadying him as he continued,
his lips marking a fiery path across the pale expanse of Reid’s torso.

Reid giggled softly, caught off guard by Morgan’s fervor.

“I feel like I’m being devoured,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement and desire.
Morgan paused, his breathing ragged. “I’m sorry…” he managed, forcing himself to slow
down.

Reid chuckled again, pulling Morgan closer. “It’s okay.”

Their kisses grew urgent once more as their bodies pressed together. Reid wrapped his legs
around Morgan, wanting to feel him as close as possible. Morgan held him tightly, moving
with desperate passion, his low groans filling the room.

Reid moaned, his fingers clinging to Morgan’s damp skin until his body tensed, trembling
with pleasure. Moments later, Morgan followed, his own body shuddering as he collapsed
onto Reid’s chest, his breath coming in uneven gasps.

“I love you,” Morgan whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion.

Afterward, Morgan lay beside Reid, stroking his skin gently and peppering his cheek with
kisses every so often.

Eventually, Morgan sat up, reaching for the bedside lamp. “I’ll go shower,” he said, leaning
in for one last kiss before standing.

That’s when he noticed. Reid’s neck and chest were covered in red marks.

Morgan froze, staring.

“What?” Reid asked, noticing his stare.

“Reid, I’m so sorry,” Morgan said, “I left hickeys all over you.”

Reid frowned slightly, glancing down at himself in the dim light. “It’s not that bad, right?”

“They’re… pretty red. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Reid replied, smirking. “Come on, Derek, it’s not the first time you’ve left hickeys,
right?”

“No. But...not this many.”

His fingers brushed lightly over Reid’s marked skin, the vivid red marks standing out starkly
against his pale complexion. “I guess I got carried away.”

When Reid finally looked in the mirror, he gasped. Morgan hadn’t been exaggerating—the
marks were numerous and vivid. Flushing, Reid touched one curiously, his fingers grazing
the red spots.

Morgan approached him, looking guilty. “Reid, I’m really sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s okay…” Reid murmured, still studying his reflection.

“I like it.”

Morgan blinked in surprise. “You do?”

“It’s like… I’m claimed,” Reid said, meeting Morgan’s eyes. “Marked by you.”

Morgan swallowed hard, his heart racing again.

“Like the reminder that I belong to you.”

Morgan didn’t know how to respond. The words struck him deeply, overwhelming him with
affection.

He pulled Reid into a gentle embrace.

“Mark me too,” he whispered. “I belong to you.”

Reid leaned in to kiss Morgan’s neck. He sucked hard, leaving a deep mark.

“You’re mine now,” Reid said with a grin.

“I’ve always been yours.” Morgan smiled.

“Since when?”

“Since I was born.”

***

By Monday, Reid’s hickeys had deepened to a shade of purple. Three visible marks peeked
above the collar of his shirt, prompting him to wear a thin scarf to work.

Morgan showed up without bothering to hide his hickey. His darker skin tone made it less
striking than the purple bruises on Reid’s pale neck, but it was still noticeable.

“Morgan,” Reid called from behind, catching up with him in the hallway.

“Good morning, genius.” Morgan flashed a smile, holding his coffee in his right hand.

“I can see it,” Reid whispered.

“See what?”

“The... the thing on your neck.”

“The thing? You mean the mark you left to claim your territory?” Morgan teased.

Reid flushed.

“Can’t you hide it?”

“How?” Morgan scoffed. “I wear a scarf, too?”

“How about your jacket?”

“It’s hot. Besides,” Morgan looked at Reid mischievously. “I want to show it off. Let
everyone know I’m already taken.”

Morgan leaned in with puckered lips, but Reid groaned and pushed his face away.

They walked into the bullpen, where Garcia was staring at the picture of Emily on the wall.

“Penelope, you’ve got to stop staring at her. Prentiss wouldn’t want us sulking. You know
that,” Morgan said gently.

“I’m not sulking. I’m surrounded by testosterone now,” Garcia sighed, turning to Morgan
before gasping.

“Derek. The last time you came to work with a hickey was five years ago.”

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan shrugged, sipping his coffee nonchalantly.

Garcia turned to Reid next, frowning. “Take off that scarf, Einstein. I already know what’s
underneath it.”

Before Reid could protest, Garcia yanked off the scarf and gasped again. “Oh my gosh,
Derek. You are an animal.”

Morgan nearly choked on his coffee, while Reid’s face turned beet red. Garcia quickly
replaced the scarf, her voice suddenly serious.

“Keep it on.”

Just then, Hotch called from across the room. “We’ve got a case.”

Seaver and Rossi raised an eyebrow when they noticed the hickey on Morgan’s neck. Their
eyes then flicked to the young genius, who was likely the one to have left the mark. Rossi
couldn’t suppress a subtle smile.

***

Reid sighed as he removed his scarf and put on the bulletproof vest, exposing the purple
hickeys on his neck. People’s lives were at stake, so there was no time to be embarrassed.

With Emily gone, Morgan was paired up with Reid more often. Reid exhaled sharply before
drawing his weapon.

“Are you ready?” Morgan asked.

“Yep.” Reid’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Though Morgan never let Reid walk in front of him, he trusted him completely to have his
back. Since the Foyet case, Reid’s tactical shooting had improved dramatically. He’d been
eager to enhance his tactical movement and close-quarters techniques, regularly participating
in simulation drills.

Morgan had watched him during the drills, offering advice and critiques. Reid always
listened intently, accepting Morgan’s feedback, no matter how harsh it was.

Morgan and Reid entered the unsub’s house.

Morgan moved first, weapon raised, scanning every corner. His muzzle swept the room ahead
in smooth, practiced arcs. Behind him, Reid mirrored his movements—slightly tense but
steady, covering their six.

They exchanged a quick nod at the hallway intersection, a silent agreement. Morgan took the
left, moving swiftly and fluidly, his weapon tracking his gaze. He cleared the room in
seconds, his voice steady as he called out, “Clear.”

On the right, Reid advanced into a smaller room. His gaze flicked from the corners to the
shadow beneath the bed, weapon steady as he checked the closet. His breath eased as he
found nothing, and he echoed, “Clear.”

Morgan joined him in the smaller room.

“Anything?”

“I don't think the unsub kept Angela here.” Reid said, holstering his weapon.

“Maybe he has a secondary location.” Morgan scanned the room.

“It's pretty careless to keep Angela’s clothes. He's plagued by a fear of chaos.” Reid
murmured thoughtfully.

Hotch and Seaver arrived on the scene, too.

Before joining them, Morgan stopped Reid to address a few things about his movements
while clearing the house.

“Reid, good work clearing the house, but I need to point out a few things.”

“Sure.”

“I noticed when we breached the living room, your muzzle discipline slipped for a moment—
you were pointing a little too close to my six. Always keep it downrange.”

“Alright, sorry.” Reid nodded.

“Also, when we moved through the hallway, you hesitated at the doorway before clearing it.
That hesitation could cost us if someone was lying in wait. Commit to your movement—slice
the pie or go hard through the threshold, but don’t stall.”

“Got it.” Reid nodded again.

Morgan softened his expression and patted his chest.

Seaver narrowed her eyes at them.

***

“They’re such an interesting pair,” Seaver remarked, leaning casually against the desk in the
tech room, her favorite spot for chats with Garcia.

“Who?” Garcia asked, tilting her head with a playful grin.

“Morgan and Reid,” Seaver replied.

“Ohhh, do tell,” Garcia said, her interest clearly piqued.

“Well, usually they’re like brothers—bickering and teasing constantly. Then, all of a sudden,
Morgan turns into Reid’s mentor, critiquing him, giving advice. And then... there’s this whole
other side of them.” Seaver’s voice dropped, almost conspiratorial.

“The ‘passionate lovers’ side, you mean?” Garcia asked, grinning knowingly.

“Exactly. It’s like they’ve crammed every kind of relationship into one,” Seaver said, shaking
her head in disbelief.

“Well, the lover thing is new,” Garcia admitted, her smile widening.

“Really? I figured they’d been in love forever,” Seaver said, genuinely surprised.

“They have,” Garcia replied. “But for the longest time, it was like a middle school crush—so
cute and innocent. All accidental arm touches and stolen glances.”

Seaver raised an eyebrow, a little surprised, “What, like, completely platonic?”

“Totally.” Garcia’s grin turned sly. “The most Morgan could manage was messing with
Reid’s hair, like some shy schoolboy.”

Seaver smirked. “And now they’re leaving hickeys all over each other?”

“I know, right?” Garcia sighed dramatically, “My babies are growing up.”
 Workout
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 6, Episode 24. It's end of May 2011.
Reid is 29, Morgan is 37.

Morgan gently brushed his fingers along Reid’s arm, relishing the feel of his boyfriend’s fine,
golden hair under his touch. His gaze rested on Reid’s face, but Reid didn’t miss the moment
his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

“What are you thinking?” Reid asked.

“Hmm? Nothing.” Morgan’s focus snapped back to him, but Reid’s knowing look lingered.

“You’re hiding something from me,” Reid said softly.

“What?”

“Morgan, I know you better than anyone, and I’m a behavioral analyst, in case you’ve
forgotten,” Reid replied, his voice carrying a mix of teasing and concern.

“You’re not supposed to profile your colleagues, in case you’ve forgotten,” Morgan
countered with a smirk.

“You’re my boyfriend.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Morgan’s face softened into a smile. He still felt the flutter of butterflies whenever Reid
called him “my boyfriend.”

Leaning closer, Morgan pressed a kiss to Reid’s neck. “Let’s do it again, boyfriend.”

“Morgan, stop.”

Reid pushed him back, and Morgan pouted dramatically. Reid, however, pressed on, ignoring
Morgan’s mock sulk.

“Are you considering the offer in the New York office?”

“No,” Morgan said, his brow furrowing. “Do you want to go to New York?”

“Why ask me? I’m not the one getting the offer.”
“I won’t go anywhere unless you come with me.”

Morgan spoke matter-of-factly, and Reid’s cheeks flushed faintly. He quickly refocused.

“Then what is it?”

Morgan sighed, his fingers still trailing along Reid’s arm. After a few moments of silence, he
sat up slowly, prompting Reid to do the same.

“I’m looking for Ian Doyle,” Morgan admitted.

Reid’s eyes widened in alarm. “By yourself?”

“Garcia’s helping me.”

Reid nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging her expertise. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It’s not. At least, not yet. When I find a credible lead, I’ll inform the team.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to remind you of what happened to Emily. But I was going to tell you sooner
or later.”

“I want to help,” Reid said, his voice firm with determination. “Tell me how I can help.”

***

The following Saturday, they were out on the Potomac River, gliding in a rowboat
surrounded by cherry trees heavy with green leaves.

“How does rowing a boat with you help us find Doyle?” Reid asked, pulling the oars to his
chest with an exasperated grunt.

“I need you to be fit. You need to exercise more. My research says knee-friendly activities
include golf, rowing, swimming, archery, and hiking. So here we are—rowing.”

Reid scrunched his nose, clearly annoyed by the smug grin on Morgan’s face.

Morgan laughed, unbothered. “You’re doing great.”

“My arms are going numb,” Reid grumbled, straining to push the oars forward. “Switch with
me. Your turn.”

“Oh, come on. Already giving up?”

“You’re too heavy.” Reid complained.

Morgan scoffed. “If you hate rowing so much, maybe it’s time to hit the gym. You should
start working out.”

Reid groaned in annoyance.

“Hey, you’re great with tactical movement and shooting. Now let’s work on strength. Build
up those muscles, genius.”

Reid dropped the oars with a huff, rubbing at his sore arms.

“Alright, alright. I'll do the rowing from here.”

Morgan chuckled, clearly amused.

“Reid.”

“What now?” Reid snapped, his tone sharper than intended.

Morgan’s grin didn’t falter. “Let’s kiss. That’s what couples do on rowboats.”

“You don’t deserve a kiss.” Reid pouted.

“Please,” Morgan said, leaning closer. His voice dropped to a tender murmur. “I love you.”

Reid’s feigned reluctance crumbled as he blushed, his lips twitching into a small smile before
meeting Morgan’s. The kiss was gentle, and Morgan’s warm smile lingered afterward.

“Thanks,” Morgan said softly.

Reid cleared his throat. “Okay, your turn. Switch.”

With that, Reid stood up, intending to swap places.

“Reid! Don’t stand up—”

Morgan began, but the warning came too late.

As he shifted his weight, the small boat tipped too far to one side. Before he could catch his
balance, he lost his footing and fell straight into the water with a splash.

Morgan’s eyes widened before he leapt in after him. He reached Reid quickly, steadying him
as they resurfaced together.

“You okay?” Morgan brushed wet hair away from Reid’s face.

Reid clung to Morgan, his expression caught between shock and indignation. “Cold,” he
muttered, shivering.

Morgan laughed, his deep chuckles reverberating across the water. “Well, that went
smoothly.”

Reid glared half-heartedly, water dripping from his hair. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Can you blame me? You just made this the most memorable rowboat ride ever.” Morgan’s
teasing only deepened Reid’s embarrassment, but soon a reluctant chuckle escaped him. The
absurdity of the situation was undeniable.

***

By the time they drove back to Morgan’s house, both of them were shivering.

“I need a hot shower,” Reid said, opening the door.

“Go ahead. I’ll get your towel and clean clothes,” Morgan replied.

Reid quickly stripped off his wet clothes and stepped into the shower, exhaling in relief as the
warm water rinsed over him.

He tried to hurry, knowing Morgan was also eager to shower, but then a thought stopped him
in his tracks.

“Morgan,” Reid called out.

Morgan was there in an instant. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh... do you... do you want to join me?” Reid asked, his voice hesitant, shy.

“Can I?” Morgan raised an eyebrow.

Reid’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Morgan’s face lit up. Without wasting a moment, he quickly undressed and joined Reid under
the spray. The steam enveloped them, their hearts racing in sync.

Morgan washed off quickly, but just as he reached for the soap, Reid stopped the water.
Without saying a word, he took a generous amount of body wash and lathered it between his
hands, then placed them gently on Morgan’s shoulders.

Morgan froze, startled by the unexpected gesture. His body tensed momentarily as he felt the
heat rise in his cheeks, his heart hammering in his chest.

Reid started at Morgan’s neck, his touch slow and deliberate. Morgan swallowed, the motion
noticeable beneath Reid’s fingertips. Reid moved to his arms—strong and muscular, the very
ones he had always admired. A wave of desires surged through Reid, overwhelming and
intoxicating.

Morgan remained still, his resolve firm not to disrupt the moment. He didn’t want to
embarrass Reid or make him stop. Instead, he chose to savor each touch, each connection,
fully present with his beloved boyfriend.

Reid added more soap and let his hands glide over Morgan’s chest, tracing the defined lines
of his muscles. His breath hitched as he brushed over the firm ridges of Morgan’s abs, the
strength under his touch both reassuring and exhilarating. Reid’s cheeks burned, but he
pressed on.

Circling behind Morgan, Reid’s hands explored his broad back, tracing the powerful lines
with reverence.

His fingers moved lower, gliding over Morgan’s waist before slipping between his thighs.
Tentatively, his hand wrapped around Morgan, causing a shudder to run through him.

“Mmm…” Morgan groaned, bracing himself against the wall with one arm, a deep flush
spreading across his skin. “Reid… I want to kiss you,” he murmured, his voice thick with
need.

“Wait…” Reid murmured back, his hand movements still uncertain but filled with intent. His
earnest desire to make Morgan feel good was overwhelmingly endearing

“Uhh... Reid...” Morgan gasped, breath hitching. “Reid, hold me… please, hold me.”

Reid wrapped his arm around Morgan’s torso, pulling him close, his other hand continuing its
tender exploration. The warmth of their bodies pressed together sent a surge of electricity
through Morgan. Without warning, Morgan’s release came, a tremor shaking his body as he
let go, his breath ragged.

Turning around, Morgan pulled Reid into a tight embrace, steadying himself as he caught his
breath. He cupped Reid’s face tenderly, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“My turn to take care of you,” Morgan whispered, a soft smile curling on his lips.

He guided Reid under the warm spray, his hands moving with intention and care. From
behind, he kissed Reid’s ear, drawing a soft moan from him as he began to wash him.
Morgan’s hands moved slowly across Reid’s chest, each caress electrifying as they traveled
lower.

“Ahh…” Reid let his head fall back against Morgan’s shoulder, a shiver of pleasure running
through him. His hand found Morgan’s neck, holding on as if grounding himself in the
moment.

Morgan continued with a loving precision, his hands caressing every sensitive part of Reid’s
body. Reid’s moans grew louder, filled with raw emotion and intimacy. “I love you, Reid... I
love you.” Morgan whispered repeatedly, his voice a steady reassurance in Reid’s ear.

***

The team was working on a case involving domestic trafficking.

The investigation began when a car transporting deceased bodies, connected to a criminal
group, was involved in an accident. The driver was killed, and the local PD couldn’t identify
him.

Morgan and Rossi examined the car while Reid spoke with the local police.

“The tank’s three-quarters full,” Rossi noted, checking the fuel gauge inside the car.

Morgan quickly did the math. “Well, it says here the capacity's 18 gallons, and it gets 15
miles per gallon. With a quarter tank used, he must have fueled up about 70 miles ago.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Okay, Reid.”

Morgan scoffed. “Reid wouldn’t say ‘roughly 70 miles ago.’ He’d give the exact number.”

“How’s the kid?” Rossi asked.

“He’s doing fine.”

“He’s turned into quite the field agent.”

“Yeah, he’s good, right?” Morgan replied with a proud grin.

Reid approached them. “Did you find anything?”

Rossi and Morgan exchanged a look.

“The tank’s three-quarters full,” Rossi told him.

“The capacity is 18 gallons,” Morgan added.

“So the unsub fueled up 67.5 miles ago,” Reid said, already pulling out his phone. “Garcia,
can you list gas stations within a 67.5-mile radius of this location?”

Rossi and Morgan exchanged smirks.

“What?” Reid asked, frowning.

Garcia quickly identified the gas station where the driver had stopped. Morgan and Rossi
headed there and spoke to the attendant who had been on duty. They learned the driver had
used a payphone at the station.

Garcia traced the call to a property in rural Virginia. The site, now abandoned, was likely
where the unsubs held their kidnapped victims.

“Rossi, I need you with me this time,” Morgan said as he geared up.

“I thought you trusted Reid in the field now,” Rossi replied, strapping on his bulletproof vest.

“Not for this one. Too many men to handle. Reid’s not equipped for physical confrontations.
He’s got zero hand-to-hand combat skills.”
Rossi nodded. “You could teach him judo. You’re a black belt, right?” He spoke half-teasing,
but Morgan looked thoughtful.

“It might suit him, actually. Judo’s all about using an opponent’s momentum against them. A
small kid can throw a grown man. It’s not just brute strength like boxing or wrestling.”

Morgan could already imagine Reid’s groan at the suggestion and smirked to himself.

***

Morgan and Rossi entered the abandoned property with the SWAT team.

Inside, the air was thick with an eerie stillness. The dim light barely illuminated the rows of
cages lining the walls, a haunting reminder of the trafficking victims who had been
imprisoned there.

Morgan barely had time to react before an unsub, a towering mass of muscle and rage, lunged
at him from the shadows.

His weapon clattered to the ground as the unsub slammed into him, driving them both into
the wall. Gritting his teeth, Morgan shoved back, landing a series of sharp jabs to the unsub's
ribs, but the man was relentless, swinging wild punches that Morgan narrowly dodged.

They grappled fiercely, the unsub’s brute strength forcing Morgan to counter with every
ounce of skill and speed he had. Finally, spotting an opening, Morgan twisted free, pivoted,
and delivered a powerful right hook.

The man staggered, his eyes rolling back before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Breathing hard, Morgan stood over him, shaking his arm and muttering under his breath,
“Man, you’ve got a hard head.”

***

Morgan returned to the BAU, rubbing his arm, his face weary.

“What happened to you?” Reid frowned in concern.

“That guy was huge. Seriously.” Morgan let out a heavy sigh.

Reid’s lips curled into a smirk. “You should start working out.”

“Oh, you got jokes now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Chicago Trip
Chapter Notes

This story takes place after season 6. It's June 2011, Morgan’s 38th birthday.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped over Reid’s shoulders. Reid looked
a little out of his element but managed a polite smile, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his
napkin.

Desiree, Morgan’s younger sister, placed a bowl of salad in the center of the table and took
her seat across from Reid, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“You look so different,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

“Really? How so?” Reid asked, his brows lifting in mild surprise.

Before Desiree could answer, Sarah, her older sister, jumped in with a grin. “She means you
look so handsome now.”

Morgan chuckled, leaning in to kiss Reid’s temple. “She’s not wrong.”

“I didn’t say that!” Desiree protested, her cheeks reddening. “I meant—well, you wore
glasses. And your hair was longer.”

Fran, Morgan’s mother, joined in with a warm smile. “Was it five years ago when we first
met you?”

“Four years, five months, and twenty-four days,” Reid replied without missing a beat. Sarah,
already accustomed to his precise nature, smirked and shook her head slightly, amused.

The birthday dinner for Morgan was welcoming and lively, easing Reid’s earlier nervousness.
He found himself laughing and settling into the rhythm of their teasing banter.

“So, Spencer,” Desiree started, her tone light and teasing. “How long have you been putting
up with this one?” She tilted her head toward Morgan with a grin.

“Desiree,” Morgan warned, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Reid smirked, his playful side emerging. “Well, if you mean how long we’ve been dating, it’s
been two years. But if you mean how long I’ve been putting up with him… That would be
seven years, since I joined the BAU.”

Desiree burst out laughing, nearly choking on her drink. “Oh, I like you.”
“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Morgan said, fixing Reid with an exaggerated look of
betrayal.

Fran chimed in with a sly smile. “Feel free to share any embarrassing stories about Derek,
Spencer.”

Sarah leaned forward eagerly. “We already have plenty of those, Mama. Like the time he
thought he could cook Christmas dinner and nearly burned the kitchen down.”

Morgan groaned, throwing his hands up. “That was sixteen years ago. Can we please let it
go?”

Desiree grinned at Reid. “We still get Christmas cards from the fire department.”

Morgan turned to Fran, his voice full of mock exasperation. “Mama, you see how they treat
your baby boy?”

“You be good to your brother,” she said to the sisters, a note of playful warning in her voice.

“Hear that?” Morgan shot his sisters a smug look.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You got the ‘baby’ part right.”

“You know what? That’s it.” He grabbed a napkin and tossed it at Sarah in mock attack. She
squealed, laughing as she threw it back.

***

After dinner, Reid insisted on helping Sarah clean up.

“You remember, right? It used to be our thing when you were in DC last year,” he said,
grinning.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied, returning his smile.

Back then, they’d always cleaned together after dinner while taking care of Ellie Spicer.
Sarah had come to DC to help, staying with Ellie for a month.

They worked together in the kitchen, chatting easily about their lives and swapping playful
remarks about Morgan.

***

Fran wiped her hands with a towel and sat down at the dining table beside her son. She
glanced toward the kitchen, where Reid and Sarah were laughing softly as they worked.

“I like him,” Fran began, her voice warm but thoughtful.

Morgan smiled. “I knew you would.”

Fran’s smile faltered just slightly. “And I know how serious you are about him. He was the
first person I was introduced to. But, baby, I need to talk to you about something.”

Morgan straightened, sensing the shift in tone. “What’s on your mind, Mama?”

Fran sighed, folding her hands on the table.

“You know I’ve always wanted grandchildren.”

Morgan exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Mama…”

“You just turned 38, Derek, and I’m not getting any younger.”

Fran continued, “I know things are different for you and Spencer, but it’s not the same as—”

“As what?” Morgan cut in, his voice calm but firm. “As having kids the ‘traditional’ way?”

Fran hesitated. “I just don’t know much about… the other ways. And even if it’s possible, it
sounds complicated. Expensive. What if it doesn’t work?”

“There are ways, Mama,” Morgan said, his voice softening. “Adoption, surrogacy… families
like ours aren’t impossible. But I don’t want to pressure Spencer into thinking we have to
have kids. We haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

Fran frowned, concern etched into her features. “You know how much family means to me.
To us.”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, Mama. I do.”

From the doorway, Reid and Sarah froze, having caught the tail end of the conversation.
Reid’s cheeks flushed, and he hurriedly stepped out of view.

Sarah followed him into the hallway, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, don’t let that get to
you.”

Reid shook his head, forcing a weak smile. “It’s fine.”

“Spencer,” Sarah said firmly, “You don’t have to worry about what Mama wants.”

“Actually, I do. I care about what my mom wants.” Reid glanced at Sarah. “I want Derek to
care about what Fran wants too. It’s understandable if Fran thinks I don’t measure up to
Derek.”

“Nobody said that. Mama just said she wants grandchildren.”

Reid didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Spencer, I don’t know where your insecurities are coming from, but you need to be
confident in yourself.”
Sarah looked at him warmly.

“Derek told me you’re part of him and that he can’t live without you.”

Her gaze turned thoughtful. “I’ve never heard him say something so vulnerable before.”

Then she looked at Reid again.

“You changed him. He’s always lived his life as a protector, hiding behind heavy armor,
never showing his weak side. With you, he takes that armor off. I can see it. He’s okay to be
vulnerable now. As his older sister, that’s a relief to me.”

Reid nodded, comforted by Sarah’s words.

“And Spencer,” Sarah said, squeezing his hand. “Just know you’ve got me in your corner.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” Reid said quietly. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“What's funny?” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

Reid chuckled softly. “You’re like the female version of Morgan.”

Sarah rolled her eyes with a playful grin. “Oh, stop. I’m definitely not like him.”

***

Back in the dining room, Fran reached for Morgan’s hand. “I just want you to be happy. Both
of you. And to know there’s a future for you two together.”

“There is, Mama,” Morgan said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. Just… give us time.”

Fran nodded slowly, though the unease in her expression remained.

***

There was a knock on the door to the room they’d prepared for Reid.

“Hey.” Morgan poked his head in.

“Hey.” Reid smiled warmly.

“Are you tired?” Morgan asked, sitting down beside Reid on the bed.

“A little,” Reid replied softly.

“This room used to be mine.”

“I figured,” Reid grinned, looking around. The room had been transformed into a guest space,
but traces of Morgan as a high school student remained—football and judo trophies lined the
shelf, along with his high school diploma, textbooks, and a few framed photos.
Reid stood up, picking up one of the frames. It was a picture of Morgan with his teammates.

“You look cute,” Reid said with a smile.

“Thanks.”

“How old were you in this picture? Eighteen?” Reid sat back down, showing the photo to
Morgan.

“Yeah, I was eighteen.”

“So, that was twenty years ago,” Reid said, his tone light.

“Man, I feel old,” Morgan sighed.

Reid laughed softly and kissed Morgan’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, Morgan,” he whispered.

“Thank you.” Morgan kissed him back on the cheek.

“I haven’t got you a present. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I wanted you to come to Chicago with me—and you did.”

Reid shrugged. “You said Sarah wanted to see me. That’s why I came.”

“Okay. Then…” Morgan paused, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I want... you.” He
pulled Reid closer, gently cupping the back of his neck as he kissed him. His other hand slid
to Reid’s thigh.

“Hey.” Reid caught Morgan’s wrist, his face flushing. “We’re not having sex here. It’s
disrespectful.”

“Okay,” Morgan sighed.

He then lay down on the bed, resting his head in Reid’s lap. Reid softly stroked Morgan’s
face.

As Morgan lay there, being gently cared for, he wondered how he had ever lived his life
without Reid, now that being with him felt so essential.

The memories of his old room carried some dark weight—bloodstained underwear hidden in
drawers, tears shed in silence, prayers that were never answered.

But now, with Reid in the room, his presence seemed to cleanse the painful memories,
replacing them with a warmth and comfort.

“Reid.”

Morgan reached up, his hand cupping Reid’s face.

“Kiss me.”

Reid leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Reid…” Morgan said again, his voice soft but filled with longing.

“I love you.”

His gaze was full of sincerity, his words deep with emotion.

“I love you too,” Reid replied, his voice equally heartfelt.

Morgan sat up and pulled Reid into a tender embrace. “I love you, Spencer Reid.”

When he finally pulled away, he grinned mischievously. “How many times have I told you I
love you?”

“One thousand four hundred... something.”

“Something?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the exact number?”

“I lost count. Sorry.”

“How could you?” Morgan pouted, his expression exaggeratedly sulky.

“Because you say it a lot during orgasms. My head gets fuzzy,” Reid said matter-of-factly.

Morgan burst into laughter at the bluntness.

“I’ll tell you I love you a million more times,” Morgan smiled.

Reid laughed. “That’s impossible. You’d have to tell me you love me 52.7 times a day, every
day, until you’re ninety years old.”

“52.7 times?” Morgan thought for a moment. “That’s doable,” he said with a grin.

Reid chuckled, shaking his head.

After a few minutes of silence, Morgan asked,

“Do you think about our future?”

Morgan sensed the tension in Reid’s body, noticing the way his shoulders tightened and his
hands fidgeted slightly. He studied Reid’s face, noting the anxious expression that made his
own unease grow.

“I... I do,” Reid answered cautiously.

“What do you think about?”

Reid didn’t answer. Instead, he deflected. “How about you?”

“I do. A lot.”

When Reid remained silent, Morgan pressed on, unable to suppress the growing restlessness
in his chest.

“I think about when I should officially propose to you.”

Reid instinctively looked up at Morgan, but his gaze quickly dropped.

Morgan’s heart sank; Reid wasn’t mirroring his enthusiasm or hope. The disparity gnawed at
him, driving him to keep talking despite the hollow feeling creeping in.

“I imagine our wedding. I think about what kind of house we’d want to live in. I think about
everyday life with you. I wonder what it would be like to have kids together.”

He spoke fervently about their future, but his unease deepened as he realized he was the only
one so hopeful.

“Reid, what is it? What’s bothering you?”

No response.

“Is it about having children?”

“I can’t even think that far,” Reid replied.

“So it’s about marrying me.” Morgan didn’t even try to hide his distress. His face fell, as
though Reid had just said he wanted to break up.

Reid felt the weight of Morgan’s pain and knew he had to come clean.

“I have to be sure I don’t develop schizophrenia before I even start considering marrying
you.”

“What?” Morgan looked completely baffled. “What are you saying? That if you have a
mental illness, you can’t marry me?”

Frustrated, Reid snapped, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Morgan’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “That gives us even more reason to get married soon.”

“What... why?” Reid’s brows knitted together.

“So I can take care of you.”

“Take care of... Morgan! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Reid stood up in frustration.

“Reid.”
“You... you don’t know what it's like to... to live with someone with schizophrenia.” Reid
stammered.

“You’re not just someone. I love you.”

“I loved my mom too! I loved her more than anyone in the world! But I still sent her away to
an institution!”

“You were just a kid. You were 18.”

“You don’t know. You just don’t know,” Reid said, his voice trembling.

Morgan sighed. He wanted to argue, to tell Reid all the reasons why this fear didn’t matter to
him, but he recognized the raw emotion in Reid’s words. This wasn’t the time.

“Okay... I’m sorry,” Morgan said, standing and moving to Reid’s side. “We don’t need to talk
about it now. Okay?”

Reid hesitated, then nodded.

“Come here.”

Morgan pulled Reid into an embrace, stroking his hair gently. Despite the heavy
conversation, Morgan held on to his optimism. He was sure he could convince Reid—
eventually—that any mental condition, if it ever arose, wouldn’t hinder their future together.

Not for him. Not for them.

 Stakeout
Chapter Notes

This story takes place after season 6. It's summer 2011. Reid is 29, Morgan is 38.

Morgan and Reid sat in Morgan’s SUV, parked discreetly outside a prestigious boarding
school in Stafford County. Their mission was unofficial, but the stakes felt high—finding
Declan, Ian Doyle’s twelve-year-old son.

The early summer sun streamed through the windshield, baking the car’s interior. Reid
pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead, squinting at the schoolyard.

“I got him,” Morgan said suddenly, raising his binoculars higher.

“Where?” Reid asked, practically snatching the binoculars from Morgan’s hands before the
other agent could respond.

He leaned across Morgan’s body, pressing against him to get a better view out the driver’s
side window. The angle was awkward, and Reid’s elbows jutted into Morgan’s chest as he
adjusted the focus.

Morgan’s hand casually found its way to Reid’s hip, his tone playfully low. “Careful, pretty
boy. Don’t go falling out the window.”

Reid froze mid-lean, turning sharply to face him. “Are you—did you just—” His voice
caught when he realized how close their faces were.

Morgan leaned in and stole a quick kiss, his grin broad and unapologetic. “Just making sure
you don’t fall, genius.”

Reid’s face flushed as he huffed, retreating to his seat and shoving the binoculars back into
Morgan’s chest with a scowl.

Morgan chuckled, unbothered, and turned his attention back to the schoolyard. “Garcia says
he’s an honor student. Plays lacrosse. Wins science fairs. Kid’s got his act together.”

Reid’s gaze followed, spotting Declan—a healthy-looking boy with blond hair and an easy
smile—waving cheerfully to his friends.

“It looks like he’s got the life Emily wanted him to have,” Reid murmured, softening his
expression.
***

Earlier that week, Morgan, Garcia, and Reid had finally uncovered a crucial lead in Ian
Doyle’s case: the location of his son, Declan Doyle.

They pieced together that Emily, who had faked Declan’s death to protect him, must have
joined the BAU eight years ago to stay close to him. This revelation pointed to one
conclusion—Declan was in D.C.

“She could’ve gone anywhere with her skill set, but she chose D.C.,” Morgan said, the
realization settling over him.

Garcia’s eyes widened as she processed the implication. “So, you’re saying she came here
just to be close to the kid?”

Following the trail, Garcia delved into Emily’s connections in D.C. and identified a forger
who had helped her create new identities for Declan and his nanny.

It wasn’t long before Garcia announced, “I found Declan. He’s enrolled at a boarding school
in Stafford County.”

Since then, their focus had shifted to watching Declan. Ian Doyle would come for his son
eventually—it was only a matter of time. Their mission was clear: protect Declan and capture
Ian Doyle.

***

Stakeout wasn't exactly Morgan’s or Reid’s forte. They got bored quickly.

It was day five of their stakeout.

Reid and Morgan sat in the car, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional
sound of passing traffic to keep them company.

Morgan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, clearly bored.

Reid, engrossed in a book, barely looked up. “Silence sounds preferable to whatever you’re
about to suggest.”

Morgan smirked. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. Let’s play a game.”

Reid sighed, closing his book. “Fine. What game?”

“How about...I Spy.”

Reid stared at him. “We’re sitting in a car. There’s nothing to spy.”

“Exactly. It’ll be a challenge,” Morgan grinned. “Okay, I’ll start. I spy with my little eye,
something... brown.”

Reid gave him a deadpan look. “The dashboard. Obviously.”

“Wrong. It’s your hair,” Morgan said, reaching over to ruffle it before Reid could swat his
hand away.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” Morgan chuckled. Reid sighed, sinking deeper into his
seat.

***

Day twenty of their stakeout rolled around with little progress to report.

Reid lay back, the car seat reclined all the way down, eyes closed.

“Are you sleeping?” Morgan asked, glancing over.

“I’m meditating.”

“What are you meditating about?”

“You can’t use ‘meditate’ like that. It’s different from thinking,” Reid replied, his voice
steady, eyes still shut.

“Sure you can. It means to think about something deeply.”

“Wrong. Meditation is the deliberate engagement in contemplative or introspective practices

designed to facilitate heightened states of self-awareness, mental equipoise, and
transcendental cognition through sustained focus and attenuation of extraneous sensory
stimuli.”

Morgan scoffed.

There was no sign of any students outside, no suspicious cars or people.

Morgan exhaled and glanced at Reid, who was still “meditating.” His long, slender legs
stretched out beside him.

Unable to resist, Morgan extended his hand and squeezed Reid’s thigh.

“Ah!” Reid yelped, shooting upright.

Reid glared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Morgan, you’re supposed to be on duty.”

“You were meditating while on duty,” Morgan shot back.

“I was meditating about the case.”

“A-ha!” Morgan exclaimed, grinning. “You just used ‘meditate’ as a synonym for ‘think.’”

Reid blinked, realizing his slip. He bit his bottom lip. Morgan laughed.

“If you’re so bored, help me with this.”

Morgan handed Reid a Sudoku puzzle and a pencil. About a quarter of it was filled in, with
corrections scattered across the page.

“Sudoku? Come on, this should be easy. Even for you.”

Morgan gave Reid’s head a playful shove. “‘Even’?”

Reid scanned the puzzle half-heartedly before pausing. “Wait...”

Morgan grinned, clearly satisfied by Reid’s reaction.

“It’s AI Escargot,” Morgan explained. “The most difficult Sudoku puzzle out there. Created
by Arto Inkala, a Finnish mathematician. Ever heard of him?”

Reid was already focused, his brows furrowing as he dove into the puzzle.

Morgan watched him with interest. He had started the puzzle a few days ago, gotten
frustrated, and eventually abandoned it. It was said that even professional Sudoku enthusiasts
could take hours to solve it.

After about ten minutes of silence, Reid finally spoke. “See? You got this number wrong. It
should be a 7 here.”

Reid began correcting the numbers Morgan had filled in. Then, with growing speed, he filled
in the remaining numbers.

“Done,” Reid said, handing the paper back to Morgan.

Morgan stared at the completed puzzle in awe. “You’re a genius.”

“Didn’t you know?” Reid grinned.

***

By the time July arrived, JJ officially returned to the team, taking over for Seaver after her
transfer and inspiring courage in the team as they coped with Emily's absence.

For the Fourth of July this year, the younger members of the team decided to avoid the chaos
of the National Mall. Instead, they reserved a table at the rooftop bar of the Rosewood Hotel,
an elegant and serene setting far above the bustling crowds.

Upon arrival, Garcia, JJ, Morgan, and Reid were greeted with glasses of chilled champagne.
The atmosphere was a perfect blend of stylish and cozy—soft amber lighting illuminated the
intimate space, and potted greenery surrounded the tables, adding a touch of warmth. Their
table offered an unobstructed view of the horizon, where bursts of fireworks would soon light
up the night.

As they settled into their seats, they raised their glasses in a toast.

“To Emily,” Garcia said with a smile, raising her glass.

“And to your return,” Reid said to JJ.

They clinked their glasses, celebrating both Emily’s memory and JJ’s return to the team.

The meal that followed was nothing short of spectacular—a series of artfully plated courses
featuring everything from delicate crab cakes to perfectly cooked filet mignon. By the time
dessert arrived—a rich chocolate soufflé with a hint of espresso—the city’s fireworks had
begun. Vibrant colors exploded across the sky, their reflections shimmering in the river
below.

Laughter and easy conversation filled the evening, making the group feel like a family as
they soaked in the moment.

When the plates were cleared, Morgan leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, Reid and I are actually staying here tonight.”

JJ and Garcia’s eyes widened, and they both turned to Reid with knowing looks. His cheeks,
already flushed from the champagne, slightly deepened in color.

While Morgan was settling the bill, Garcia leaned toward Reid, her voice low and teasing.
“So... any progress?”

Reid raised an eyebrow, instantly realizing she wasn’t asking about the Declan stakeout.

“Not much, but...”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The other day, we did it in the shower.”

He smirked proudly. Champagne was clearly melting his shyness. Garcia and JJ exchanged
wide-eyed glances, a mix of surprise and amusement flashing across their faces. JJ quickly
glanced over her shoulder to ensure Morgan wasn’t returning to the table just yet.

“That’s great. And tonight’s the perfect chance to spice things up even more,” Garcia
whispered conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming.

“How?” Reid whispered back.

Before Garcia could reply, Morgan returned.

“You guys ready?” he asked, draping his arms around Reid’s shoulders from behind and
pressing a kiss to his temple.
JJ rolled her eyes, “Wait until you’re in your room, you two.”

Garcia linked arms with JJ, giving Reid a playful wink as they prepared to leave. “Let’s leave
the lovebirds to it. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, ladies,” Morgan said with a grin as the pair walked away, leaving him and Reid
to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

***

The room was opulent yet inviting, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the rich wood
furnishings and plush, cream-colored bedding. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a
breathtaking view of the D.C. skyline.

Morgan guided Reid to the bed, gently tugging off his tie, shirt, and tank top with practiced
ease.

Reid, tipsy from the champagne, couldn’t stop the giggles spilling out. Each laugh was light
and carefree, a rare sight that made Morgan grin.

“You’re drunk, huh?” Morgan teased, his voice low and amused.

“I’m not,” Reid smiled.

“You are,” Morgan replied, shaking his head affectionately.

“Take off your shirt, Morgan.”

Morgan complied without hesitation, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Lie down,” Reid instructed.

Morgan chuckled and obeyed, stretching out on the luxurious bed.

Reid climbed on top of him, his slender frame draping over Morgan’s broad chest. Reid
sighed contentedly, nestling closer. “Hmm…”

Morgan’s initial plans for a romantic, passionate evening dissolved the moment he felt Reid’s
weight settle, accompanied by the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. Reid had fallen
asleep, lulled by warmth and comfort.

A fond smile tugged at Morgan’s lips as he wrapped his arms securely around Reid, his hand
gently stroking along Reid’s back. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Reid’s head.

Morgan gazed at his sleeping boyfriend, feeling an overwhelming wave of affection. The
longing for an intimate evening faded entirely, replaced by the quiet joy of holding him close.

***

Morgan woke to the sound of the shower running.

He sighed, wishing he could have woken up next to Reid and shared a shower together.

He glanced at the clock. It was still before six. Reaching out from the bed, Morgan drew back
the curtain, letting the bright, orange morning light fill the room.

His heart skipped a beat when Reid stepped out of the bathroom, naked, drying his hair with
a towel.

Morgan couldn’t help but stare. The soft morning light highlighted Reid’s figure, making him
look even more striking.

“Reid.”

Reid turned, realizing for the first time that Morgan was awake.

“Did I wake you?”

“Kind of.”

“Sorry. I was... getting ready.”

“For work? It’s still six.”

“No... not for work. For... well... you know.” Reid’s face flushed as he fumbled with his
words. “I fell asleep last night, so...”

Morgan understood and quickly climbed out of bed. “I’ll get ready too,” he said with a grin,
heading for the bathroom.

After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Morgan returned and climbed back into bed next
to Reid, his gaze still drawn to his boyfriend's slender body.

Reid noticed Morgan’s eyes on him, his face growing redder with embarrassment, but he held
still, his heart racing with anticipation.

Morgan leaned in, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along Reid's neck, as though handling
something both precious and fragile.

His fingers trailed over Reid's chest, seeking out the subtle peaks, and began to tease them
gently, drawing a shiver in response.

Morgan’s kisses traveled lower, tracing a path down Reid’s flat, pale belly. He paused at
Reid’s navel, brushing it lightly with his lips before stopping. This was as far as he had ever
ventured before.

Lifting his head, Morgan wrestled with the temptation to go further, his breath unsteady.

Morgan’s face was only inches away from the heat of Reid’s desire. Morgan swallowed hard,
his pulse racing.
“Spencer,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant. “Can I kiss it?”

“Hm?” Reid’s response was hazy, his head swimming in the blissful fog of the moment, eyes
still closed.

“Can I taste you?” Morgan asked again, his words carrying more clarity and intent.

Reid’s eyes flew open, the meaning of the question suddenly sinking in.

Morgan's gaze was heavy with longing, his eyes searching Reid’s face.

Unable to bear the intensity, Reid lifted an arm to shield his eyes.

Morgan reached out, gently moving Reid’s arm aside before cupping his flushed cheek.

“You can say no,” he said softly.

Reid hesitated, his breath shaky. “Can you... close your eyes?”

Morgan gave a small nod. “Okay. So... is that a yes?” His voice held careful patience,
needing absolute certainty.

Reid nodded quickly, then grabbed a pillow, pressing it over his face as though to hide
completely. “I’m ready,” he murmured, his voice muffled.

Morgan leaned down again, his movements deliberate and tender. He steadied Reid with one
hand, his fingers curling lightly at the base. Lowering his head, Morgan pressed gentle kisses
to the heated skin, savoring the sensation on his lips.

“Hmm...! Mm...” Reid’s body jolted with excitement, clearly sensing Morgan’s soft lips
pressed against him. His fingers clenched around the pillow.

Morgan moved with deliberate care, slowly taking in the full length in his mouth.

“Ahhh...ahh...!”

Reid’s entire body reacted, another shudder coursing through him as his toes curled. The
warmth inside Morgan’s mouth was overwhelming, sending waves of intense pleasure.

Morgan moved his mouth, savoring the touch against his tongue. The thought of tasting Reid
in his mouth filled him with a deep, euphoric satisfaction.

“Ahh...! Mmm...mm..!” Reid’s unrestrained moan echoed in the air, and Morgan felt the
warmth of his release flood his mouth.

***
After leaving the hotel, they drove straight to Stafford County for another stakeout.

The silence in the car, coupled with Morgan’s closeness, turned Reid into a bundle of nerves.
He couldn’t focus on the job, nor could he let his mind wander like he usually would.

Every stolen glance at his boyfriend brought a flush to his cheeks. He could still feel the
warmth of Morgan’s mouth between his thighs, still remember what had filled his boyfriend’s
mouth just a few hours ago in the hotel room.

Morgan wasn’t faring much better. His attention kept slipping as his mind replayed the sight
of Reid in the soft morning light, every inch of him breathtakingly vivid. The echoes of
Reid’s unrestrained moans filled his thoughts, making concentration impossible.

He was aware of the tension radiating off Reid too.

“Am I making you nervous?” Morgan finally asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Reid replied quickly, too quickly, glancing over at Morgan.

But the instant their eyes met, Reid froze, wide-eyed. His face turned red as he snapped his
gaze away, embarrassed.

Morgan wanted to tease, to break the tension with a lighthearted joke. But the words caught
in his throat. He was just as flustered, the intimacy of their shared memories still too vivid to
turn into humor.

Instead, he reached out and brushed Reid’s hair gently, offering a shy but tender smile. Reid’s
cheeks flushed as he returned the smile, both of them quietly enduring the relentless flutter of
butterflies in their chests.

***

From mid-July onward, the team was swamped with new cases. Morgan set up pole cameras
around Declan’s boarding school for surveillance.

In late August, one afternoon, Garcia came rushing toward Morgan and Reid as they returned
from lunch.

“I found him! I found him!” she whispered, her voice barely contained, and her excitement
unmistakable. Morgan and Reid followed her to the Tech Room.

“It’s him. I’m sure it’s him.”

She pulled up the footage, her words spilling out in rapid succession. “It’s blurry, and, you
know, he’s not exactly posing for the camera or anything, but you said he’d come, and it’s
been forever, and now he’s here and—”

“Garcia, Garcia, calm down. Let me take a look,” Morgan interrupted gently, leaning in
toward the screen.
There he was—Ian Doyle, sitting in his car.

Morgan’s pupils dilated slightly at the sight, his gaze hardening. For a brief moment, Reid
caught the flicker of searing vengeance in Morgan’s expression—the man who killed Emily
was finally in his sights.

But when Morgan spoke, his voice was steady. “Okay. It’s time to inform the team. I’m
calling Hotch.”

The weight of the moment pressed down on them. Reid and Garcia exchanged a glance, their
bodies tense. The time had finally come to confront Ian Doyle.
 Emily’s Return
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 1. It's September 2011. Reid
is 29, Morgan is 38.

Night had fallen, casting a shadow over the bustling activity of agents and local officers
gearing up to head to their assigned scenes. The SWAT team's van idled nearby, its arrival
signaling the seriousness of the operation. As Reid moved to join Rossi in the FBI car, a firm
hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Reid. Be careful,” Morgan said, his voice low.

“You too,” Reid replied.

They shared a quick embrace before Morgan pressed a fleeting kiss to Reid’s lips and turned
to stride toward the surveillance van, where JJ was waiting.

At Ian Doyle’s apartment, Morgan spoke into his shoulder mic, addressing the SWAT sniper
positioned on a nearby rooftop.

“Any movement?”

“Negative. No movement detected,” came the reply.

JJ’s phone beeped.

“Hey, Spence.”

“I can’t find Declan.”

Reid and Rossi had checked Declan’s boarding school earlier, but now they were en route to
his house.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” JJ asked, her voice tightening.

“The headmistress said he got sick and was sent home,” Reid explained.

“Okay, call for backup and head to the house,” JJ instructed, glancing at Morgan.

“We’re already here. The lights are off. I’ll call you back.”

“Wait—Reid!” JJ’s voice rose in alarm, but the line went dead.
Exhaling sharply, she turned to Morgan, “Will he be okay?”

“He’s with Rossi,” Morgan said, his tone steady despite the knot forming in his stomach.

“Yeah, but...” JJ’s voice faltered.

“Reid’s trained,” Morgan cut in firmly. “After Emily, we’ve been through many close-
quarters situations together. I trust him. He’ll handle it.”

Morgan’s voice carried a quiet conviction, but JJ could hear the undercurrent of worry
beneath it. In the dim light, his expression was hard to read, but his words felt as much a
reassurance to himself as to her.

***

Reid and Rossi entered the house where Declan lived. The interior was pitch-black, an
unsettling stillness filling the air.

“I’ll check the back. You take the hallway,” Rossi whispered. Reid nodded silently and
moved toward the shadowy corridor.

In one of the rooms, they discovered a woman’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor.

“Must be the nanny,” Reid said grimly, crouching to check her pulse at her neck. He shook
his head.

“Doyle’s got the boy.” Rossi murmured.

***

Morgan and JJ didn’t miss the brief moment when Doyle’s figure appeared in the window.

“He’s inside. We’re going in,” Morgan said into his mic.

With weapons drawn, they broke into Doyle’s apartment.

“He’s going to the roof! JJ, cover the back stairs!”

Morgan surged forward, emerging onto the rooftop just as Doyle’s silhouette disappeared
behind an air conditioning unit.

He advanced cautiously, scanning every shadow, his weapon raised and steady. He felt a faint
scuffle of movement to his left, but before he could react, Doyle tackled him from behind,
sending them both sprawling.

Morgan’s gun skittered across the rooftop. Doyle pressed the advantage, landing a solid blow
to Morgan’s side. Morgan shoved Doyle, and with a roar of fury, he drove his fist into
Doyle’s face.
Adrenaline coursed through him as he struck again, and again, each punch fueled by the
memory of Emily’s death—a loss that had left a gaping wound in the team.

Morgan snapped out and pulled back his fist abruptly, his chest heaving.

The next second Doyle drove a knee into Morgan’s stomach and made a break for it, heading
toward the edge of the roof.

Morgan lunged for his weapon, scooping it up and aiming it at Doyle just as a voice crackled
in his earpiece.

“I’ve got the shot, Agent,” the SWAT sniper reported.

“Don’t take the shot!” Morgan shouted. “Don’t shoot! I’ve got him!”

Doyle stopped at the edge of the rooftop. He turned slowly, his hands raised, a mocking grin
tugging at his lips.

“Want to kill me yourself, Agent?”

Morgan’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to take a steadying breath.

“Turn around and get on your knees. Now,” Morgan ordered.

***

The interrogation room was stark, the overhead lights casting shadows across the table
between Morgan and Doyle.

Morgan glared at the man in front of him. He was the man Morgan had been hunting ever
since he lost Emily. He was the man who ended Emily’s life.

For seven months, Morgan had searched for him. That mission had kept him going,
distracting him from the pain of missing Emily. He’d thought that catching the man would
bring him closure.

But looking at him now, Morgan felt an overwhelming realization. Emily was never coming
back. The initial rage had subsided, replaced by a crushing despair and disappointment.
Capturing this man wouldn’t bring Emily back.

Instead, Morgan’s focus had shifted to saving the boy. The boy he and Reid had watched over
for months.

“Doyle, where’s Declan?”

“Don’t play dumb. You already found him before I did.” Doyle sneered.

“You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with his abduction?”

“What?” Doyle’s expression shifted slightly, but he scoffed. “You’re telling me my son is
missing when I know he was safe a few hours ago?”

“Listen to me, you son of a bitch. I’m not playing games with you. Your son is missing.”

Morgan didn’t miss the signs of genuine concern on Doyle’s face. The rapid pulse in his
neck, the tightness in his forehead, the darting eyes.

“Why would anyone take Declan?” Doyle’s expression turned serious. “No one even knows
he exists.”

“Someone does. Somebody took him from his house. Now tell me who.”

“I don’t know.” Doyle shook his head in frustration. “I don’t!”

“Your son is missing. So think. Who hates you enough to take him?”

***

When Reid and Rossi returned to the BAU, Morgan was just emerging from the interrogation
room. Reid glanced at Morgan, seeing he was unharmed, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Noticing Reid, Morgan quickly approached and pulled him into a hug.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m fine.”

As they pulled apart, the shift was immediate, and they were back to being agents, discussing
the case in rapid succession.

“Doyle didn’t take Declan. I watched him up close. He showed real concern.”

“The unsubs cut the power to the house, but there were no signs of forced entry. Rossi and I
think the unsubs posed as FBI agents.”

“Spence, Morgan.” JJ’s voice called out. “Hotch’s calling everyone to the meeting room.”

***

“Everybody, take a seat,” Hotch instructed. JJ stood beside him, her anxiety evident in her
tight posture.

“Why?” Morgan frowned, remaining standing. “What's going on? Is everything okay?”

Hotch began, speaking quickly, his tone matter-of-fact but heavy.

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily lost a
lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her.”
Morgan’s eyes darted around, struggling to understand where Hotch was going with this. He
looked at the others—everyone appeared just as lost, except for JJ.

“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was
strictly need-to-know.”

When Hotch paused, the room fell silent. No one could process what they were hearing.

Hotch continued, his voice unwavering.

“She stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she
was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security.”

Hotch finished speaking, but the team remained stunned, still processing the information.

Finally, Garcia spoke, her voice trembling and tears streaking down her face.

“She’s alive?”

“But we buried her,” Reid muttered, his mind blank. The words didn’t seem to match his
emotions, which struggled to catch up.

Hotch glanced around, his expression hard. “As I said, I take full responsibility for the
decision. If anyone has issues, they should be directed toward me.”

“Any issues?” Morgan glared at Hotch in disbelief. “Yeah, I’ve got issues.”

Just then, the door opened, and someone stepped into the room. Hotch nodded at her, and the
team followed his gaze.

There she was—Emily. Nervous, but warm, standing in the doorway.

“Oh my God…” Garcia mumbled, tears flowing freely.

Reid sat frozen, his mouth slightly agape, staring at Emily as if he couldn’t process what he
was seeing.

Morgan’s reaction mirrored Reid’s. His brows furrowed deeply, as if trying to deny the reality
in front of him.

Without warning, Reid stormed out of the room. He didn’t glance at Emily as he passed her,
standing by the door.

Morgan followed. He shot Emily a quick, hard look as he passed, but her eyes were cast
down.

“Reid!” Morgan called after him, his voice desperate. “Reid!”

Reid didn’t stop. He walked quickly, almost running, until he reached the hallway. Seeing the
elevator still on the first floor, he veered toward the stairs and began descending.
Morgan followed closely.

“Reid, stop! Please.”

Reid wanted to escape the building. He wanted to be away from the BAU, away from it all.

Outside, he finally slowed and stopped.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know.”

Silence hung between them for a moment.

“Did you know?” Reid asked, his voice flat, not meeting Morgan’s gaze.

“What? No! Do you seriously think I did?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know who to trust anymore!”

Reid’s voice broke with frustration, his fists trembling.

“Reid, look at me. Look at me.”

Morgan stepped in front of him, taking his face in his hands and turning it toward him.

“You trust me, right?”

Reid met Morgan’s eyes.

“I do,” Reid admitted.

The silence stretched again, heavy with unspoken feelings.

“Let’s go back, Reid,” Morgan said softly.

“I’m not going back in there. I quit.”

“Reid…”

Reid scoffed, shaking his head.

“Do you remember the day at the hospital? We cried. We grieved. We buried a casket, for
God’s sake! Was all of that just a performance for someone else's script? What are we,
fucking puppets?”

Reid’s eyes burned with anger.

“I can’t do this shit anymore. How am I supposed to work with people who lie to my face?”
Reid let out a bitter laugh, sharp and hollow. “You know what? Maybe Ian Doyle is a special
agent. Maybe this whole case is just another charade!”
Morgan stared at Reid.

“I can’t work there. I quit,” Reid repeated, his voice more resolute.

“How about… Declan? We watched that kid for two months. Now he’s taken away.”

Reid flinched at the mention of Declan, his jaw tightening. Declan was still out there—his
life hanging in the balance. There was no way Reid could walk away—not yet.

“Reid… he needs us now. We have to find him.”

Reid nodded, biting his lip. “But how do I do that?” His voice was strained. “How do I work
with people I don’t trust?”

“Garcia needs us too.”

Reid’s gaze fell to the ground. Garcia’s tears were pure relief, her joy at Emily’s return
shining through. He admired—and envied—her gentle heart.

Morgan sighed deeply, stepping closer and pulling Reid into a tight embrace. Reid’s
shoulders shook with barely restrained emotion, but he kept himself together.

He couldn’t break down. Not now. Not yet.

Morgan pulled back slightly, taking Reid by the arms.

“Let’s put all of this aside for now. We’ll deal with it later. You can decide whether to quit
later. But right now, let’s focus on finding Declan.”

“I don’t know how to talk to Emily.”

“Talk to her normally. Like you did before. I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me too. But let’s do
it for that kid.”

“Okay.”

Reid’s voice was determined as he looked directly at Morgan.

“I’ll be right beside you,” Morgan said. Then, after a beat, he added, “And… honestly, I need
you too.”

“I’ll be right beside you, too.”

Morgan nodded. “Let’s go back.”

***

Back at the BAU, Emily was recounting everything she knew to the team.

“Emily, was there a man living at the house?”

Abruptly, Reid joined the conversation, his tone brisk and professional.
Emily almost flinched at his unnervingly normal tone but continued.

“Yes. My friend Tom Koehler. He was raising Declan as his own. He’s currently on
assignment overseas.”

The team dove into discussing the case, though Rossi quietly observed their interactions,
concern etched on his face.

“The nanny took him home last night because he was sick,” Reid informed Emily.

“Food poisoning,” Hotch murmured.

“Yeah,” Reid nodded, ”Whoever did this got to him on campus. They knew they only had
one chance.”

Garcia swiftly pulled up security footage from Declan’s boarding school, identifying Chloe
Donaghy—Declan’s biological mother. She harbored a deep grudge against Doyle for forcing
her to carry the pregnancy to term.

The team learned that Chloe, an international prostitution ring leader with virtually limitless
resources, was planning to flee the country via private jet—with Declan.

As the team hit an impasse, racing against time, Reid broke the silence.

“I think we should give her what she wants.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened. “What are you suggesting, Reid?”

“Release Ian Doyle in exchange for Declan.”

“No!” Emily’s voice rose, “We are not letting him out of here, Reid!”

“Emily, I will chain myself to him if I have to,” Reid countered.

“He’ll find a way to escape,” she snapped.

Reid pressed on, “We’re running out of time. If she gets on that plane, there’s a good chance
Declan will die. This is the only move we have.”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Hotch. Faced with no other options, he gave a
reluctant nod.

***

“Chloe Donaghy, this is the FBI. We know you have Declan.”

Hotch’s voice rang out over the speakerphone at the private airfield.

FBI and SWAT vans surrounded the jet, their presence an unspoken warning.
“To ensure his safety, we’re prepared to negotiate,” Hotch continued. “We’ll give you Ian
Doyle in exchange for the boy.”

Moments later, Chloe emerged, gripping Declan tightly and demanding they bring Ian Doyle
forward.

Reid and Emily escorted Doyle toward her, their movements cautious but deliberate. As
Doyle drew close, Chloe’s demeanor suddenly shifted.

“Gun!” Morgan’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Chloe pulled her weapon, firing at Doyle a split second before Reid’s shot took her down.

Emily rushed forward, scooping Declan into her arms. Her heart pounded as she held him
close, but he was safe.

***

When they returned to the BAU, Hotch instructed JJ and Morgan to stay behind to begin
filing the initial reports. Reid didn’t speak to anyone. He quickly packed his things and left
the building without a word.

Before heading to his office, Morgan stopped by the tech room to check on Garcia.

“Hey, baby girl. You okay?”

Garcia turned, her expression softening at the sight of him. “Oh, Derek. The real question is,
are you okay?”

She wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Morgan admitted with a sigh.

“How’s boy wonder?”

Morgan shook his head. “Not good.”

Garcia’s eyes welled up. “Derek. To tell you the truth, I feel...happy. I'm just simply happy
that Emily’s back. And I feel guilty for feeling happy because I know you and Reid are
hurting. I saw him on his way out. He caught me talking to Emily, and... I saw his face.
He’s... he's so hurt.”

“Hey, baby girl, listen to me.” Morgan gently cupped her face, brushing away a tear with his
thumb.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for being you. Whatever you’re feeling comes from your kind heart,
and that’s who you are. Reid and I love you for that. We need you to be you.”

Garcia sniffled and nodded, wiping her tears.

“Are you going to see him?”

“Yeah, once I finish these reports.”

“Tell him I love him.”

“I will.”
 Fishing
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 1. It's September 2011. Reid
is 29, Morgan is 38.

When Reid opened the door, his exhaustion was written all over his face, just as Morgan had
expected. Without a word, Reid stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Morgan’s
bag slipped from his shoulder, landing on the floor with a dull thud. He pulled Reid close,
holding him tightly. They stood there in silence, finding solace in each other’s embrace.

What a day...

Morgan exhaled deeply, his breath warm against Reid’s shoulder. The weight of the last 24
hours pressed down on him. They had both pushed their emotions aside and focused on the
case, stretching themselves to the breaking point.

They couldn’t find the words. Instead, they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, the embrace
being a quiet refuge in the chaos.

***

The next morning, Reid leaned against the doorway to the living room, his expression
unreadable. “I’m not going in today,” he said.

Morgan nodded, respecting his need for space. “Alright,” he replied softly.

As he left the apartment, he turned back to kiss Reid on the forehead. “I’ll be back after
work.”

***

Morgan sighed as the elevator doors opened to his floor, squaring his shoulders before
stepping out.

At least Emily wasn’t here. Ian Doyle’s case had been a rare exception, and she wasn’t
allowed to engage in other tasks at the BAU.

The team spent the entire day buried in reports on Doyle’s case. Morgan spoke with his
teammates when necessary, but the rift within the team was evident.

Reid didn’t go to work the next day, either.

While shaving, Morgan caught a sight of Reid through the mirror, still curled up beneath the
covers.

He didn’t push. Instead, he walked over before leaving, kissed the top of Reid’s head, and
whispered, “See you later.”

Once Morgan left, Reid stayed in bed a while longer before reluctantly getting up. The scent
of breakfast drew him to the kitchen. On the table, there was a plate of scrambled eggs, crispy
bacon, and a bagel slathered with cream cheese.

Next to the plate was a note, written in Morgan’s neat handwriting:

Reid,
I love you.
Have a good day.
Derek

Reid sank into his chair, his chest tightening with a bittersweet ache. He already missed
Morgan.

Determined to push thoughts of Emily and work out of his mind, he focused instead on his
boyfriend. He wanted to fill his mind with Morgan.

He played Beethoven’s Ninth on the record player, skipping straight to the third movement,
letting the delicate strains fill the room. Almost immediately, Reid found himself in the forest
with Morgan, their fingers intertwined.

When the third movement was over, Reid moved to the bed, where Morgan’s T-shirt and
sweatpants lay discarded from the morning rush. He picked them up, burying his face in the
fabric to inhale Morgan’s familiar scent.

Reid took off his pajamas and slipped into Morgan’s clothes, wrapping himself in the comfort
they brought.

***

Reid was engrossed in his book, the fourth round of the third movement playing softly in the
background, when the doorbell rang. He set the book down carefully and approached the
door with caution.

“Rossi?”

“Hello, kiddo,” Rossi greeted with a warm smile.

“Rossi, what are you...?”

“I’m sorry I’m not Morgan, but I’m here to whisk you away on a date.”

“A date?” Reid repeated, narrowing his eyes at the older man. “Is this your lunch break?”
“I took a half-day. I’m allergic to reports.”

“Who isn’t?” Reid muttered, letting a scoff slip.

“Beethoven, huh?” he said, stepping inside uninvited, as was his style.

Reid closed the door, watching as Rossi gravitated to the bookshelf, fingers skimming the
spines of the worn classics.

“So?” Rossi asked, still scanning the titles. “Are you getting ready?”

“A date with David Rossi?” Reid deadpanned. “I don’t know…”

Rossi glanced back, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you being a bit of a fan. I might not
have an eidetic memory, but I distinctly remember your enthusiasm the first time we met.”

Reid’s face flushed faintly as he remembered the excitement of being introduced to ‘the’
David Rossi for the first time.

“The evidence remains.” Rossi smirked, gesturing to one section on the bookshelf.

“Every agent in the FBI has your books.”

“Maybe,” Rossi admitted, grinning. “But I don’t see every agent wearing their boyfriend’s
oversized sweatpants to greet me at the door.”

Rossi’s gaze swept over Reid, taking in the messy hair, the unshaven face, and the thick
browline glasses framing his eyes. The oversized T-shirt and loose sweatpants hung on his
slender frame, clearly not his own size.

“They’re comfortable,” he said simply.

“I’m sure they are,” Rossi replied, his chuckle warm and teasing.

“Do I have to change?”

“Nah, you’re fine.”

Reid looked at Rossi suspiciously.

“Where are we going?”

“Fishing.”

***

Sure enough, Rossi’s Opel GT was packed with fishing gear and a couple of buckets.
“I don’t know how to fish,” Reid murmured as they made their way toward the Shenandoah
River, two hours outside of D.C.

“You just sit and wait for the fish,” Rossi said, his voice casual. “Easy.”

“Are you gonna talk about Emily?”

“You don’t want me to?”

Reid shook his head.

“Then I won’t.”

***

The Shenandoah River was peaceful, the water flowing gently between clusters of tall trees
lining the banks. Only a few others were fishing nearby. Reid and Rossi sat on the old pier,
setting up their gear in companionable silence.

As promised, Rossi didn’t bring up Emily. He patiently showed Reid how to cast the line,
correcting his grip and demonstrating the smooth arc needed to send the baited hook flying
into the water. Reid was hesitant at first, fumbling with the reel and casting awkwardly.
Slowly, the rhythm of it all started to make sense. With each cast, Reid’s movements grew
smoother, a smile forming as he watched the line ripple across the water’s surface.

“See? It’s easy,” Rossi said, lounging back with his own rod in hand.

It wasn’t long before Reid’s line jerked suddenly.

“I think I caught something.”

“Reel it in, kid. Nice and steady.”

Reid worked the reel, the line tightening with resistance, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Finally, a small fish broke the surface, wriggling and shimmering in the sunlight. Reid let out
a breath of amazement.

“You actually did it,” Rossi said with a grin. “Now, get it off the hook.”

Reid hesitated, holding the fish awkwardly as it flailed in his hands. The slippery scales made
his grip falter, and he flinched when the fish thrashed harder, splattering a bit of water on his
face.

“Agh!” Reid exclaimed, nearly dropping it.

Rossi laughed. “Relax, kid! It’s not gonna bite you.”

“It’s moving too much,” Reid muttered, his voice edged with both panic and fascination.
When Reid finally managed to free the fish, it slipped back into the water with a splash,
leaving him wide-eyed and slightly out of breath.

Rossi chuckled. “Not bad for a first-timer.”

As the evening settled into a comfortable stillness again, Reid broke the silence.

“Did you know about Emily?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Rossi’s gaze shifted toward him, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t wanna talk about
it.”

“Just... curious.”

“I didn’t know,” Rossi said with a heavy sigh. “I was as surprised as you were.”

“Doesn’t it upset you? I mean... I saw you cry at the hospital. I’d never seen you cry like
that.”

Reid remembered seeing Rossi in the hospital, crying his eyes out as he held Garcia.

“Yeah, I was devastated,” Rossi admitted, “That’s why I didn’t notice the lies. But...”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not upset. Obviously, it was for Emily’s safety. They didn’t have a choice.”

Reid’s eyes flashed with frustration, his jaw tightening. “Didn’t they? Really?”

Rossi’s gaze was warm and steady as he gently tapped Reid’s shoulder. There was no attempt
to persuade or lecture—just the comfort of silent understanding.

***

Morgan leaned casually against the door to Reid’s apartment, arms crossed, waiting.

As Reid approached, Morgan’s brows lifted.

“Is that... my clothes?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Reid replied without a shred of guilt, his tone almost daring Morgan to comment further.

Morgan’s eyes roamed over Reid, who stood in oversized clothes speckled with water stains.
His hair was a chaotic mess and his glasses were streaked with smudges. A faint shadow of
stubble added to his disheveled look, and the unmistakable smell of fish completed the
picture.

Morgan couldn’t hold it in. He burst out laughing.

“You look like an unemployed geek,” Morgan said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thanks for that,” Reid replied dryly, scratching his head as he unlocked the door.

Morgan followed him inside, still chuckling. The moment the door closed, he pulled Reid
into a warm embrace.

“Where have you been? You smell like fish.”

“Fishing with Rossi.”

“Oh, yeah? Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan held him close, ignoring the fishy smell, letting the silence settle between them for a
moment.

“Morgan,” Reid murmured softly. “I missed you today.”

Morgan’s grip tightened just slightly, his voice just as gentle. “I missed you, too.”

“Maybe I’ll go to work tomorrow.”

Morgan smiled, “Let’s go together then.”

He cupped Reid's face gently, his touch warm and reassuring, before leaning in for a kiss—
soft, but deep.

“Can you take a shower now?” Morgan asked, his grin unable to be suppressed.
 Senate Hearing
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 1. It's September 2011. Reid
is 29, Morgan is 38.

Morgan and Reid walked into the office hand in hand, their fingers laced together with an
ease that spoke of comfort rather than defiance. The glances from their coworkers bounced
off them, unnoticed or unimportant.

As they reached the bullpen, Morgan leaned in and kissed Reid on the temple, murmuring
something soft before turning toward his office. But he stopped mid-step, his expression
tightening as he caught sight of Strauss in deep conversation with Hotch inside his office.

“Do you know what that’s about?” Morgan asked Rossi, who was standing nearby, observing
the scene with a frown.

Rossi shook his head. “Nope. But it doesn't look good.”

Before Morgan could respond, JJ walked in, her gaze immediately landing on Reid. She
hesitated for a moment, then approached him.

“Spence… hey. How are you?”

“Good.” Reid’s response was brisk, his eyes fixed on the papers in his hands. The distant tone
was unmistakable. She’d left voicemails, sent texts—none of which he’d returned.

JJ exhaled slowly, searching for the right words. “Spence, I just—”

“Everyone in the conference room. Now.”

Hotch’s commanding voice interrupted, echoing across the bullpen. He stood by the railing
above, his expression grim.

***

Strauss exhaled heavily, her gaze sweeping across the gathered team.

“The state senate committee has reviewed your reports on the Ian Doyle case,” she began.
“During that review, suspicions of misconduct were raised.”

“What misconduct?” Reid interjected sharply.

Strauss’s expression tightened. “Allegations of a vendetta and legal breaches.”

Morgan let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face.

Strauss pressed on. “You are all suspended, effective immediately. You’ll need to leave the
premises and are prohibited from performing any official duties until further notice. You’ll be
called to testify before the senate committee next week.”

“What?” JJ’s voice was sharp with disbelief, her brows knitting together.

“These allegations are serious,” Hotch said grimly. “The OPR has already opened an
investigation into our actions during the case. Until this is resolved, we’re sidelined.”

“Unbelievable,” Morgan muttered under his breath.

Hotch added, “I’m suspended as well. There’s nothing I can do right now.”

The room fell silent, the gravity of his words settling over the team.

Strauss cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “The investigative hearing will be scheduled
for sometime next week. I’ll notify you when the date is confirmed. For now, I need you all
to go home.”

The team exchanged uncertain glances.

They had no choice but to comply.

***

Reid’s mind, which had briefly lifted after fishing with Rossi, was once again in turmoil.

Back at his apartment, he paced the room, his anger boiling over as he moved back and forth.
“Who the hell is this state senator?”

“That would be Senator William Cramer,” Morgan replied calmly from the couch.

“Yeah, I know that. I know the damn name! I know everything about him!” Reid snapped.

“Born June 15, 1964, in Houston, Texas, BA in Political Science from Stanford, graduated in
1986, JD from Harvard Law in 1989—.

“Reid...”

“Private practice lawyer until 1997, then a congressman until 2003, and now a senator since
—”

“Reid, stop.”

“My question is, don’t they have anything more important to do?!” Reid’s voice was rising
again. “We’re out here every damn day with our lives on the line. What the fuck is wrong
with—”
“Reid, stop swearing,” Morgan said, slightly exasperated.

“Even Hotch is suspended! He’s spent his entire career saving people, sacrificing everything.
He lost his family for this job. And yet, he’s always the one blamed—for everything! Even
I’ve blamed him.” He shook his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Reid. You need to calm down.”

“I can’t.”

Reid was still angry at Hotch and JJ, but he took great pride in his team.

They had saved Declan. They’d taken down two international criminals. And It wasn’t just
this case. This team had always given their all—risking their lives to save others and fight
against evil.

Reid’s frustration had been building. It felt like the team was being dragged into the political
games and ambitions circling the state senate committee.

***

A few days later, each member of the BAU received a call from Strauss, officially notifying
them that they had been summoned for a Senate Investigative Hearing against the unit.

The hearing was scheduled for the following Friday at 9 a.m., in the Senate Judiciary
Committee Room at the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C.

Along with the summons, they were asked if they wanted to request immediate reinstatement
to the unit.

Everyone submitted the request—except Reid. Given his reaction to Emily’s return, it didn’t
come as a surprise to Hotch.

Though he kept it to himself, there was another reason Reid hadn’t requested reinstatement.

He was certain one of the central accusations would involve the team’s decision to release Ian
Doyle. Reid had already done his homework on Senator Cramer. As a staunch advocate for
national defense policy and accountability in federal agencies, there was no way Cramer
would overlook this. Reid was prepared to take full responsibility for releasing Doyle—and
to face the consequences alone.

***

Senator Cramer narrowed his eyes at the young man in the patterned vest, his sleeves
casually rolled up.

Does he have no sense of decorum?

Cramer thought, irritation creeping through him. A suit should be proper etiquette.

As Cramer made his opening statement, summarizing the issues and goals of the hearing, the
BAU members sat side by side, facing the eight members of the state senate committee.

Cramer’s gaze drifted once more to the insolent young agent. While the others sat upright,
hands neatly clasped on the table, this agent lounged in his chair, one leg crossed, meeting
Cramer’s glare with an air of detachment and cold defiance.

Testimonies were presented one by one. After Agent Jennifer Jareau, Agent Derek Morgan
entered the committee room with a very stern expression.

Morgan’s anger radiated with an almost regal intensity as he sat tall and unyielding before the
committee. Dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit, he exuded the demeanor of someone
engaging in an equal business negotiation.

“You spent seven months looking for Ian Doyle,” Cramer began, “How often do you spend
months on a case, Agent?”

“It required a lot of detail,” Morgan replied firmly. “I had to be sure we caught him
successfully.”

Cramer’s tone turned accusatory. “For your vendetta.”

“For justice,” Morgan’s voice grew stronger.

“You don’t believe in the system.”

“Ian Doyle wasn’t at the top of anyone’s list, Senator.”

“Except yours.”

Cramer’s gaze flicked to his documents as he flipped through the pages, checking the
timeline.

“You watched Declan for two months.”

“I knew if I could find him, it was only a matter of time before Doyle did.”

“Around-the-clock surveillance requires constant presence,” Cramer pointed out.

“When I wasn’t in the field, I was there.”

“And when you were on a case?”

“I set up pole cameras for surveillance.”

“Under what authority, Agent?”

“Senator, I needed to protect this child because I knew Doyle would find him eventually.”
***

Next was the insolent young agent who had been rubbing Cramer the wrong way since the
start of the hearing.

Dr. Spencer Reid entered the committee room and plopped into the chair with a thud, tilting
his head as he fixed the eight committee members with a defiant gaze.

“Agent Reid, please stand and raise your right hand,” Cramer ordered sharply.

“Do you affirm that the testimony you are about to give before this committee will be the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” Reid replied clearly, never breaking eye contact.

“You may sit.”

“Thank you. Sir.” He added the last word with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“How long have you worked in the unit?”

“6 years, 10 months, and 25 days.”

“You helped Agent Morgan find Declan Doyle, correct?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did Agent Morgan ever confide in you about his personal grudge toward Ian Doyle?”

“No.”

“You and Agent Morgan are romantic partners, correct?”

Reid scoffed. “Are you interested in my sexuality, sir?”

Cramer’s face twitched with irritation at the provocation.

“You're the one who suggested Ian Doyle be released.”

“I am.”

“And you're the only agent who has not requested reinstatement to the unit.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Was the decision to release Ian Doyle a personal one?”

Cramer’s gaze bore down on Reid, but he didn’t flinch. Reid began in a dignified tone.

“A young boy's life was at stake. I ran the probability of his survival, and it wasn’t good.”
Reid’s voice carried a suppressed heat, his words quickening as he continued.

“If you want to punish me for taking a risk, then I encourage you to do that, but do not put
the rest of my team on trial for something that I suggested.”

“Calm down, Agent!” Cramer snapped, pointing a finger at Reid.

Reid leaned into the microphone, his gaze never leaving Cramer.

“This is calm, and it’s ‘Doctor.’”

“The United States government is not in the business of trading captives.”

“New York City, July 2010, referred to as the spy swap. Igor Semyonov, one of the captured
Russian agents, became a key figure in...”

“That's enough!”

“You can't just change the rules, sir,” Reid said, leaning back in his chair.

***

The Senate hearing was adjourned, and the team returned to the BAU. They had done
everything they could, now all they could do was wait for the committee’s conclusion.

Reid left the office without waiting for Strauss to deliver the results. He felt Emily’s gaze on
him as he passed, but he wasn’t ready to face her yet.

Morgan spotted Emily and Rossi talking near her photo on the memorial wall. Garcia and JJ
joined them, laughing as they removed the photo.

Morgan’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But then
Hotch’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Morgan.”

Morgan turned to face Hotch.

“I know what you’ve been through. I understand your anger, but I hope you understand this
isn’t about you or me. This was about saving Emily.”

Morgan nodded, his face serious. “I know.”

Before they could continue their conversation, Strauss walked in, calling the team into the
meeting room.

“The committee made it clear they won’t support a rogue team. However—”

Strauss softened her gaze and sighed.

“Agent Prentiss convinced them that you’re not that.”

Garcia let out a relieved gasp, and JJ gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“They’ll be watching you closely. So, I suggest you follow their rules.” Strauss smiled
slightly at the team.

“So, we’re okay?” Garcia whispered.

“Suspension is lifted for everyone,” Strauss confirmed. Garcia and JJ exchanged relieved
smiles.

Morgan and Rossi both exhaled deeply.

“Agent Prentiss,” Strauss turned to Emily. “There may be more paperwork, given your
situation, but the team is lucky to have you, if you’re interested.”

Startled by the offer, Emily paused for a moment. Then, she answered, “I’m in.”

Garcia smiled widely and hugged Emily, while Rossi and Hotch both gave her warm smiles.

Emily’s gaze met Morgan’s, and her heart tightened at the warmth she saw in his eyes.

“Morgan.”

“Emily... we need to talk.” Morgan’s voice was soft, but firm.

“Of course.”
 Reconciliation
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 2.

Emily sat on the sofa in Morgan’s house, her posture tense despite the comfort of her
surroundings. Morgan handed her a cup of coffee and perched on the edge of the coffee table,
his gaze steady as he faced her.

“Are you angry at me?” Emily’s voice was hesitant, her eyes searching Morgan’s face.

“Come on, now. How can I be? You’re here.” Morgan’s expression softened, his warmth
unmistakable.

Emily’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but her voice remained uncertain. “Because I know what
you went through....You carried my coffin.”

“Yeah, I sure did,” Morgan admitted, his tone reflective. Then, with a scoff, he added, “What
was in that thing, anyway?”

Emily’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I don’t know.”

Morgan’s expression turned serious. “Prentiss... Are you physically okay? No permanent
damage from the injury?”

His words brought a flicker of tension to his face as memories of Emily’s battered and barely
breathing form surfaced unbidden. He forced himself to stay present, his body taut.

“No,” Emily assured him. “I’m fine.”

Morgan nodded, relief easing the knot in his stomach.

Emily’s gaze grew distant, “I remember seeing you. Before I... you know...”

“Died?” Morgan’s voice carried a trace of teasing.

“Yeah.” Emily laughed softly.

“I really thought I was dying, Derek.”

Morgan’s hand moved instinctively to cover hers.

“And I remember thinking...” Emily’s voice faltered before she continued, “I was glad it was
your face I saw last before dying, not Doyle’s.”
Morgan let out a warm scoff, though his grip on her hand tightened slightly.

“Do you remember I told you to squeeze my hand?” he asked.

Emily frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I don’t remember.”

Morgan stared at Emily’s hand and his face twitched, a shadow of anguish crossing his
features as the memory hit him like a wave.

“Squeeze my hand, Prentiss. Let me feel it.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Emily complied, her fingers wrapping around his
with deliberate pressure. As soon as he felt the firmness of her grip, tears welled in his eyes.
Emily’s hand remained steady in his, her own eyes shimmering with tears.

Morgan nodded repeatedly, as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence. Silent tears
streaked down his cheeks, mirrored by Emily’s.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“No problem.”

Their hands slipped apart, only to be replaced by a tight embrace that spoke volumes. They
clung to each other, the weight of unspoken emotions anchoring them in the moment.

“Welcome back, partner,” Morgan murmured.

Emily’s arms tightened around him, her silent reply resonating in their shared embrace.

***

Garcia’s lively voice echoed down the hallway, growing louder as she walked alongside
Rossi toward the meeting room.

“Look, master of all things Italian, I am having a Fellini festival at my house this weekend
and I must serve the beautiful food of his country,” she said as she took her seat at the round
table. Everyone else was already seated.

“Maybe you should show a Disney film and stick with burgers,” Rossi murmured, his voice
dripping with dry humor.

Morgan jumped in, “You know, Rossi, you could always give Penelope a cooking lesson.”

Rossi turned to Morgan with a long, hard stare, but the damage was done.

Garcia’s face lit up as she gasped. “Oh my gosh, that would be amazing! That would be like
Iron Chef meets the BAU. And we could do it at your house!”
Rossi rolled his eyes while Morgan chuckled.

As Garcia began briefing the team on the case, Morgan’s gaze wandered around the round
table. Everyone was present: Emily, JJ, Reid, Rossi, Garcia, and Hotch. The atmosphere felt
warm and almost perfect—almost. There was one young agent whose expression remained
clouded with irritation.

After the meeting, Hotch stopped Rossi on his way out.

“How’s Reid?”

Rossi shrugged. “He’s angry and frustrated.”

“Expected,” Hotch nodded.

Rossi studied Hotch for a moment before asking, “So, are you going to get psychological
counseling for the team or handle it internally?”

“No...” Hotch replied, casting Rossi a brief glance. “I was thinking that if we all just got
together... like maybe a cooking lesson at your—”

“Oh, no. Not you too,” Rossi interrupted.

“It could boost morale,” Hotch said, his voice laced with amusement.

“Is this an order?” Rossi raised an eyebrow.

“No, it’s just a...” Hotch paused, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, “...a very
tempered suggestion.” He couldn’t stifle a smile.

“Tempered suggestion,” Rossi repeated with a shake of his head before walking away,
leaving Hotch smirking.

***

JJ and Reid were sent to the abduction sites for the new case. The entire time, JJ could sense
the tension radiating from Reid, leaving her increasingly uncomfortable.

“So, Beth got off the bus here and headed northwest toward class,” Reid observed, his tone
clinical.

“It’s amazing no one witnessed her abduction,” JJ said, shaking her head.

“Emily was buried six feet under and wound up in Paris, so I guess anything’s possible,
right?” Reid’s sarcasm was sharp and biting. JJ pressed her lips together.

“So, that’s what this is about.”

“Maybe our unsub’s a little bit like Bundy,” Reid muttered, completely ignoring JJ’s
comment.

“He feigns injury in order to get her to help him,” he continued, his voice distant, never
meeting JJ’s eyes.

“Look, Spence, if you want to talk about this...”

“Whatever his ruse was, the unsub used it to get her into his vehicle. Hopefully the disposal
site will tell us more,” Reid said as he turned and started walking back.

***

Reid’s attitude toward JJ remained cold and distant the entire day.

JJ’s concern was quickly turning into anger. She wanted to talk things through, the way
friends should. She wanted to explain her side, to understand his, to apologize for hurting
him. But Reid wasn’t giving her the chance. Instead of addressing the issue, he was shutting
her out and acting out in frustration.

Back at the BAU, JJ’s patience finally snapped. She confronted him, her voice firm.

“Spence. Look, we gotta talk about this.”

“What do you wanna talk about?” Reid muttered, his hands busy with paperwork, refusing to
meet her eyes.

“I get it, okay? You’re disappointed with the way we handled Emily.”

“Listen, I have a lot going on, all right?” Reid said sharply, trying to walk away.

But JJ didn’t back down. “You know what I think it is?”

“What?” Reid finally turned to face her, his tone challenging.

Frustrated, JJ deliberately pushed, “You’re mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-
expressions at the hospital, and you weren’t able to detect our deception.”

Reid’s irritation was plain, his composure slipping.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to
manage my perceptions is because I trusted you!”

His voice rose, sharp and cutting, drawing startled looks from the team members nearby.

Reid’s voice cracked with emotion. “I went to your house so many times and cried over
losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth!”
“I couldn’t,” JJ said, her voice defiant as she glared at him.

“You couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?” Reid glared back.

“No, I couldn’t.” She insisted.

Reid turned away from her, his shoulders rigid.

“Spence! I’m sorry!” JJ called after him, her tone desperate.

“It’s too late, all right?” Reid threw over his shoulder as he walked away.

***

Morgan and Emily combed through the disposal sites together, their footsteps crunching
against the dry ground.

“So, our unsub hunts and travels through these areas unnoticed, blending in with his
surroundings,” Emily said, scanning the area.

Morgan nodded. “This guy’s either homeless or looks the part. He knows how to disappear
when he needs to.”

They continued their search, exchanging theories and observations.

At one point, Emily caught Morgan watching her.

“What?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

Morgan shook his head. “I never thought I’d be back in the field with you again. Feels
surreal, you know? But also...feels so right.”

Emily smiled. “I know what you mean.”

Morgan smiled back.

“Hey, Morgan.”

“Hmm?”

Emily sighed, “What do I do about Reid?”

“Just... give him some time. He'll be fine.”

***

“Can you sit down?”

Reid’s heart skipped a beat at the tone of Morgan’s voice. Calm and gentle, yet threaded with
an undeniable authority that left no room for resistance.

Reid sat on the chair across from Morgan without a word.

“Reid.”

Morgan exhaled quietly.

Reid braced himself, his hands fidgeting nervously. Clooney, sensing his unease, padded over
and curled up at his feet, offering silent comfort.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Morgan began, his voice low and even. “But I have to
say it. I think you’re acting immature.”

Reid blinked a few times, his throat suddenly dry.

“I know you’re especially angry at JJ, because you two are so close. But Reid...”

There was a brief pause.

“I think it was very, very difficult for her.”

Reid’s gaze flicked up to Morgan, his eyes widening slightly.

“While you were drowning in grief, JJ was drowning in guilt.”

The words hit Reid like a wave, breaking through his defenses. His vision blurred as tears
welled up.

“Imagine what she must have felt, sitting beside you while you cried,” Morgan said gently.

Images of those moments flooded Reid’s mind. Reid remembered the times he had cried at
her house. JJ had cried too, though never aloud. Her large eyes would redden, filling with
tears as she silently wept, her lips pressed tightly together. The moment a tear escaped, she
would quickly wipe it away with her hand.

“Let it go, Reid,” Morgan urged softly, his tone like a balm.

After a few moments, Reid gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Morgan stood and walked over to him.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asked, opening his arms.

Reid shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Spencer?” Morgan crouched, gently cupping Reid’s face. “What’s still bothering you?”

Reid wet his lips, hesitating before meeting Morgan’s eyes. “Did I disappoint you?”
“You didn’t.”

Reid looked down, his voice barely audible. “I know you don’t like me when I’m...
immature.”

Morgan raised a brow. “Hm? I never said that.”

“I don’t like myself,” Reid admitted quietly.

A warm grin spread across Morgan’s face. “Well, I like immature Spencer.”

Reid looked up, confused.

“I like all the different versions of Spencer.”

“Different versions?” Reid frowned.

Morgan took Reid’s hands, pulling him to his feet before wrapping his arms around his waist.
“Yeah. There’s shy Spencer—which, by the way, is my favorite.” He tilted his head, his gaze
soft and affectionate. “Then there’s sassy Spencer, super genius Spencer, and rambling
Spencer.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Reid’s cheek, making him flush.

“Sulky Spencer. Angry Spencer—though, to be honest, you terrify me when you give me the
silent treatment.”

Reid let out a laugh.

“And geek Spencer—when you wear those browline glasses.” Morgan chuckled. “Oh, and
smelly Spencer after fishing. That’s a new one.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Reid said, laughing again.

Morgan grinned, his voice growing softer. “And sexy Spencer—the one who makes me lose
my mind.”

Reid’s cheeks turned pink under Morgan’s gaze.

Morgan’s smile faded into something more thoughtful.

“There’s also Spencer who comforts me, spoils me, protects me...” Morgan’s voice faltered,
his expression tender. “I could go on forever.”

He locked eyes with Reid, his gaze steady and full of warmth. “I adore all of you, Spencer.
Every version of you.”

The teasing tone faded, replaced by something raw and unguarded. Morgan’s fingertips
brushed against Reid’s cheek.

Reid’s heart raced, his breath hitching as Morgan’s gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips.
Morgan leaned in slowly, giving Reid a moment to pull away—but he didn’t. Reid closed his
eyes as their lips met.

The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened. Morgan’s hands
tangled in Reid’s hair, drawing him closer, grounding him in the moment as they lost
themselves in each other.

***

The next day, Reid’s expression was more relaxed, his features softened. His soft white shirt
with blue plaid matched his gentler demeanor.

Although he didn’t get a chance to talk to JJ that day, he finally found himself sitting one-on-
one with Emily on the jet.

“Hey,” Emily said gently, taking the seat across from him.

Reid offered a faint smile but kept his gaze down, still avoiding direct eye contact.

“Are you still getting headaches?” Emily asked.

Reid blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a soft laugh.

“What?” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Emily, you died. And you are still worried about my headaches?”

Despite the sarcasm in his words, Reid’s tone was warm and teasing.

Emily grinned. “You’re my baby brother. I’d worry about you even from heaven.”

Reid finally let his gaze meet hers, smiling shyly.

Emily shook her head, “Honestly, there wasn’t a single day I didn’t worry about you while I
was gone.”

Reid’s smile wavered, and his eyes grew misty.

“Look, Spencer... I'm sorry we didn't tell you what really happened,” Emily said, her voice
low and earnest.

Reid fidgeted slightly in his seat.

“Please believe me. We had no choice.”

Reid nodded slowly.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Reid replied quietly.

Emily exhaled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

“Well,” she said with a faint smile, attempting to lift the mood, “I’m going to Rossi’s
tomorrow night. I want to see if he really can cook. Are you coming?”

“I don’t know. I’m... not sure I’m up for it,” Reid answered, his response vague. He still
wasn’t in the mood for social occasions.

***

Rossi stood behind the large kitchen counter, proudly displaying all the ingredients laid out
for his curious guests.

“Cooking is the most sensual art form,” he said, gesturing toward the ingredients. “And these
are my paints.”

“So your hands must be the brushes,” Garcia remarked, playing the role of a good student.

“Don’t interrupt,” Rossi said sternly, though JJ and Emily both scoffed in amusement.

“In a pot of boiling water, we cook our spaghetti until it’s al dente—firm to the tooth.”

Rossi passed around strands of pasta for everyone to sample.

“Here you go. Everyone, take a bite.”

They each tasted the pasta, carefully assessing its texture.

“Now,” Rossi continued, “in a large pan, we fry up our pancetta. Keep a sharp eye out for the
edges to get nice and crisp.”

“But be careful not to burn the onions,” Hotch added, offering a helpful tip.

“Bravo, Aaron!” Rossi acknowledged.

Just then, the doorbell rang. The group exchanged hopeful glances, wondering if it was Reid.

“I’ll get it,” Morgan volunteered.

He opened the door, a soft smile spreading across his face as Reid stepped inside. “Hey,”
Morgan greeted him warmly, pulling him into a tight hug, his lips gently pressing against
Reid's temple in a soft, affectionate kiss.
“It’s already started.”

“I know.”

They could hear Rossi’s animated voice coming from the kitchen.

“You see, it’s all about timing and rhythm. And if you’re not feeling it, well... just order a
pizza.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Reid said, offering an apologetic smile to the gathering.

“Yeah, and this is exactly why I cook alone,” Rossi complained, his tone playful.

Reid moved to stand next to JJ, offering her a shy smile. She smiled back, wrapping her arm
around him.

“So, when do we get to drink the wine?” Emily asked.

“Almost there. You eat what you cook, I’ll supervise. But we’re doing this together, like a
family.”

“Okay, now?” JJ asked, raising her wine glass, seeking permission.

“Now.” Rossi finally nodded, and the group clinked their glasses together.

After the cooking, Emily, JJ, Reid, and Morgan sat together, enjoying the meal they’d
prepared.

“We even released a balloon,” Reid said.

Morgan shot him a warning look, but it was too late.

“Released a balloon?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Morgan was so desperate.” Reid explained.

“What... Reid! I thought it would help you,” Morgan protested.

JJ stifled a smile, her lips twitching.

Reid ignored Morgan and added, “He bought a balloon and asked me to join him.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes at Reid.

Emily glanced down, her expression tightening as she fought to suppress a laugh. She
couldn't afford to find it funny—not after what she'd put them through.

“It’s okay, Prentiss, you can laugh,” Morgan said, throwing up his hands, his expression a
mix of embarrassment and amusement.
At his encouragement, Emily burst into giggles, followed by Morgan’s chuckles. Reid and JJ
were already laughing.

Rossi and Hotch glanced at the four laughing agents. They exchanged an amused smirk.
 Hustling
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 3. It's November 2011. Reid
is 29, Morgan is 38 years old.

Emily had returned, Morgan’s investigation into Ian Doyle was concluded, and for the first
time in a long while, the BAU was at peace. With Reid’s mental state stabilized, Morgan,
who had been staying at Reid’s apartment for support, began returning to his own place
during the weekdays. Their routine settled back into familiar patterns, with Reid spending
weekends at Morgan’s home.

Emily entered the FBI building, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Spotting Morgan’s broad
shoulders as he walked down the hallway, she quickened her pace and called out.

“Hey, good morning.”

Morgan turned, his expression lighting up as Emily handed him the coffee.

“Look at you spoiling me,” he said, lifting his brows with a pleasant smile. “Thank you.
Where’s yours?”

“I quit caffeine. Trying to relax more.”

“Well, don’t relax too much. You’ve got ten hours of takedown and arrest procedure training
to recertify.” Morgan’s teasing grin softened the blow.

Emily blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Training? Am I the only one?”

“Prentiss, you’ve been away.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I can’t complain.” Emily rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh.

“Well, especially not to your trainer,” Morgan added with a smug expression.

“Oh! You’re doing it?” Emily’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Don’t get too excited,” Morgan warned, his grin turning mischievous. “I’m about to put you
through the wringer. You can believe that.”

Emily couldn’t help but laugh. She had missed this easy banter with Morgan more than she’d
realized.
“Hey, Morgan,” she said after a beat.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna hit the bar after work today?”

“Sure.” Morgan’s smile widened. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

When Garcia found out Emily and Morgan were going to a bar, she couldn't resist joining in,
roping JJ and Reid into the plan. Before they knew it, the five of them were in for a night out.

“How about 10 pairs of shoes? I mean, that has to be enough, right? Ten?” Reid asked, as
they walked toward the elevator together after a long day of work.

JJ explained, "Spence, it's different for women. We need shoes that match our belts, our
handbags, our skirts... and the trends change with the seasons."

Garcia chimed in, "Yeah. Boys are so boring. Pants, shoes, out the door."

Emily murmured, "I'm reminded I need to buy new boots," which got Garcia instantly
excited.

"Oh, they're having a sale at DeMille's on those tall-shaft kitty heels!"

The three women entered the elevator, still buzzing about shoes, leaving Morgan and Reid
trailing behind.

Morgan draped an arm over Reid’s shoulder and asked, “You getting all this, kid?”

“No.”

Morgan chuckled and ruffled Reid's hair as they joined the others in the elevator.

The bar was a cozy neighborhood spot, the kind where the low lighting cast a warm glow on
the wooden walls, and shelves lined with bottles of every shape and color filled the space.
The steady rhythm of classic rock blended with occasional bursts of laughter, adding to the
easy atmosphere.

Morgan's focus was on the pool table. He leaned over the edge, lining up his shot with
practiced precision. Reid, perched awkwardly on a nearby stool, watched with mild interest,
his fingers fiddling with the chalk for his cue.

Across the room, Emily, JJ, and Garcia sat at a table, drinks in hand. Emily stirred her glass
as Garcia leaned in, animatedly recounting a story that sent the others into fits of giggles.

Morgan sank another ball with a sharp crack of the cue.

“Better start warming up, kid,” Morgan said with a grin. “I’m three balls away from cleaning
the table.”

Reid scratched the back of his neck. “I guess geometry isn’t as practical as I thought it would
be,” he mumbled, glancing at the table.

Morgan laughed. “You’ve gotta do more than calculate angles, genius. This is about feel.”

Reid raised an eyebrow at Morgan but didn’t say anything.

Morgan took his next shot, sinking another ball, and leaned casually on his cue. “Maybe you
should stick to chess.”

“Noted,” Reid replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The first game ended quickly in Morgan’s favor, and the second wasn’t much better. Reid’s
shots were inconsistent—sometimes impressive, but mostly mediocre. He fumbled a few
easy ones.

“Two games down. You wanna give up now?”

Reid’s brow furrowed slightly, and he stood a little straighter.

“I’d like to try one more game, actually.”

Morgan shrugged and racked up the balls for the third game. “All right.”

Reid broke, the balls scattering across the table. He sank a striped ball, then another, and
lined up his third shot.

Morgan blinked, surprised. “Not bad.”

Reid missed his next shot, but Morgan failed to capitalize, leaving Reid with a perfect setup.
Reid’s movements became smoother, his aim sharper. One by one, the striped balls
disappeared into the pockets. Morgan's smile faded as Reid continued his streak, clearing the
table with a quiet confidence.

“Wait a second,” Morgan said, narrowing his eyes. “How did you—?”

Reid leaned on his cue, his face completely neutral.

“Oh, I analyzed your shooting patterns after the first game. You favor bank shots on the left
side, and your positioning leaves the right corner vulnerable. I just needed to calculate the
optimal angles for my shots to exploit that.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped.

“You’ve been playing me this whole time?”

Reid gave a small shrug. “I wanted to understand your strategy first.”

With effortless precision, Reid cleared the table, sinking the eight ball into the corner pocket.

Morgan stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You hustled me.”

Reid gave a sly smile. “I wouldn’t call it hustling. It was more like... strategic observation.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Morgan, I’m from Las Vegas,” Reid said, his smirk widening. “But you weren’t so bad
yourself.”

Morgan groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh, you are so lucky I love you.”

Reid chuckled. “I didn’t think it would take you three rounds to figure it out.”

Morgan grabbed Reid by the waist and lifted him off the ground, earning a surprised laugh.

“All right, genius, you’re done. Out. Go calculate something somewhere else.”

“Morgan, put me down!” Reid protested between laughs.

The three women turned their heads at the sound of the boys' laughter, exchanging eye rolls
at the sight of them acting like lovestruck teenagers.

“I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it!” Reid called out.

Morgan set Reid back on his feet, keeping his hands firmly on his hips. He leaned in close
and whispered in Reid’s ear.

“Forget about a drink. I want your kiss.”

Morgan’s hand moved to the back of Reid’s head, and they shared a kiss, long and passionate,
completely absorbed in their own world.

Emily sighed. “If they weren’t so cute, this would be insufferable.”

Garcia, JJ, and Reid started playing arcade games, while Emily and Morgan had a moment at
a high-top table.

“Look at us, back at a bar again. Just like old times,” Morgan said, clinking his glass with
hers.

After they both took a sip, Morgan leaned against the table.

“The night after your funeral, I had a dream about us talking at a bar. Just like this.” He took
another sip, his expression softening.
“What did we talk about?” Emily asked curiously.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I think you were talking about your cat,” Morgan said with a
small grin.

“Sounds riveting.”

Morgan scoffed, “Not at all. I woke up screaming your name because you vanished.”

“Oh no, Morgan. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I have a very protective boyfriend who comforted me,” Morgan said with a
mischievous grin, his eyes drifting to Reid, who was now completely absorbed in the arcade
game.

Emily glanced over at Reid.

In his casual clothes, Reid looked like a college kid.

“Good for you,” Emily said with a chuckle.

Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. “So, Derek,” she began, her voice measured.

“What?”

Emily cleared her throat. “Um... Hotch said he didn’t order my takedown recertification.”
She studied his face closely. “Do you wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

A flicker of guilt crossed Morgan's face, but he shrugged casually. “I just thought we both
could use a refresher.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “You mean you thought I could use it. You're nervous about me
being back.”

“Emily...”

“Derek, I get it. But just come out and say it.”

“Okay, fine. Yes, I am nervous,” Morgan admitted.

Emily rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips.

“But not about you. About me.”

“What do you mean?”

Morgan exhaled, “Emily, I thought I lost you, and I blamed myself. Now, you're back, but I
don't want to be worried about losing you again and get distracted.”

Emily’s chest tightened as his words hit deeper than expected. “Morgan, I can’t imagine what
you went through.”
“It was seven months of hell,” Morgan admitted, though his tone wasn’t accusatory.

“How can I make it up to you? I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Just give me ten hours of training.”

“Ok, you got it.”

“Shooting range on Sundays,” he continued.

“I’m there.”

“And my morning coffee... and a neck rub every day,” Morgan added, his grin widening.

Emily laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, buddy, you’re really pushing it. Why don’t you ask
your protective boyfriend over there?”

The sounds of Garcia and Reid cheering from the pinball machine echoed in the background.

Morgan chuckled, “Nah, it seems pretty boy’s got his hands full saving the world.”
 Prank War
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 4. It's October 2011. Reid is
29, Morgan is 38 years old.

Morgan entered the conference room with a cup of coffee in hand and settled into the chair
beside Rossi.

Rossi leaned over, his voice low but laced with amusement.
“You got beaten by the kid at pool, huh?”

Morgan froze mid-sip, eyes narrowing. “What? Who told you that?”

Rossi chuckled. “Reid. He was still laughing about your line—what was it? ‘It’s not about
calculating angles, genius. It’s about feel.’”

Morgan’s cheeks warmed as he bit his bottom lip, muttering under his breath. That guy…

Right on cue, Reid strolled in, his expression composed. Morgan’s narrowed eyes followed
him as he casually sat down, flipped open a file, and pretended to focus.

“Hey,” Morgan called, his tone pointed.

Reid glanced up, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You didn’t beat me. That wasn’t a fair game. You tricked me into thinking you were
mediocre. I went easy on you.”

Reid’s lips curved into a smirk. “Morgan, let’s be honest. You could play your best game, and
I’d still win—just like I do every time we play chess.”

Emily, seated across the room, raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to hide her amusement.
Her gaze flicked to Morgan, whose annoyance was written all over his face. Beside him,
Rossi was grinning openly now, clearly enjoying the show.

Morgan opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, Hotch, Garcia, and JJ entered the
room, signaling the start of the briefing.

Morgan sighed, leaning back in his chair. His eyes darted to Reid, who was now studiously
reviewing the case file as if nothing had happened. This isn’t over, Morgan vowed silently.

***
Last night, a high school principal in Boise, Idaho, was killed by a bomb identical to the one
used in a school shooting ten years ago.

JJ and Reid were at the crime scene where Principal Givens had been murdered.

“Why would the unsub kill the principal who held the school together after the bombing a
decade ago?” JJ asked as she surveyed the area.

Reid considered her question. “Maybe the principal was a surrogate for the unsub’s own
tormentors in high school—people he can’t punish directly.”

“Hmm…” JJ crossed her arms.

“Who were yours?” Reid asked.

“What?”

“Your tormentors in high school.”

“I don’t remember,” JJ replied with a scoff.

“You don’t remember? That means you didn’t have any.” Reid frowned, then his eyes
widened as if struck by sudden realization. “Wait… Were you one of the mean girls?”

“What? No.” JJ frowned, her voice defensive.

“Valedictorian, soccer scholarship, corn-fed but still a size zero…” Reid trailed off, his tone
becoming suspicious. “I think you might’ve been a mean girl.”

“I was actually one of the nice girls. Even to guys like you,” JJ shot back, her tone a mix of
teasing and annoyance.

“Guys like me? I'll have you know that my social standing increased once I started winning at
basketball.”

JJ gave him a skeptical once-over, her disbelief evident. “You played basketball?”

“No, I didn't play. I coached basketball. I broke down the opposing team's shooting strategy.”

JJ lifted a finger toward him. “Is that why Morgan kicked you out of the pool game at the
bar?”

“Yeah,” Reid chuckled. “Took him three rounds to realize I was hustling him.”

But then his smile faded, and his expression turned distant.

“Spence?”

“This conversation reminded me—I need to call someone.”

“Who? Your tormentor from high school?”

“No. My crush from high school.”

JJ’s eyebrows shot up, curiosity flashing in her eyes.

***

Reid’s phone beeped as he, Morgan, and JJ discussed the victimology.

“Excuse me,” Reid said, pulling out his phone. He stepped to the corner of the room as he
answered. “Aidan?”

JJ didn’t miss the way Morgan tensed at the mention of the name, his jaw tightening almost
imperceptibly.

“No, no, it’s alright. Sorry I called during a busy time,” Reid continued.

“Yeah, I heard from my mom. I’m really sorry. How is she now?” Reid asked.

JJ leaned closer to Morgan, her voice a whisper. “Is that… his high school crush?”

“Mm-hmm,” Morgan murmured, his tone flat.

Reid’s conversation shifted to Korean.

“그랬구나, 벌써 12살이 됐구나.”

“한동안 집에 못 갔으니까 슬슬 가볼까 생각 중이야. 엄마도 걱정되고.”

“난 괜찮아. 뭐, 이런저런 일이 좀 있었지만.”

Morgan exhaled sharply and flipped through the file in front of him. “JJ, let’s continue with
the profile,” he said, his voice clipped. “The unsub has to be tied to the school somehow.”

JJ glanced at him, then nodded. “Current student, alumni... maybe even a family member
who lost someone in the school bombing ten years ago.”

A quiet laugh from Reid drew both their attention.

“그래, 곧 30이야. 응, 고마워. 다시 전화할게.”

“Bye,” he finished in English before slipping his phone back into his pocket and returning to
the table.

“Sorry about that,” Reid said, glancing between them.

“It’s okay,” JJ replied casually, though her eyes flicked toward Morgan, who didn’t look up,
his displeasure plain as he kept his focus on the file.

***
When the team arrived at North Valley High School to interview the faculty, news vans were
already parked outside, reporters swarming the entrance.

“Well, it looks like we’re not the only ones,” Rossi muttered with a sigh.

Morgan and Rossi exchanged a glance before reluctantly stepping forward to address the
press, providing a distraction so Emily and Hotch could slip inside unnoticed.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Rossi began, his tone steady and authoritative. “I’m
SSA David Rossi of the FBI. That’s R-O-S-S-I. If anyone has questions, you’re free to ask
them now.”

The reporters pounced immediately.

“Agent Rossi, does this have anything to do with the school bombing ten years ago?”

“Should residents in the area still be concerned, or is the threat contained?”

“What advice does the FBI have for the public regarding this case?”

Rossi answered a few questions while Morgan’s eyes followed Emily and Hotch as they
slipped into the building. Once they were out of sight, Morgan stepped forward to wrap
things up.

“All right, feel free to call me if you have any additional background questions,” Morgan said
smoothly, clearing his throat. “My phone number is 702-555-0103.”

Rossi shot him a look, one eyebrow arching.

“And what’s your name, sir?” a reporter asked, pen poised.

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “It’s Dr. Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D.”

***

Reid’s phone buzzed with an unknown number.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Dr. Reid, this is Julia Martinez with Channel 8 News. I’m following up on your
statement from earlier. Do you have a moment for a few clarifications?”

“What? How did you...how did you get this number?” Reid stammered, his brow furrowing.

Before he could get an answer, another call came through.

“Uh...just one second.” He switched lines.

“Hi, Agent Reid, this is Rachel Stevens with The Daily Post. I’m calling regarding the
statement you gave earlier about the case. If you have a moment...”
“I’m sorry, but I...I think you’ve got the wrong number,” Reid said hastily, hanging up.

But his phone immediately buzzed again.

At the local police station, Hotch and Reid were deep in discussion about the latest victim.

“Principal Givens was high-profile. Chelsea wasn’t,” Hotch noted, “Right now, the only thing
connecting them is—”

Reid’s phone rang, the screen once again displaying an unknown number. He turned it off
with a sharp sigh.

“Sorry.”

Hotch continued, “Why Chelsea Grant? She wouldn’t threaten the unsub’s sense of
superiority.”

Reid opened his mouth to respond, but the phone buzzed again. He immediately silenced it,
irritation flickering across his face.

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asked.

“Some moron confused me with the media liaison, I think,” Reid muttered, scratching at his
neck in frustration.

***

Later, Reid speculated that the unsub might have a condition called asymbolia.

“There’s a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli
without feeling it. Their brain doesn’t send pain signals to the central nervous system,” Reid
explained to Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan.

Reid’s phone rang in his pocket, but he ignored it.

“Sounds pretty rare. You sure the unsub has it?” Rossi asked.

“The crime scenes suggest it. The unsub displayed an unusual level of savagery toward his
victims. He smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That
means he probably punched through it as a display of force. The only way the human body
could withstand that level of pain is if he didn’t feel it at all.”

“It must take a major toll on someone’s emotional development,” Rossi said.

Reid’s phone rang again, and he snatched it out of his pocket, quickly turning it off.

Morgan added, “A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is how we personally

experience pain.”
Hotch nodded, “And the unsub didn't develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off.”

“Actually,” Reid explained, “most people with asymbolia feel empathy just fine, which
makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate—loner, invisible, outcast...”

The phone rang and Reid snapped, “Son of a bitch!”

This time he answered the call. “Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the
phone right now with a very special message that your mother is--”

“Reid!” Hotch barked, cutting him off. Reid quickly hung up, flustered.

“Sorry. I'm...I'm really sorry. I don't know what got into me. Where were we?”

Morgan bit his bottom lip, struggling not to grin.

Morgan was thoroughly amused by Reid’s reaction—better than he’d expected.

He glanced at Reid’s frustrated expression again while Hotch continued talking.

Reid noticed Morgan’s smirk, and his jaw dropped as realization hit him.

“I’m going to have Garcia check medical records. What causes asymbolia?” Hotch asked
Reid.

Reid answered, his eyes still fixed on Morgan. “S-s-severe trauma produces lesions in the
insular cortex, usually after a stroke.”

Morgan grinned subtly, as if to say, now we’re even.

Reid continued, “But the unsub’s so young, it’s most likely caused by an external factor.”

“Like a bomb going off next to him?” Rossi suggested.

“Yeah, a bomb going off next to him,” Reid said, his tone sharp, still glaring at Morgan, who
was barely holding back his grin.

After Hotch left, Reid whispered,

“I will crush you.”

“What?” Morgan raised an eyebrow.

Reid shot him a pointed look. “What?”

***

JJ caught Reid and Garcia scheming the next prank on Morgan in the tech room.

“Even better,” Garcia said, her voice bubbling with excitement, “hack into his iPod and
override his playlist with your recording. There’s no way Derek will see that coming.”
“What kind of recording?”

“Good question, Einstein. Derek loves your voice, and that’s the problem. It has to be
unpleasant.”

After Reid left the tech room, JJ slipped inside.

“Are you on Team Reid now? I thought you were always Team Morgan,” she said.

“I usually am,” Garcia admitted, “but Rossi’s on Derek’s side, so I’m backing Reid this time.
What about you?”

“Morgan. Spence called me a mean girl,” JJ said with a grin.

“Fine. Derek can have you,” Garcia teased. “I’m pretty sure Emily’s going to side with Reid.
She’s always had a soft spot for him.”

***

Morgan was ready for Reid’s prank. But just as things were heating up, the case took a turn
that demanded everyone’s attention, pushing them into high gear until the unsub was finally
apprehended.

Before they knew it, they were back on the jet, heading to Quantico.

Morgan leaned back in his seat, settling into his music. But suddenly, a sharp, scratching
sound blared through his headphones, followed by Reid’s voice.

“We interrupt your regularly scheduled musical selection with an important announcement.”

Morgan frowned, startled. Reid was slouched in the seat across from him, looking asleep.

Reid’s voice continued, “Never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate, because
we have a history of going nuclear.”

Morgan exhaled and leaned back, shaking his head with a sigh. He pushed buttons on his
iPod in an attempt to stop the interruption.

“Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the dulcet sounds of me screaming in your ear.”

Morgan’s eyes widened just as Reid’s scream pierced through his headphones.

“AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!”

Morgan jumped, yanking his headphones off. Emily, sitting next to him, shot him a
questioning look, hearing the faint echo of the scream.

Morgan turned to see Reid, still pretending to sleep.

“Okay, kid, that was cute. But that's all you got?”
Reid snored, his lips curling in the faintest smile.

Just then, Morgan’s phone rang.

“Hey, baby gi—”

“AAAAHHHHH!!!!!!”

Morgan nearly dropped the phone as another scream blasted through.

Reid’s grin stretched across his face, still “asleep,” and Morgan shot him a look of pure
exasperation.

Rossi, across the aisle, waved a white handkerchief, signaling Morgan’s surrender, but
Morgan shook his head.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, glancing at Reid’s pretend snoring. “Alright, Reid, it’s on. Just know
that payback is a bitch.”

***

As Reid had expected, Morgan showed up at his apartment.

“Hey. It’s not the weekend yet,” Reid said, playing innocent.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you sleep peacefully after that prank?”

“So, you're here for payback?” Reid grinned.

“Mm-hmm.”

“What are you gonna do?” Reid challenged, stepping closer with a teasing smirk, tilting his
head slightly as he met Morgan’s gaze.

Morgan suppressed the urge to kiss him right then. Instead, he crossed his arms and said,
“Take off your clothes.”

“Make me.”

And with that, Reid darted off.

“Seriously?” Morgan said, amusement thick in his voice.

Reid ran to the far end of the living room, laughing.

Morgan followed, maneuvering around the towering bookshelves and furniture, keeping a
quick pace without fully running. “This ain't exactly a football field, genius. You’ve got what,
three rooms to run through?”
Reid ducked behind the couch, his laughter ringing out as Morgan lunged, narrowly missing
him.

Morgan rounded the couch just as Reid bolted for the kitchen. Morgan’s arm collided with a
precariously stacked pile of books on the coffee table.

“Whoa!” Reid spun around, eyes wide as the books tumbled to the floor. "Careful! Those are
first editions!”

“Then stop running!” Morgan retorted, vaulting over the corner of the couch without
breaking stride.

Reid shot through the kitchen, dodging the table and counters, but Morgan stayed right on his
tail. Reid doubled back into the living room, his laughter growing as Morgan closed in. His
foot caught the base of a floor lamp, sending it crashing toward the floor.

“Reid!” Morgan shouted, lunging forward just in time to catch the lamp, preventing it from
falling on Reid. “Man, that was close.”

Reid froze for a split second, his eyes widening as he glanced at Morgan, who stood holding
the lamp. “Sorry!” he gasped.

Then, with a breathless laugh, Reid snapped back into motion, darting away. “Bye!” he called
over his shoulder as he resumed his escape.

With a burst of speed, Morgan closed the gap quickly, his arms stretching out to grab Reid.
Reid yelped, twisting to avoid him, but his momentum sent him crashing into the armchair.
Morgan seized the opportunity, tackling him gently onto the plush rug.

“Gotcha!” Morgan declared triumphantly, pinning Reid down with one hand while the other
tickled his side.

“No! No! Not that—stop!” Reid squealed, squirming beneath Morgan, his laughter
uncontrollable. “I—yield!”

“Not so fast.” Morgan grinned. “What happened to all that fight, huh?”

Reid attempted to wriggle free, but Morgan kept him firmly in place, his strength tempered
by an unmistakable tenderness. After a few more half-hearted struggles, Reid flopped back
against the floor, panting.

“I surrender,” Reid said between breaths, his voice soft but full of amusement. “You win.”

“Damn straight I win,” Morgan said, lowering his face to hover just above Reid’s. His smile
softened, his eyes warm. “And for the record? I’m keeping score now.”

Reid chuckled, cheeks flushed from the exertion. “Fine. Just don’t tickle me again.”

“No promises.” Morgan leaned in and kissed him, the playfulness fading into something
gentle and sweet. Reid sighed softly against Morgan’s lips, his earlier resistance melting
away.

“Let's continue in bed.” Morgan whispered.

 With You
Chapter Notes

It's October 2011. Reid will turn 30 soon.

The sound of kisses mingled with soft moans, filling the quiet of Reid’s bedroom. Morgan
had him pinned beneath him, their fingers tangled as they moved against each other. His lips
trailed from Reid’s ear down to his neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses.

“Reid...?”

“Yeah?” Reid’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Morgan hesitated for a beat before murmuring, “How do you wanna do this?”

Reid’s eyes fluttered open as if he'd just been pulled from a daze. “I… what? Uh… I—I don’t
know,” he stammered.

Morgan didn’t push. He could tell Reid was flustered and had no intention of embarrassing
him. Instead, he simply dipped his head lower, kissing along Reid’s torso.

After two years and five months of slow exploration, they had managed to develop a few
ways to be intimate, each discovered with careful, tentative steps.

What Morgan hadn’t expected was that having more options would somehow make things
more awkward.

Reid was still too shy to verbalize what he wanted. The only request he ever managed was
still just a quiet, breathless, “Morgan, touch me.”

After receiving Morgan’s loving kisses all over his body, Reid slowly sat up, his heart
pounding. He glanced at Morgan with a shy gaze but quickly looked down, unsure how to
express what he wanted.

Morgan sat up with him, his hand gently cupping Reid’s cheek.

“Reid, what’s wrong?”

“Can you...” The words trailed off. Reid’s face burned. The words stuck in his throat, too
embarrassed to finish.

Morgan felt his own heart race at Reid’s nervousness. He kept his voice steady, careful. “Do
you want me to… kiss you there?”
Reid flushed a deep red before giving a small nod.

Morgan forced himself to stay composed, wanting to ease Reid’s fluster rather than add to it.
“Okay...” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Reid’s lips before gently guiding him back
down onto the bed.

His hands settled on Reid’s hips as he pressed slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin
of his inner thighs. As he did, he coaxed Reid’s legs apart, positioning himself between them.

Reid swallowed hard, his anticipation evident in the way his breath quickened. His eyes
fluttered shut, body already trembling with expectation.

Finally, Morgan leaned in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the tip of Reid’s arousal. He took
his time, trailing soft, deliberate licks with his tongue, savoring the way Reid shuddered
beneath him.

Reid let out a desperate moan, his body tense with need. “Morgan…” he gasped, wordlessly
urging him for more.

Morgan obliged, taking him into his mouth, his right hand wrapping gently around the base
while his other hand steadied Reid’s hip. He moved with tenderness and passion, his lips and
tongue working together to elicit shivers and blissful sighs.

Reid didn’t know what to do with the overwhelming sensation. He clutched the sheets,
moaning helplessly as heat coiled low in his stomach.

Morgan took him deeper, his lips tightening around him, and Reid felt himself unraveling too
fast. His breath hitched as he gasped out a warning between ragged pants.

“Morgan, I—I’m close…”

Morgan didn’t slow. If anything, he deepened his movements, drawing a broken cry from
Reid’s throat. Instinct took over as Reid’s fingers gripped the back of Morgan’s neck, his
body taut with pleasure.

“Aah… ahh—Morgan—!”

Morgan felt him tremble, his body tightening, and then, with a loud, choked moan, Reid
came undone, spilling into Morgan’s mouth.

Morgan swallowed every last drop, his own body thrumming with satisfaction at the way
Reid fell apart for him.

Still panting, Reid reached for him, arms spread wide in silent plea. “Morgan… hold me.
Hold me.”

Morgan wasted no time, gathering him close in the warmth of his strong arms. He pressed a
firm, grounding kiss to Reid’s temple, letting him feel the steady beat of his heart.
Reid clung to him, breath still uneven, murmuring, “I love you. I love you.” His voice was
raw, full of emotion.

Morgan tightened his embrace, holding him like he never wanted to let go. “I love you too. I
love you so much.”

No words could fully express what he felt for Reid, but he poured it into his touch, into the
way he held him—strong, steady, his forever.

After sharing a passionate kiss, Reid turned onto his stomach, his body signaling a quiet
invitation for Morgan.

Morgan shifted, positioning himself carefully behind Reid. He started to move his hips
against Reid’s, the friction between them sending waves of heat through both of them.
“Reid… are you comfortable?”

“I am,” Reid whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Morgan kissed the shell of Reid’s ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Reid’s spine. The
sensation reignited Reid’s arousal, and Morgan groaned softly, grinding harder against him.

With each movement, the friction between them grew more intense, pushing Morgan closer
to the edge. “Uhh....Reid...Reid...” Morgan moaned Reid’s name.

The sensation, the heat, the tension built until Morgan could no longer keep control. With a
final, satisfied groan, he sank forward, collapsing onto Reid’s back. He pressed soft,
affectionate kisses along Reid’s pale, smooth skin, savoring the touch of the man he adored.

***

Feeling too lazy to get up from bed, they stayed under the covers, facing each other in the
quiet warmth.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?”

Morgan asked softly, his fingers brushing through Reid’s hair.

“Mm...” Reid’s gaze wandered for a brief moment before returning to meet Morgan’s.

“I just want to be with you, actually,” Reid whispered shyly.

Morgan blushed, a little flustered. “Of course, but...anywhere you wanna go?”

Reid’s gaze shifted again. He thought about it, but couldn't think of anywhere.

He shook his head slowly.

“Are you sure? Last year you dragged me to Phantasmagoria. Do you wanna go again?”

Reid smiled softly. “I just want to be with you.” He repeated.

Morgan watched him, something in his chest tightening at the simplicity of the wish. Reid’s
gaze was vulnerable, unguarded, and Morgan wondered—if he mentioned marriage again,
would Reid pull away as he had before?"

“Reid.”

Morgan’s voice dropped, his eyes growing more intense. But Reid didn’t look away.

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly.

“Reid...”

Morgan’s breath quickened, a rush of emotions threatening to break free.

“Reid I... I want to marry you.”

Morgan’s heart hammered in his chest, and his eyes blurred. “I...” He furrowed his brows
slightly.

Reid didn’t respond, but he didn’t look away either. His own eyes glistened.

Morgan pushed on, “When I first asked you, you said we can’t predict the future. In Chicago,
you mentioned schizophrenia. And I get it. I know it’s scary. But…”

Morgan paused, exhaling shakily, gathering himself for the next part. He chose each word
carefully.

“If you set aside the worries and the unknowns…and just...focus on what you really want...”

His voice faltered for a moment, but he steadied it.

“Do you want to marry me too?”

Reid’s features quivered, and a single tear fell quietly.

“Morgan, you already know my answer.”

“Why can’t you say it?”

“Because if I say it, it becomes a promise. And if it doesn’t happen, it will hurt you. It will
hurt both of us.”

Morgan wiped away his tear gently.

“If your answer is yes, but it’s hard to say it… then can you kiss me?”

Reid's breath hitched as he stared at Morgan, eyes brimming with emotion. Slowly, he lifted
both hands, cradling Morgan’s face with a tenderness that made Morgan’s heart pound.
He leaned in, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was careful and deliberate.

Morgan’s eyes slipped shut. Reid didn’t pull away. He held on, lips moving against Morgan’s
with quiet conviction, as though this was the only way to make himself understood.

When they finally parted, they stayed close, their breaths mingling, neither willing to let go
of the moment just yet.

Reid’s thumb absently traced Morgan’s jaw, and Morgan exhaled, his hands still resting on
Reid’s waist.

The silence stretched, comfortable and full.

Then, Morgan murmured, “Reid, you’ll be thirty.”

Reid blinked, as if pulled from a dream. “Yeah, I know.”

Morgan chuckled, remembering something.

“What?”

“You know, Gideon used to say you looked fourteen,” Morgan teased.

“I don’t look fourteen anymore, do I?”

Morgan’s grin widened. “No… You look nineteen.”

He kissed Reid’s cheek affectionately, ignoring the way Reid’s lips pressed into a slight pout.
 In Las Vegas (1)
Chapter Notes

It's October 2011. Reid is 30, Morgan is 38.

A few days later, Reid abruptly announced to Morgan that he actually had a birthday request.

“I want you to come to Las Vegas with me for my birthday.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. “Really? You gonna officially introduce
me to your mom as your boyfriend?”

“If her condition is stable, yes.”

There was no hesitation in Reid’s voice, no nervous energy.

“Does she already know about us?”

“What? Of course. I write to her every day. If I didn’t tell her about you, there’d be nothing to
write about.”

Morgan’s throat went dry. “What… what do you tell her about us?”

“Everything.”

Morgan swallowed.

***

Bennington Sanitarium sat nestled in the Las Vegas suburbs, far from the neon chaos of the
Strip. The private facility was quiet, peaceful, and dignified.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the polished floors and cream-colored
walls. The furniture was tasteful but unobtrusive, chosen more for comfort than style.

Morgan had expected something different—something sterile, cold, clinical. Instead, the
place had the warmth of an exclusive retreat, the kind designed for those who could afford
dignity along with care. There were no harsh fluorescent lights, no overwhelming scent of
antiseptic. Just the faintest trace of lavender in the air and the distant strains of classical
music drifting from somewhere down the hall.
He glanced at Reid, who walked ahead with the familiarity of someone who had made this
journey many times before. To Reid, this was routine. To Morgan, it was the first glimpse
into a part of his partner’s life he had only heard about in stories.

Reid exchanged a brief greeting with the facility’s director before turning to Morgan.

“Her condition can be unpredictable. Let me see where she’s at before you come in.”

“Okay. I'll wait here.”

Morgan watched as Reid followed the director into the room, his usual composure tinged
with nerves and anticipation to see his mother.

No matter what state she was in, seeing his mother was always an emotional moment for
Reid.

“Hi, Mom,” he called out gently from behind her, his face softening.

Diana stood immediately, her expression lighting up as she pulled him into a hug.

“Spencer, honey, it’s so good to see you.”

“So good to see you too.”

She pulled back, studying him with sharp, assessing eyes. “You’ve filled out a little. Have
you been working out?”

Reid chuckled. “No. Must be an age thing. I’m thirty now, you know.”

Diana smiled knowingly. “Did you bring your precious Morgan?”

Reid grinned. “I did.”

“Well, I want to see him.”

Reid returned to Morgan looking so bright and happy that Morgan couldn’t help but smile
too.

“Can I see her?”

“Yeah,” Reid nodded. “She’s good.”

Diana stood waiting for them, smiling as she saw Morgan.

“Hi, Diana. It’s been a while. You look well.”

Morgan shook her hand, and she held his gaze for a moment before speaking.
“There isn’t a single letter in which he doesn’t mention you,” she said, her voice laced with
curiosity rather than teasing.

Morgan glanced at Reid, who smiled at him shyly.

Then, as if Morgan wasn’t even there, mother and son fell into easy conversation, talking
nonstop over lunch in the beautifully maintained courtyard.

Morgan observed them with interest, noting the way Diana’s blunt tone softened when she
spoke to her son, the way every glance, every small touch conveyed how much she adored
him.

At times, she treated him like a child—asking what he was eating, checking his nails, holding
his hand as if he might wander off.

And Reid… he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he leaned into it, laughing, responding with
a playful, almost boyish warmth.

But sometimes, their roles reversed when Reid questioned her about her medication and
lectured her on her attitude toward the facility staff. Those times, Diana looked annoyed—
much to Morgan’s amusement.

Morgan had always known their relationship was close, but watching them now, he realized
just how deeply they depended on each other in ways no one else could understand.

Then Diana’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Did you see Aidan and Rebecca?”

“Not yet,” Reid said. “I’ll call him tonight.”

Even after they left the facility, Reid remained in high spirits.

“That was good,” he said. “It’s rare for my mom to be that calm. I’m really glad I got to
introduce you today.”

“If she stays stable like this, would it be possible for her to leave the facility?”

Reid’s expression darkened slightly.

“That would be difficult. Her symptoms can change in an instant. The last time I visited, she
was convinced there were hidden cameras in the mirrors. When I told her there weren’t, she
got agitated—tried to prove me wrong by smashing the mirror with her bare hands. She got
seriously injured.”

Morgan stared at Reid in shock.

“Before that, she was convinced someone had hidden a microphone in my clothes, so I had to
take everything off.”

Reid had been speaking steadily, but his voice wavered slightly.

“One time, she told me there was a man standing behind me…”

Morgan watched Reid’s expression tense.

“The way her eyes focused on that empty space—it felt like someone was actually there.”

“I’m so sorry, Reid.”

“Her schizophrenia symptoms always get worse when I visit.”

“Do you know why?”

“She skips her meds before I come. Pretends to take them, hides them. She says the meds
make her head hazy, and she wants to have clear memories of me when she sees me.”

Reid let out a soft scoff. “Honestly, I’d rather see her hazy and happy than screaming at the
man behind me.”

Morgan stopped walking, his gaze fixed on Reid as the weight of it all settled over him—the
burden Reid had been carrying for a long time.

“Morgan?” Reid noticed his expression. “Morgan, it’s okay. She’s doing much better under
professional care now. When I was living with her, it was a lot harder.”

Morgan remembered what Reid had said in Chicago.

--You don’t know what it’s like to live with someone with schizophrenia.--

He stepped closer and pulled Reid into a silent hug.

For twenty years, Reid had carried this alone. He had been holding up the world on those
slender shoulders since he was ten years old.

Morgan exhaled, his chest tightening.

Not anymore.

From now on, I’ll carry it with you. I’ll carry it with you for life.

Morgan swore it in his heart.

***

“What do you want to eat for dinner?” Reid asked.

Morgan thought for a moment. “How about you take me somewhere you used to go when
you were a teenager?”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? That would be a very affordable chain burger shop.”

“Sounds good to me.” Morgan grinned.

So they went to In-N-Out Burger.

“What are you getting?” Morgan asked as they stood in line.

“Combo number two and a vanilla shake.”

“That was your usual?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll do the Double-Double,” Morgan said, glancing at the menu. Then he noticed a group of
high schoolers eyeing them.

They weren’t used to seeing a tall, handsome grown couple holding hands in their usual
burger joint.

Amused, Morgan decided to give them a show. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Reid’s
lips.

Reid frowned and pushed him away. “What are you doing?”

They were both starving by the time their food arrived. Reid wasted no time, biting into his
burger and stuffing his mouth with it. Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off him. Reid looked
ridiculously cute like this, totally focused on eating.

I must be losing it—getting mesmerized by the way a grown man eats a hamburger. Morgan
chuckled to himself. And after two and a half years together, no less.

Reid paused mid-bite, giving him a puzzled look. “What?” he asked, voice muffled.

Morgan shook his head. “Nothing.”

Realizing just how hungry he was too, Morgan took a hearty bite of his own burger.

“Damn, this is good.”

When he glanced up, Reid was watching him now.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Hm?” Reid raised his eyebrows. “Nothing. Just… you look adorable.”

Morgan almost choked.

For a while, they ate in easy silence, sipping their drinks between bites.

“Hey, Reid.”

“Yeah?”

“Is everything okay with Aidan?”

Reid hesitated. “His wife has cancer. They found out recently.”

Morgan set his burger down. “Oh… I’m sorry. How serious is it?”

“I don’t know all the details, but he said the treatment is going well.”

Morgan nodded. “That’s good. Do you know her well?”

Reid wiped his hands on a napkin. “Not really, but I was the best man at their wedding.”

***

The next afternoon, Reid and Morgan visited Aidan’s house. Morgan hesitated at first, but
since Aidan insisted, he decided to go along with Reid.

Aidan and Reid exchanged a hug. “So good to see you, Spencer.”

“Derek, good to see you again.” Aidan raised his hand in greeting, and they clasped hands
before pulling each other into a brief hug, patting each other’s shoulders.

Rebecca welcomed them both warmly. She looked well.

“It’s really good to see you. How are you feeling?” Reid asked as he hugged Rebecca.

While Rebecca briefly explained her treatment and prognosis, their pre-teen twin daughters,
Lina and Sujin, entered the living room, offering polite greetings. They glanced at the two
men curiously, but shyly.

The twins hovered near the couch, holding cups of hot cocoa, whispering to each other.
Morgan caught snippets of their conversation—something about a game last weekend, a
tough goalie, and an unfair penalty call.

“You two play hockey, huh?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his own drink. “That’s pretty
badass.”

Lina ducked her head, but a smile tugged at her lips.

“You ever play?” Sujin asked.

Morgan grinned. “Never on ice. Grew up in Chicago, played street hockey. You know,
rollerblades, trash cans for goalposts, some neighbor always yelling at us for denting their
car?” He chuckled. “You two would’ve wiped the floor with me.”
The girls giggled. “You don’t even know how we play,” Lina pointed out.

“I can tell you’re good,” Morgan said. “Tell me this—if you’re up against a team that’s bigger
and stronger than you, how do you win?”

Lina answered confidently, “Speed. You skate faster, pass quicker, stay ahead of them.”

Morgan snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Outthink ‘em, outrun ‘em. That’s what I did in
football. You don’t have to be the biggest guy on the field if you’re the smartest.”

“That’s how Spencer led Dad’s basketball team to win when they were in high school,” Sujin
said somewhat proudly.

Morgan could tell Aidan talked about Reid a lot to his family.

“I see you’re really good with kids,” Aidan said with a smile. “Do you have any of your
own?”

“What? Uh... no. I’m not married,” Morgan replied, a bit taken aback.

“Oh, I thought…” Aidan’s surprise was clear. Then he added a compliment, “Hard to believe
someone as amazing as you hasn’t been snatched up.”

Morgan smiled vaguely, glancing at Reid.

***

Something was clearly off with Morgan after they left Aidan's house. He barely spoke, his
mood dark, and the silence between them stretched as they made their way back to the hotel.

But once they stepped into the room, Morgan surprised Reid with a sudden, intense kiss. He
pulled him into a rush of motion, yanking at his clothes, too forceful, too desperate. A few
buttons flew from Reid's shirt in the frenzy.

“Morgan…” Reid tried to protest, but Morgan ignored him. He shoved Reid onto the bed
roughly and quickly undressed himself. Reid recoiled slightly. Morgan didn’t make eye
contact, and instead of the familiar touch of their intertwined fingers, he gripped Reid’s wrists
tightly to pin him down.

As Morgan moved to kiss Reid’s neck, Reid locked eyes with him, his expression firm with
disapproval.

Morgan almost flinched, but instead of backing down, he hissed. “Why haven't you told
Aidan about us?”

“Get off.”

“No.”
Reid resisted, trying to free himself from Morgan’s grip, but Morgan didn’t let go. Tightening
his hold, he pressed his mouth to Reid’s neck, sucking hard and leaving red marks. Guilt
threatened to consume him, but he forced it down, letting his anger take control.

Morgan leaned into Reid, using the weight of his body to keep him pinned, and began
unbuckling Reid’s belt, pushing his pants down.

“Morgan, stop!” Reid shouted.

Morgan paused, glaring at him.

“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?” His voice was low, edged with jealousy.

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t even want to answer that,” Reid spat, his body shaking with fury as
he tried to pull free.

“Tell me, Spencer. Have you ever fantasized about having sex with Aidan?”

Reid wanted to shout no, but his mind betrayed him. His memories flashed in front of him,
and the truth hung in the air, inescapable. He couldn’t lie. Not to Derek. Reid bit his lip.

“Reid, answer me.” Morgan’s grip tightened further.

Reid stopped fighting him, glancing away.

“When I was a teenager... yes.”

Morgan’s eyes burned with jealousy.

“You touched yourself thinking about Aidan?! You let him fuck you?!”

Reid’s face crumpled, and tears welled in his eyes. His jaw quivered as he fought to keep it
together.

Morgan froze, realizing he’d crossed a line. His chest tightened with guilt, and in an instant,
he shoved himself away from Reid, almost stumbling backward. “I’m... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Reid sat up, shaking with sobs that wracked his entire body. Morgan felt a wave of panic,
reaching out to embrace him, but Reid pulled away sharply, shoving him away. His entire
posture screaming rejection.

“Don’t touch me!” Reid shouted, his voice breaking.

“Don’t ever touch me!”

Reid snatched his clothes up off the floor, rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door
behind him.

A few minutes later, he emerged, gathering his things in silence and moving toward the door.

Morgan felt the panic rising in his chest.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll get another room,” Reid said coldly as he walked out the door.
 In Las Vegas (2)
Chapter Notes

Dear readers...♡
I was looking back at earlier chapters (32-36) and realized I mistakenly wrote Aidan’s
name as Aiden in the previous chapter. I’ve corrected it now. I apologize for the
mistake!

Garcia was in the tech room, carefully applying a fresh layer of nail polish when her phone
rang.

“Hey… baby girl.”

Garcia frowned at the uncharacteristic weight in Morgan’s voice.

“That is not the voice of my usual chocolate thunder. Who do I need to smite with my cyber
powers?”

Morgan let out a weak laugh. “Sorry for calling you at work. I just… didn’t know who else to
call.” He sighed, the sound heavy through the line.

“You sound terrible. Is your boyfriend bombarding you with insatiable urges again?” Garcia
teased, thinking back to Alaska.

But Morgan didn’t laugh.

Her tone shifted. “Okay. What happened?”

“We had a fight.”

“Oh. Let me guess—it was your fault.”

“A hundred percent.” His voice was barely steady.

Garcia hesitated. “Derek… are you crying?”

“I think he’s gonna break up with me… and I can’t blame him.”

“Couples fight, Derek,” Garcia said gently. “Come on, it’s Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan.
You two will be fine.”

“I don’t think so. I yelled at him—for admitting he fantasized about his crush when he was a
teenager.”
“A teenager? Derek!” Garcia gasped.

“And… I pushed him onto the bed. Forcefully.”

“Oh my God. What the hell got into you?”

Morgan rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I was just so… jealous.”

Morgan didn’t understand why Aidan made him feel so insecure.

He thought back to their first meeting. At the time, he had followed Reid out of pure
curiosity, wanting to see what kind of man had been Reid’s first kiss. He hadn’t known what
to expect.

Aidan was tall, handsome, and, above all, effortlessly kind. He had looked at Morgan with
warmth, spoken to him like an old friend, and carried himself with an easy confidence. He
was the kind of man even Morgan could admit he might have fallen for in another life. And
then there was the bond—undeniable, unshakable—that Aidan and Reid shared.

But now it ran deeper than that.

Ever since they left Aidan’s house yesterday, something had been festering inside Morgan. A
fear he hadn’t put into words. A wound he hadn’t dared to acknowledge.

And now, if he wanted to fix this—if he wanted to move forward with Reid—he knew he had
to face it. To be vulnerable.

Garcia’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Where is Reid?”

“He told me never to touch him. Then he stormed out.”

“Oh…”

“Penelope, what do I do?”

“My man, here’s what you’re going to do,” she said firmly.

Her advice was clear: no self-defense, no self-pity, no self-hatred. Just sincerity. Apologize.
Mean it. And keep reaching out until Reid was ready to talk.

Morgan took her words to heart. “Thanks, baby girl.”

“Anytime.”

Morgan hung up and left the room. The hotel receptionist glanced at him apologetically. “I’m
sorry, sir, but I can’t disclose a guest’s room number.”

Morgan called Reid. No answer.

He called again. Still nothing.

With a sigh, he redialed Garcia.

She picked up immediately, as if she’d been expecting the call. “1201.”

Morgan swallowed hard as he stepped into the elevator. His heart felt heavier with every
floor.

Outside Reid’s door, he knocked.

“Reid… it’s me. I’m so sorry. Can you open the door?”

Silence.

He knocked again. “Reid, please. I messed up. Just—please open the door.”

Nothing.

A twisting pain settled in his gut. He had hurt the one person he never wanted to hurt. The
one person he would do anything to protect.

Morgan pressed his forehead against the door. “Reid, I love you. I’m sorry.”

Still, the door stayed closed.

***

Reid couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. His fury toward Morgan was even
stronger than when he’d faced off against Senator Cramer. He had never cried out of rage
before.

Clenching his fists, Reid bounced his leg restlessly as he sat alone on the hotel bed.

The reason he hadn’t told Aidan about his relationship with Morgan was simply because
Morgan hadn’t originally planned to come. Sure, he could’ve introduced him as his boyfriend
during the greeting, but in those situations, Reid always ended up with an awkward,
embarrassed smile. And, it hadn’t seemed appropriate to mention it while visiting a man
whose wife had just been diagnosed with cancer.

But Morgan had jumped to conclusions. He’d demanded, “You still have feelings for Aidan,
don’t you?” Then, he’d gotten angry and forced Reid onto the bed. That was over the line, no
matter how you looked at it. Reid hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet Morgan had yelled at him
—then that awful line...

“You let Aidan fuck you?!”

Reid grimaced at the memory. “Damn it, Morgan.” He muttered, his fists tightening. “Go to
hell...” Reid covered his face.

Then there was a knock at the door.

“Reid… it’s me. I’m so sorry. Can you open the door?”

It was almost 7 PM. He hadn’t eaten dinner. They were supposed to be sightseeing in Las
Vegas tonight, enjoying his favorite Halloween decorations. They were here for his birthday,
too. The thought of how much fun they should have been having made him sad, but it also
stirred a fresh wave of anger.

Another knock.

“Reid, please. I messed up. Just—please open the door.”

Morgan knocked a few more times, but after about an hour, silence fell.

Finally... he’s gone.

Reid carefully opened the door to go find something to eat—only to see Morgan sitting on
the floor, leaning against the wall right next to the door.

“Reid.”

Reid’s eyes widened, and he immediately slammed the door shut.

“Morgan, I want to go eat, but I don't want to see you. Respect my space.”

Reid spoke firmly. He heard Morgan’s dispirited voice through the door.

“Okay... I’ll go back. Please go eat.”

A few minutes later, Reid cautiously opened the door again, but Morgan was finally gone.

Reid wandered through the night streets. The hotel was located about eight miles from the
famous Las Vegas Strip. The sidewalks were bustling with tourists, all laughing and chatting
as they admired the elaborate Halloween decorations adorning the storefronts.

As he walked, Reid's mind drifted back to his teenage years, when he had admired Aidan.
Even after high school, he had stayed in touch with him, meeting up frequently. At sixteen,
he’d shared his first kiss with Aidan, and for the next two years—until Aidan got married—
Reid’s quiet admiration for him had burned intensely.

Aidan had met Rebecca in college and married her young, at twenty-four.

Reid had never hoped for anything more than friendship with Aidan—he was content with
his one-sided admiration. Even so, when Aidan married, it had hurt. At eighteen, Reid had
dated a girl for the first time, as a way to move on.
He could remember these things as facts, but he couldn’t feel the emotions from that time
anymore.

Reid thought about Morgan’s words—“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”—and
tried to find some truth in them. The answer was clear.

No.

He didn’t have feelings for Aidan anymore.

There was only one person who filled his thoughts and his heart.

Reid covered his face with his hands.

Morgan.

Morgan... Morgan... Morgan... Morgan...

His embrace, the warmth of his skin, the strength in his arms.
His eyes.
His kiss.
His voice.....

--Reid, I love you.

--I love you so much.
--Reid, comfort me.
--Reid, I want to marry you.

Reid’s chest tightened with longing.

But then, Reid was reminded of how unfairly Morgan had accused him, how he had used his
strength against him—grabbing his wrists and stripping him of his clothes. The heat of rage
rose to his face once again.

Sighing deeply, he bought a sandwich from a nearby vendor, and ate it alone on a bench in
the cool night air.

***

As Reid returned to his room and began getting ready for bed, another knock sounded at the
door.

"Reid... can we talk?"

"Reid... I'm really sorry."

Reid crawled under the covers, pressed his hands over his ears, and shut his eyes, trying to
sleep.

***
The next morning, their flight was early. When Reid stepped out of his room with his
luggage, he found Morgan asleep, slumped against the wall.

“Morgan, we’re leaving. Get up.”

“Mm...” Morgan stirred, pressing his fingers to his temple.

He glanced at his watch, his face etched with exhaustion. “I’ll grab my things. Can you wait
in the lobby?”

Morgan was quiet in the taxi to the airport. Seeing him shrink into himself with slumped
shoulders, Reid couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him.

Just as they finished checking in their luggage, a familiar voice called out.

“Spencer! Spencer!”

Reid and Morgan both turned, surprised to hear Aidan’s voice.

“Spencer! I’m glad I caught you. You forgot this—could this be your house key?”

“Oh—wow. I didn’t even realize. You could’ve called me.”

“We just found it about an hour ago, so I came straight here. But I did call once I got to the
airport.”

Reid checked his phone. “You’re right. Sorry about that. And thanks for going out of your
way.”

“Well, it’d be pretty bad if you couldn’t get into your own house.”

Reid looked down at the key in his hand. It had a brown leather keychain engraved with S.R.
& D.M. His eyes flicked up to Aidan, as if a thought had just occurred to him.

“Did you notice the initials?”

“Yeah, I did.” Aidan’s eyes twinkled as he grinned. “D.M. must be... Derek Morgan, right?”

Aidan gave Morgan’s arm a playful shove with his fist, his grin widening. “Why didn’t you
tell me yesterday when you said you weren't married?”

Morgan smiled awkwardly.

Reid cleared his throat and turned to Aidan, his voice soft but firm.

“Aidan, let me introduce him properly—Derek is my boyfriend, and we’re in a committed

relationship.” He paused, blushing, then added, “I love him.”

Morgan’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Reid.

Aidan, nodding like a proud father at his daughter’s wedding, teared up and pulled Reid into
a hug.

“Congratulations, Spencer. You’ve found a really great man.”

Then, he hugged Morgan tightly and said, “Congratulations. Take good care of him.”

With a bright smile, Aidan waved and walked away.

Reid glanced at Morgan before heading toward the airport security. Morgan followed behind,
his face warm with embarrassment, shame settling heavy in his chest.

***

Reid didn’t say a word on the flight back to D.C. He kept his eyes on his book or gazed out
the window, offering nothing to Morgan.

As they landed at Reagan National, unease tightened in Morgan’s chest, making his heart
race.

“Reid, can we talk at my place?”

Reid didn’t even look at him. “Are you going to force me onto the bed again? I don’t feel safe
with you.” The words were sharp, barbed, thrown more to wound than to reflect what he truly
felt.

Morgan flinched, his stomach twisting. “How about a café or somewhere else?”

Reid sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “Your place is fine.”

***

Morgan handed Reid a cup of coffee and sat down across from him.

“I’m really sorry,” Morgan said, his voice hoarse. He glanced at Reid with swollen eyes
before lowering his gaze. He was mentally exhausted. He rubbed his chin, trying to gather his
thoughts, but now that he finally had the chance to talk, his mind was blank.

Reid broke the silence. “Why did you get so jealous?”

Morgan shifted in his seat, “Besides the obvious reasons?”

Reid frowned, irritation flickering across his face. “What are the obvious reasons?”

Morgan hesitated, then sighed. “He was your crush. Your first kiss.”

Reid’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be jealous of a teenage crush.”
Morgan shifted again, clearing his throat. “Aidan said Rebecca was the only person he ever
dated. That he saved himself for marriage.”

Reid’s frown deepened, completely lost. “Yeah. I knew that. So...?”

Morgan exhaled heavily, realizing there was no turning back. He had no choice but to lay
everything bare—his insecurities, his jealousy, the flaws he couldn't ignore. No matter how
stupid it made him look. If he tried to hide his vulnerability, the cracks would show again,
and he’d only end up hurting Reid again.

“Aidan is so damn perfect.” Morgan said, “Not only he's a moral person and good looking,
he's also so... pure. You know, sexually. He’s not tainted like I am.”

“You are not tainted.”

“Oh, I am, Reid. I am.” Morgan scoffed bitterly. “I was so messed up. I was already sexually
active at thirteen because of the abuse, and by fifteen, I was sleeping around.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“The abuse wasn't. But everything else was my own choice. I was old enough to know what I
was doing, Reid.” Morgan ran a hand over his face.

“The abuse ended when I left for college. But I didn’t change. On the surface, I was an honor
student, excelling in academics and sports. But behind the scenes... I was addicted to sex. I
slept with more women than I can count.”

The shame in his voice was unmistakable, and Reid lowered his gaze, his heart aching for
him. It was obvious that years of sexual abuse had left him compulsively seeking sex with
women.

“I changed completely after developing feelings for you.”

His eyes flicked up to Reid’s, and Reid offered him a soft smile.

Morgan continued, “Finally I was content with who I was and my past never really bothered
me.....until...yesterday.”

Reid tilted his head.

“Aidan came along—Spencer’s first love. A damn alpha male. The whole package. And he
tells me he’s only ever been with his wife.” Morgan let out a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Compared to Aidan, I’m like... I felt so...damaged.”

“Morgan…” Reid tried to protest, but Morgan kept going.

“After we left his house, this voice kept telling me I don’t deserve you.” Morgan’s gaze
dropped to the table.
“I could never compete with Aidan. If he turned around and pursued you, he’d win you over
in a heartbeat.”

His face tensed as tears spilled over. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Reid. He wondered
how pathetic he must seem.

“You’d leave me for him.” Morgan’s voice broke. “Especially after what I did to you last
night.”

His brows drew together. “I’m so sorry.”

The silence stretched between them.

Reid let out a slow, shaky breath, gripping his coffee cup as he processed everything Morgan
had just laid bare.

Setting his cup down, Reid stood up.

Morgan didn’t react when Reid walked around the table. His shoulders remained hunched,
his head bowed, as if he were bracing himself for rejection.

Reid wrapped his arms around Morgan, pulling him into a firm embrace.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Morgan let out a shaky breath but didn’t move.

“I love you, Morgan,” Reid whispered, tightening his hold. “I love Derek Morgan. No one
else.”

Morgan’s body was tense, like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

“Reid, you said you don’t feel safe with me.” Morgan’s voice cracked, fresh tears slipping
down his cheeks.

“Yeah, about that...” Reid sighed. “I was just being mean. I’m sorry.”

Morgan hesitated, then asked, still in Reid’s arms. “Do you remember what you said to me
four years ago, when you came to my house... the day you waited for me outside in snow...?”

“Of course I remember,” Reid replied with a soft smile, quoting his words with warmth in his
gaze.

“‘You're my sanctuary, where I come back for safety and comfort.’”

“Am I... still your sanctuary?” Morgan whispered.

Reid’s eyes widened, then his face tightened before tears began to spill. “You are.” Reid’s
voice cracked as he cried. “You are.” He repeated, clinging to him tightly.

Morgan exhaled, letting himself finally lean into Reid’s embrace.

Slowly, Morgan’s arms circled around Reid’s waist, holding him just as tightly in return.
 Unease
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 7. It's November 2011. Reid
is 30, Morgan is 38 years old.

Reid’s soft moans echoed through the air.

“Hmm...mm...”

A mix of contentment and need.

But something felt off. The sound was distant, just beyond his reach.

Morgan could hear the press of kisses, the warmth of breaths mingling.

“Uhh...”

He could picture it—Reid’s lips parting, voice unraveling into desperate moans.

Why am I standing here?

Morgan stood frozen in front of Reid’s bedroom door. It was open just a few inches, the
sounds unmistakably coming from inside.

Am I hearing us?

Am I dissociating?

Heart pounding, Morgan slowly pushed the door wider.

The moans grew clearer, achingly familiar. That voice—Reid’s voice—was one Morgan had
adored and listened to for years, learned by heart.

But the man above Reid wasn’t him.

Morgan felt the blood drain from his body.

“Aidan... Aidan...”

Reid clung to Aidan’s broad shoulders.

“I love you, Spencer...” Aidan whispered.

Something inside Morgan shattered. His breath caught, vision swimming. Tears burned his
eyes before he even realized he was crying.

“Reid.”

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. His body was paralyzed, rooted to the spot.

“Reid.”

His voice came hoarse, barely more than a whisper. But Reid’s eyes remained locked on
Aidan.

“Reid.”

This time, Reid reacted. His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze flickering as if searching for
the faint voice he’d heard.

“Reid... I’m sorry.”

Morgan’s voice broke. The words barely formed before his tears fell harder.

At last, Reid turned toward him. Their eyes met.

For a moment, Reid looked at him with warmth—soft, nostalgic, as if seeing an old love he’d
once cherished.

Then he turned back to Aidan.

Morgan felt himself unravel.

“I’m sorry...” The words fell from his lips, hollow and lost.

Sadness swallowed him whole. Deep, endless.

His body trembled—

—and then he woke, gasping.

His cheeks were wet, his chest tight. He sat up in bed, his mind scrambling between dream
and reality.

For one terrifying moment, he couldn’t tell the difference.

Did Reid leave me?

No.

They had talked. And—

"I love you, Morgan. No one else."

Reid’s voice echoed in his memory, grounding him.

Morgan exhaled, willing himself to breathe. But his lungs fought him, shallow and uneven.
He gripped his damp shirt over his chest.

It took effort to move. He dragged himself out of bed, unsteady, and checked the clock.

5:47 AM.

Thursday.

His mind replayed the last few days—the conversation with Reid, seeing him at work, the
light kisses, the easy banter. Garcia had winked at him, and he had smiled, reassured.

They were fine. They were okay.

A warm shower helped. The familiar routine of brushing his teeth, shaving, getting dressed—
steadied him.

He had no appetite. It was too early for work, but he grabbed his keys anyway.

The November morning air was crisp, biting against his face as he stepped outside. It helped.
It cleared his head just enough.

Morgan sighed, got in the car, and drove.

***

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat when Reid walked into the office with a cup of coffee in hand.

As usual, the moment he walked in, his eyes flicked toward Morgan’s office. His face lit up
when he saw him, and he gave a small wave with the hand not holding his coffee—dropping
the files tucked under his arm to the floor.

Morgan chuckled. It felt so familiar—just like any other weekday morning when they saw
each other at work.

They had a new case today, and soon, Morgan was fully focused on work. They were flying
to Kansas.

The private jet lurched violently. Reid steadied his glass of water on the table.

He glanced at Rossi, who had gone noticeably pale, gripping the armrests of his seat. Reid
smirked.

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.”

“I’m not. I just hate turbulence,” Rossi grumbled.

“You know, turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.” Reid told Rossi.

Rossi shot him a flat look. “That does me absolutely no good at the moment. Thank you.”

Reid, undeterred, continued. “What we really need to worry about are microbursts—sudden
downbursts of air associated with thunderstorms. If a small craft like this one hits one at the
wrong altitude...”

He made a explosion gesture. “Pfwoosh! Pulverized.”

Rossi turned to Morgan, deadpan. “I beg you to make him stop.”

Morgan couldn't help but laugh.

Looking out the window, he saw nothing but thick clouds, a grayish-white blur reducing
visibility to nothing. Without warning, the image of Reid and Aidan flashed in his mind—
bodies intertwined, names whispered.

Morgan clenched his jaw and shook his head. No. He refused to feed into it.

His gaze drifted back to Reid, who was now in full lecture mode, talking rapidly to Hotch.
Hotch, in turn, just stared at him.

“The vast majority of unsubs with this type of M.O. aren’t driven by the killing itself—
they’re more fascinated by the body parts. Psychologically, they exist in a realm where
fantasy meets delusion. It’s basically the perfect blueprint for the creation of a serial killer b
—”

Reid abruptly stopped and looked up at Hotch.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

JJ and Emily’s lips twitched with amusement.

Morgan smiled, too. It was comforting—Reid being Reid.

Just two more days until the weekend. Morgan couldn’t wait for some real time alone with
him. He’d do anything to make Reid smile.

He wanted to hold him, cuddle him, and reassure himself that everything was still the same
between them.

***

“Morgan, slow down! You’re too fast!”

“Oh, come on, Reid. You’re on a bicycle.” Morgan turned back with a laugh, barely slowing
his pace before continuing his run.

Reid grumbled as he pedaled, breathing hard.

The morning was crisp and golden, the sun casting long shadows over the Potomac River. A
gentle breeze rustled the fiery autumn leaves, sending a few twirling to the ground. The air
was fresh, carrying the faint scent of earth and water. Morgan ran with steady, effortless
strides along the riverside path, while Reid trailed behind, his bicycle tires crunching over
fallen leaves.

Finally, Reid gave up, slowing to a stop.

“Call me when you’re done,” he said, swinging a leg over the bike and getting off.

Morgan turned around and jogged back with a grin. “I can stop here today.”

“Are you sure? This isn’t even half the distance you usually run.”

“It’s okay.” Morgan leaned in, pressing a kiss to Reid’s temple.

They grabbed sandwiches and coffee and settled onto a bench overlooking the river. As they
ate, Morgan chuckled at the memory of Reid falling off a boat.

Reid narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“It was just so funny.” Morgan chuckled some more.

They strolled hand in hand along the water’s edge, their steps slow and easy. The autumn air
wrapped around them, the quiet between them warm and content.

As the days passed, the memory of Morgan’s dream faded—replaced by moments like this.

***

After cooking and eating together, the night fell quickly. Reid crawled into bed first, a quiet
thrill bubbling in his chest as he waited for Morgan. They hadn’t had a moment like this since
before their trip to Las Vegas.

The bed creaked as Morgan settled in beside him. Reid glanced up, heart picking up speed.
Morgan smiled. “Hey.”

Reid’s lips curled slightly. “Hey.”

Lying on their sides, facing each other, Morgan reached for Reid’s hand, threading their
fingers together. His grip was warm and careful. He lifted Reid’s hand to his lips, pressing
slow kisses to his knuckles.

Morgan leaned in, brushing a kiss against Reid’s cheek. He lingered there, breath warm
against Reid’s skin. A small shiver ran through Reid—not from the chill in the air, but from
the tenderness in Morgan’s touch.

Morgan pulled him close, murmuring against his hair, “I love you.”

“Morgan, kiss me.” Reid whispered.

Morgan obliged, pressing his lips gently to Reid’s before letting them skim the shell of his
ear.

Reid closed his eyes, sighing as his body eased into the comfort of Morgan’s presence.

Morgan’s lips moved lower—over his jaw, down his throat—each kiss featherlight, reverent.
He hesitated as he peeled away Reid’s shirt, exhaling quietly. His fingers brushed Reid’s
chest, his touch achingly gentle.

Reid chuckled. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”

“Mm...” Morgan made a sound in the back of his throat and carefully continued his slow,
deliberate kisses, each one filled with such care that it made Reid’s chest tighten.

“Are you still feeling bad about what happened in Las Vegas?”

A long pause stretched between them. Morgan stilled, his forehead resting against Reid’s
shoulder for a brief moment. He exhaled deeply before drawing back just enough to meet
Reid’s gaze.

“I am.” He admitted.

Reid cupped Morgan’s face, “Kiss me.” He said again.

Morgan’s lips were pressed against Reid’s once again. The tender kiss held more apology and
devotion than any words ever could.

Reid’s hands were warm against Morgan’s skin, fingers tracing slow, familiar paths down his
spine. Morgan let out a shaky breath, trying to focus on the sensation—the way Reid pressed
against him, the way their lips met in an unhurried rhythm. He wanted this. God, he wanted
this.

But something felt off.

His heart was pounding, but not with the usual anticipation. His body wasn’t responding the
way it should. There was no heat curling in his stomach, no rush of arousal flooding through
him. Just a dull, unsettling void where desire should be.

Reid pulled back slightly, “You okay?”

Morgan swallowed, willing his body to cooperate. He kissed Reid again, desperate to push
past whatever this was.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself aroused.

A nagging unease was creeping in, but Morgan shoved it down. Instead, he focused on
guiding Reid toward release.

He moved his hand with deliberate care, building Reid’s pleasure. Reid’s body trembled
under Morgan’s touch. Morgan continued until Reid’s fingers curled against his skin, his
breath coming in uneven pants, finally coming undone.

Morgan held onto the moment, absorbing the warmth of his body, the way he melted against
him.

Morgan held Reid close, fingers threading through his hair.

Reid shifted, his breaths still uneven. “What about you? You didn’t—”

“I’m good,” Morgan interrupted gently, pressing a kiss to Reid’s temple.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to focus on you.”

Reid studied Morgan’s face, confusion flickering in his eyes, but he chose not to press.
 PED

“Reid, it’s okay. Stop.” Morgan gently cupped Reid’s head, stopping him from kissing his
neck.

Reid sat up, concern flickering across his face. “You can’t...?”

It was already late November. Two weeks had passed since their trip to Las Vegas, and this
was their fourth attempt since then.

Morgan hadn’t had an erection once.

He exhaled sharply and rolled onto his back, covering his face with both hands. “I don’t
know what’s wrong with me.”

“Oh, of course you do.” Reid’s voice was light, tinged with confidence. Morgan knew exactly
where this was going.

“Reid...” He tried to cut him off, but it was too late.

“You’re experiencing psychogenic erectile dysfunction. It’s often linked to unresolved guilt
and subconscious fears related to intimacy.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reid,” Morgan muttered sarcastically, but Reid wasn’t done.

“Unlike organic ED, which stems from vascular, neurological, or hormonal dysfunctions,
psychogenic ED is primarily mediated by the central nervous system, wherein heightened
sympathetic nervous system activity and excessive cognitive processing inhibit the normal
erectile response. Notably—”

“Reid. Stop. I know what PED is.” Morgan rubbed his face.

Reid slowed down. “In your case, it’s definitely the guilt. Especially since it’s directly tied to
your actions in an intimate context. You know, what you did to me in Vegas?”

His tone was teasing, not accusatory.

Morgan didn’t answer, his face glum.

“Come on, Morgan. I was just kidding.” Reid pushed him playfully.

“You know I forgave you completely, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” Morgan’s gaze was warm, grateful.

“Have you ever had this problem before?”

“No.” Morgan sighed.

Reid was quiet for a moment before reaching out, his fingers brushing over Morgan’s face.

“You’ll be fine. PED is temporary and treatable.”

“Yeah...” Morgan murmured, but his uncertainty lingered.

***

Lacking mutual excitement, Reid gradually became reluctant to be intimate with Morgan.

When Morgan touched him, Reid would respond at first, but the moment he realized Morgan
was doing it only for his sake, he would gently push him away.

“Morgan, it’s okay. We don’t have to have sex.”

“Reid, I just want you to feel good.”

“I want it to be mutual,” Reid said softly. “Just... cuddle me.”

***

December came quickly.

It had been Reid’s idea to see a couples counselor, but on the day of their appointment, he
was painfully nervous.

In the car, he kept wetting his lips, swallowing, and shifting in his seat.

Morgan shot him a side glance. “Reid, relax. It’s not you who has the problem.”

The counselor’s office was warm and inviting, designed to put people at ease. Soft yellow
walls, lined with framed affirmations and peaceful landscapes, gave the room a cozy feel. A
plush gray couch sat across from a well-worn leather armchair, with a small wooden coffee
table between them. It didn’t feel clinical or intimidating.

Dr. Lillian Carter exuded that same warmth. A middle-aged Black woman with kind eyes and
a calming presence, she wore a soft cardigan and sensible flats. She greeted them with a
gentle smile and gestured toward the couch.

Settling into her chair, she clasped her hands together. “I’m really glad you both came in
today. Therapy can feel a little daunting at first, but my job is to help you feel comfortable
and heard, okay?”

Reid nodded, his eyes flickering toward Morgan.

Dr. Carter continued, her tone light. “So, before we dive in, I’d love to get to know you both
a little better. How long have you been together?”
Morgan cleared his throat. “Two and a half years.”

“And nineteen days,” Reid added.

She smiled. “That’s wonderful. What would you say is your favorite thing to do together?”

“I like cooking with him at his place,” Reid answered.

Morgan’s expression softened. “Yeah. I like that too. I also like taking walks with him.”

Dr. Carter nodded warmly. “That sounds lovely. Now, what made you decide to come in
now?”

Morgan shifted slightly. “I—uh, I’ve been struggling with something lately.” He hesitated,
glancing at Reid. “I can’t perform sexually.”

Reid swallowed, lowering his gaze.

Dr. Carter remained warm and reassuring. “Thank you for sharing that, Derek. When you say
‘can’t perform,’ can you tell me a little more about what that means for you?”

Morgan exhaled through his nose. “I mean… physically. Intimacy’s never been an issue
before, but lately, I just—” He shook his head. “It’s not working.”

Reid fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.

“You said intimacy has never been an issue before. Do you enjoy being intimate with
Spencer?”

“Of course.”

Reid’s face flushed immediately.

Dr. Carter turned to Reid with an encouraging look. “How about you, Spencer?”

“What?” Reid was visibly flustered.

“How do you feel during intimate moments with Derek?”

“H... how do I feel? Uh…”

Reid looked lost for a moment, his fingers twitching in his lap.

“I feel… well, I feel the release of oxytocin and dopamine, which activate the nucleus
accumbens, creating a sense of pleasure and reinforcing bonding behavior.”

Dr. Carter blinked. Reid continued rapidly.

“And—and the parasympathetic nervous system dilates the blood vessels, increasing blood
flow to the—”
Morgan cleared his throat. “Reid.”

Dr. Carter composed herself quickly. “That’s very insightful, Spencer. And emotionally?”

Reid hesitated. “I mean, if we consider the limbic system’s involvement, emotions and
pleasure are intrinsically linked, but—” He swallowed. “I think what I’m trying to say is… I
feel safe and content with him. And that’s… good?”

Morgan couldn’t resist shoving Reid’s head playfully.

Dr. Carter chuckled. “That’s wonderful, Spencer. Thank you for sharing that. And you,
Derek?”

“I feel… happy. Connected. Deeply satisfied. Like we belong to each other. And I’m
reminded how much I adore him.”

Reid ducked his head, his face warm.

“When did you first notice that something felt different?”

With a heavy heart, Morgan explained what had happened about a month ago—meeting
Aidan, Reid’s old crush, learning about Aidan’s chastity, and how it had made him feel
insecure and jealous.

His jaw tightened as he recounted pushing Reid onto the bed and yelling at him.

Reid shifted beside him, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for him but wasn’t sure if
he should.

Morgan exhaled. “After we made up… I realized I couldn’t perform.”

Dr. Carter leaned back in her chair, watching him with steady warmth.

“Derek, when you and Spencer try to be intimate… what thoughts come up for you?”

Morgan let out a slow breath. “It’s like… I want to, I really do, but the second things start
getting real, something just—locks up.”

“Is it guilt?”

“Yeah... I think so.” His jaw clenched.

“What exactly crosses your mind?”

Dr. Carter’s tone was gentle but probing, like she knew Morgan already had the answer and
was strong enough to face it.

Morgan searched his own mind. He could feel Reid sitting stiffly beside him. His voice was
lower when he answered.
“That I hurt him. With my words and actions. And even though I stopped—even though he
forgave me—I…” His throat felt tight.

“I don’t know if I deserve him anymore.”

Reid’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

Dr. Carter let the silence settle before speaking again, her voice gentle but firm. “It sounds
like a part of you still believes you crossed a line that can’t be undone.”

Morgan nodded.

Dr. Carter studied him carefully. Then, in that same warm voice, she asked, “Are you afraid
of hurting Spencer again?”

Morgan frowned, shaking his head. “No. I know I won’t.”

She turned slightly toward Reid. “Spencer, can I ask… do you ever feel afraid with Derek?”

Reid scoffed. “No.” The idea seemed almost funny to him.

Dr. Carter tilted her head slightly, watching him. “Not even right after the incident in Las
Vegas?”

“I was pissed, but I was never afraid of him.”

Dr. Carter waited a moment.

“I forgave him. I trust him completely, and he knows that.”

Frustration flickered across Reid’s face. Dr. Carter nodded, then turned back to Morgan.

“What do you think needs to happen for you to forgive yourself?”

“...I don’t know.”

Dr. Carter studied him thoughtfully. “If the situation were reversed—if Spencer were
struggling instead of you—what would you say to comfort him?”

“I’d tell him not to worry. That we’ll figure it out together.”

***

By their third session, Reid was noticeably more at ease.

But as the conversation shifted toward more specific details of their intimacy, his tension
returned.

Dr. Carter introduced mindfulness techniques to help Morgan reconnect his mind and body.
“The goal is to remove pressure,” she explained. “We’ll develop a structured exercise where
you focus on emotional connection without the expectation of performance. This will help
your body relearn how to respond naturally.”

She noticed Reid zoning out but continued addressing Morgan.

“Are you able to experience pleasure in other ways, even if intercourse doesn’t happen?”

“Um… actually, we’ve never had penetrative sex,” Morgan admitted.

Reid snapped back to attention, his eyes wide.

“That’s completely fine,” Dr. Carter reassured them. “Many same-sex couples consensually
choose not to engage in penetrative sex. Have you two discussed it?”

“Not really… We’re still exploring different ways,” Morgan said.

Reid swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, his face turning red.

Dr. Carter nodded. “And have any of those intimate activities been working for you?”

Morgan hesitated before shaking his head.

“Have you tried masturbation?”

“I have. Didn't work.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Derek, that’s not uncommon,” Dr. Carter assured him. “As we work through this, your body
can stop associating intimacy with guilt, allowing natural arousal to return.”

Morgan nodded, though he still looked uncertain.

For now, Dr. Carter advised them to focus on emotional connection and let go of any pressure
to perform for the next two weeks.

Talking to her helped. They were already affectionate and emotionally close without sex, but
the unspoken tension surrounding it had been like an elephant in the room. Now, with
permission to set intimacy aside for a while, it felt like a weight had lifted.

They could cuddle, whisper love, and show affection without that lingering worry. And for
them, that part had always been easy.

***

Morgan and Reid curled up on the couch, sharing a bag of Honey Nut Chex Mix as a
basketball game played on TV.

Reid, in control of the bag, was picking through it with clear intent. Every time he pulled out
something salty—a pretzel, a rye chip, or a seasoned square—he popped it into Morgan’s
mouth. The sweet ones were for himself.

Morgan chewed, finally catching on. “Wait a minute.” He glanced at the bag. “You’re giving
me all the salty ones.”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid didn’t even look away from the screen.

Morgan huffed a laugh. “So I don’t get any of the good stuff?”

Reid finally turned to him, chewing on a vanilla breadstick. “You like the sweet ones?”

“I like both.”

Reid just reached into the bag again. “I want the swirly cookie.”

Morgan peered inside. “You already ate all of those.”

Reid made a small, considering hum. “Then the breadstick.”

Morgan chuckled, fishing one out and holding it up. Instead of taking it, Reid leaned forward
and plucked it straight from Morgan’s fingers, his lips grazing them slightly.

Morgan felt heat rise to his face. “You do that on purpose?”

“Do what on purpose?” Reid frowned.

“Make me blush.”

Reid looked genuinely puzzled. “No.”

Morgan shook his head, amused, and leaned in to press a kiss to Reid’s temple. “Do you
know how much I love you?”

Reid turned toward him, lips curving. “I think I do.”

Morgan smiled and pulled him closer. “Really?” He kissed him slow and sweet, the bag of
Chex Mix slipping from Reid’s lap as he melted into Morgan’s touch.

Morgan pulled back slightly. “Reid.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for being with me.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “Why suddenly?”

“I shouldn’t take it for granted. Being with you.” Morgan’s voice was warm, sincere.

Something about the way he said it made Reid’s chest tighten. He cuddled into Morgan’s
chest and whispered, “Me too.”
They kissed again and held each other close. The game played on in the background, but
neither of them was paying attention anymore.
 Rainy Day in December
Chapter Notes

It's December 2011. Reid is 30, Morgan is 38.

[To my amazing readers

Happy Valentine’s Day!!♡♡

On this day of love, I just want to say how grateful I am for each and every one of you.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for engaging. Your presence means the world
to me. Wishing you love and happiness today and always!]

The first thing Reid registered upon waking was warmth—the kind that lingered on his skin
from the heavy blankets wrapped around him, and the kind that filled the air with the sweet
scent of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee.

The soft patter of rain against the window made everything feel even more peaceful, like the
world had slowed down just for them.

He blinked his eyes open, taking in the familiar sight of Morgan’s bedroom, the space that
had become as much his as it was Morgan’s. A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he stretched,
the distant sound of soft humming from the kitchen pulling him out of bed.

Padding barefoot down the hall, he peeked into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway.
Morgan stood at the stove, effortlessly flipping a pancake in the pan, his broad shoulders
relaxed, his expression content. When he turned and caught sight of Reid, his face lit up with
that warm, easy smile that always made Reid’s heart skip.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” Morgan greeted, voice still rough from sleep.

Reid smiled, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Morgan’s waist from behind,
pressing his cheek against his shoulder.

“What are you making?” he murmured, nuzzling into the warmth of Morgan’s back.

“Breakfast for my favorite genius. Coffee’s ready, too,” Morgan answered, setting the spatula
aside just long enough to turn in Reid’s arms and press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. Reid
sighed into it, melting.

When Morgan pulled back, Reid glanced toward the window, watching the raindrops trail
down the glass.
“No jogging this morning?”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s raining, Einstein.”

On cue, Clooney let out a long, exaggerated sigh from his spot on the floor, looking
thoroughly unimpressed with the lack of morning activity.

Reid grinned before, without warning, jumping up and wrapping his legs around Morgan’s
waist, his arms clinging to his shoulders.

Morgan caught him with ease, laughing as he steadied him. “Oh, so you get to be carried
around, but I don’t get my run?”

“That’s right,” Reid said smugly, inhaling Morgan’s scent around his neck.

Morgan kissed him again, lighter this time, pressing little pecks along his jaw and nose,
making Reid giggle.

“What do you wanna do today, baby?”

Reid didn’t have an answer yet—not when everything already felt perfect.

***

After breakfast, they decided to be productive. They cleaned the house and brought out the
Christmas decorations. The tree Morgan’s neighbor had gotten him from the tree farm had
been sitting bare in the living room for weeks.

Neither of them felt particularly enthusiastic about decorating, so they hung ornaments with
half-hearted effort.

But once the tree was done, they started to feel the holiday spirit. The living room lights
stayed dim, the soft glow of the tree filling the space as they settled onto the couch with their
coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, their fingers intertwined, sipping coffee as they
watched the tree lights flicker.

Morgan nudged Reid’s cheek with his nose. “So, what do you wanna eat for dinner?”

“Anything you cook.”

Morgan smiled. “Alright, let’s hit the store first, then. And you’re helping me in the kitchen.”

Reid groaned, tilting his head dramatically onto Morgan’s shoulder. “But I’m so
comfortable.”

Morgan pressed a kiss to his temple before setting his coffee down. “Come on, genius,
grocery shopping now, cuddling later.”
Reid sighed but didn’t protest when Morgan pulled him up.

Morgan tugged the hood of his jacket over his head and locked the door behind them. The
rain was coming down hard, icy droplets pelting against the pavement. Reid hunched his
shoulders and made a beeline for the car, his sneakers splashing in the puddles as he went.

Morgan slid into the driver's seat, shaking the water from his hands before starting the engine.
The heater kicked on, but the cold still clung to them.

“Think it'll turn to snow?” Morgan asked as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

“Statistically, in this region, when the temperature is below 40 degrees Fahrenheit and the
relative humidity is above 75%, there’s about a 32.4% chance of snowfall occurring within
the next three hours.”

Morgan sighed, shaking his head.

By the time they reached the grocery store, the rain had slowed to a mist, but the air was still
biting cold.

Morgan grabbed a cart, and they started toward the produce section.

While Morgan picked out fresh vegetables, Reid wandered off and returned with a box of
Jell-O.

“For dessert,” Reid said, dropping it into the cart.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You know we can make actual dessert, right? Something that
requires effort?”

“Then Jell-O for night snack,” Reid said with an endearing smile.

As he turned down another aisle, Morgan caught Reid sneaking a bag of Honey Nut Chex
Mix into the cart.

Morgan just shook his head, smiling to himself.

There was something about doing the everyday things—cleaning, taking out the trash,
cooking, or even grocery shopping in the freezing December rain—that felt right when it was
with Reid.

Like this was how life had always been.

Like this was how it was meant to be.

***
They cooked together, shared the meal, and had Jell-O for dessert. By the time they cleaned
up, it was past nine, and both were tired.

While Reid was in the shower, Morgan’s thoughts drifted back to their first month of dating.
The attraction between them had been undeniable, but Reid’s nervousness about intimacy had
made them take things slow. They cooked together as a distraction, filling their evenings with
quiet companionship. And when bedtime came, they slept side by side, holding hands—tired,
content, and satisfied.

In many ways, their situation now was similar. Morgan still struggled with erectile
dysfunction, so cooking together became a way to shift their focus away from intimacy. After
dinner, they curled up together, finding solace in each other's warmth before drifting off to
sleep in quiet comfort.

"Good night, Morgan."

"Good night, genius."

Morgan kissed Reid’s hand, his gaze lingering. A rush of affection swelled in his chest, so
intense it was almost overwhelming. They had stopped the physical intimacy, but the love he
felt for Reid had only deepened.

“Are you keeping your hair short?” Morgan’s fingers brushed through Reid’s hair.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the gentle sound of rain
pattering against the windows—steady, rhythmic, and calming, filling the space between their
breaths.

Morgan leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Reid’s lips. It started soft but quickly deepened.
Reid let out a small moan, a sound that made Morgan pause.

He pulled back, exhaling as Dr. Carter’s words echoed in his mind. “Focus on the emotional
connection,” she had advised. “Set the physical intimacy aside for now.”

Morgan pressed a gentle kiss to Reid’s forehead, whispering, “I love you,” before turning
onto his side, his back to Reid—a silent invitation to curl up against him.

Reid couldn’t sleep. He lay close, his body lightly pressed against Morgan’s, an arm draped
over his waist. Morgan’s warmth was grounding—an anchor in the quiet of the night.

Reid’s fingers moved slowly across Morgan’s back, tracing the contours of his muscles
through his shirt. Even the faintest touch reminded him of Morgan’s strength, the way his
body felt like home. He sighed softly, letting his hand drift higher.

Morgan stirred, his voice warm with amusement. “Are you drawing constellations?”
Reid laughed softly, “I’m not.”

He stopped, holding Morgan close. “Morgan…” he murmured, his voice laden with emotion.
Morgan. His love. His sanctuary. His everything.

He buried his face in Morgan’s warm neck, inhaling deeply. Desire flickered inside him, raw
and undeniable.

Reid pressed his body closer to Morgan’s, his lips finding Morgan’s neck, his breath warm
against his skin.

Morgan’s heart raced. A familiar tingling sensation spread through him—one he hadn’t felt in
nearly two months. It built quickly, matching the rapid beat of his heart.

“Reid…” Morgan hesitated, “Can you touch me?”

Reid swallowed before reaching down to Morgan’s lower body, his fingers brushing directly
against his bare skin. Morgan inhaled sharply at the sensation, his body reacting instantly. He
could feel Reid’s long, slender fingers wrapping around him. A shaky sigh left his lips, his
chest tightening.

In Reid’s hand, Morgan grew harder, his body responding to the touch. Low groans escaped
his lips, sending a shiver through Reid.

Reid’s heart pounded, breath quickening as he savored the heat against his palm, the shape
intoxicating. Reid licked his lips, his cheeks burning.

“Morgan, I want to see,” Reid whispered in his ear.

Morgan swallowed before pushing down his sweatpants and underwear.

Reid’s gaze swept over him, and he swallowed hard. In the dim light, it stood firm, a few
veins faintly visible. Reid’s breath hitched, a giddy rush coursing through him. With a light
touch, he traced one of the veins with his finger. It twitched beneath his touch.

Reid couldn’t resist. He leaned in, pressing his lips softly to the tip.

“Reid… Reid, are you sure?” Morgan’s whisper carried both surprise and restraint.

Reid was too intoxicated to answer. It was the first time he had seen Morgan this close, every
detail drawing him in.

He traced his tongue along one of the visible veins.

“Uhhh… Reid…”

Morgan let out a low groan, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to tangle them in
Reid’s hair.

Reid’s lips closed around the tip, his breath warm against Morgan’s skin.
Morgan clenched his fists against the mattress, resisting the burning urge to thrust deeper into
the heat of Reid’s mouth.

Stealing a glance, he took in the sight of his boyfriend—lips wrapped around him, eyes
closed, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. A flush colored Reid’s cheeks, his
excitement unmistakable. The image sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine.

“God, Spencer…”

He trembled, excitement surging through him.

Reid’s slow, hesitant movements only heightened Morgan’s arousal. However, Morgan’s
emotional excitement was quickly surpassing the physical stimulation he was receiving from
Reid.

His body urged him to grab Reid’s head and guide him, but Morgan’s resolve was strong,
refusing to be forceful.

“Reid... I need to finish.”

With gentle hands, Morgan eased Reid back, taking himself in his own grip.

“Reid, kiss me.”

With his other hand, Morgan cupped the back of Reid’s head, pulling him into a desperate
kiss. “Reid... Reid, kiss me. I love you.”

Soon, Morgan’s whole body tensed, and Reid could feel the moment he reached his climax.

Reid was panting as much as Morgan. He cupped Morgan’s face gently and kissed him.

“Morgan, you... did it.”

“Yeah... wow... It was intense...” Morgan murmured, his voice raw and hurried with each
labored breath. Sitting up, he pulled Reid into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“Sorry I couldn’t... make you finish.”

“Oh, no. No, no.” Morgan shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Please.”

He held Reid even closer, his voice thick with affection.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” Reid replied, his voice muffled in Morgan’s tight embrace.

When they pulled apart, their eyes met. Both flushed and smiled shyly.
The rain had stopped, almost as if it had never been there, leaving behind a peaceful silence
that settled between them.
 Genius
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 7, Episode 11. It's January 2012. Reid is 30,
Morgan is 38 years old.

“Patricia Cornwell is a fascinating author. She’s best known for her Kay Scarpetta series,
which follows a medical examiner who delves deep into forensic science to solve crimes.
What sets her books apart is how she intertwines forensics with the psychological aspects of
criminal behavior.”

Emily walked briskly through Chicago O’Hare, weaving through the crowd toward the taxi
pickup area as if sheer speed could stop Reid from talking. But no. He kept pace effortlessly,
and his words moved just as fast.

“Scarpetta isn’t just analyzing evidence—she’s trying to understand the perpetrator’s mind.
It’s a lot like what we do in profiling, but with a more clinical, forensic approach.”

“Reid.”

“Yeah?”

“How does Morgan stop you from rambling?”

Reid blinked, processing.

“He doesn’t.” Then, with a sudden grin, he added, “He’s been nicer since we had that big
fight in Vegas.”

Emily raised an eyebrow.

“And you,” Reid continued, “have to be nice to me too.”

“Why’s that?” Her tone was flat, unimpressed.

“You know you owe me for the rest of your life, right? For faking your death?”

Emily shot him an exasperated look. He just grinned wider and slipped his arm through hers.

She rolled her eyes but patted his arm like an indulgent sister.

At the taxi stand, they stood in a short queue, their reflection visible in the airport’s glass
walls.
Reid tilted his head, studying their image. “Do you think we look like a couple?”

“No.” Emily’s answer was immediate.

“You didn’t even think for a second.”

“I don’t have to. You still have that teen vibe, Doctor, and I’m forty-one.”

Reid pursed his lips. Instead of arguing, he smoothly picked up where he’d left off.

“You know, Cornwell’s writing is incredibly detailed, almost to the point of being technical,
but that’s what makes it so gripping. She’s also faced some personal challenges that seep into
her work, adding layers of emotional depth to her stories.”

Emily groaned.

They were in Chicago for a two-day Violent Crimes Seminar as guests hosted by Patricia
Cornwell herself. The event was being held at the Loews Chicago Hotel, where they’d also
be staying the night.

Reid was thrilled to have two full days alone with his favorite sister. Emily had her doubts.

***

The hotel ballroom was a vast, elegantly decorated space. Round tables filled the room,
occupied by attentive listeners focused on the elevated stage. At the podium, Patricia
Cornwell wrapped up her speech to a warm round of applause.

Seated beside her, Reid and Emily waited for their turn to speak. As the clapping subsided,
Patricia turned toward them with a smile.

“In the end, I just write about violent crime. The real heroes are the people here beside me.
Now, give a warm welcome to our next speaker, Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU.”

Reid stood, adjusting his tie as the audience clapped again. At the podium, he cleared his
throat.

“Thank you. Thanks. Um... Ms. Cornwell will be signing books at the end of the session.”

The microphone screeched as he adjusted it, making him flinch.

“Sorry. Uh. H-Hi. I’m here today to talk to you about...”

His voice pitched higher than intended, and Emily’s brows creased with concern.

“...paraphilias and their relation to violent crime. Does anyone know what dendrophilia is?”

A ripple of uncertainty passed through the audience. Silence.

Reid’s eyes twinkled. “It’s a fetish for trees.”

More silence. The atmosphere grew awkward, uncertain. Emily bit her lip.

Reid wrapped up his talk to hesitant applause and sank back into his seat.

Then Emily stood. She approached the podium with a practiced ease, offering the audience a
confident, inviting smile.

“Good evening, everyone. My name is Emily Prentiss, and I’m honored to be here tonight
alongside some truly brilliant minds.”

Her voice was warm yet steady.

“Like many of you in this room, I’ve spent years trying to understand the worst of human
behavior—not just the how, but the why. Because if we can understand that, maybe we can
stop it.”

She scanned the audience, making eye contact.

Reid watched her with quiet pride. The room, which had been stiff with awkwardness just
moments ago, was now engaged.

Emily concluded her speech.

“That’s why we’re here tonight—to talk, to question, to challenge what we think we know.
And maybe, just maybe, to walk away with a deeper understanding of what it takes to make
the world just a little bit safer.”

Applause erupted.

After the seminar, Emily was quickly surrounded by attendees eager to ask questions. Reid
lingered near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly, clutching the strap of his messenger
bag.

Emily caught sight of him quietly pushing the ballroom door open and slipping out.

When she finally stepped outside, she spotted Reid in conversation with a young man—early
twenties, maybe.

As the man walked off, Emily strolled up beside Reid. “You’ve got a fan?” she teased.

Reid watched the young man disappear into the crowd. “That was the founder of Nanovex.”

Emily frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“Nanovex,” Reid repeated, eyes lighting up. “The company Landis Pharmaceuticals is
investing a hundred million dollars in. They make magnetically responsive nanoparticles for
targeted drug delivery to tumor cells.” His voice brimmed with excitement.

Emily blinked. “That kid is the founder?”

“He’s gonna change the world,” Reid murmured, still watching him go.

Emily tilted her head. “Did he come to get some advice from his genius senior?”

Reid hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “No. He told me to keep up the good work.”

Emily paused, not sure how to respond. “Oh.”

Reid smiled awkwardly, his gaze shifting to the floor before he stuffed his hands into his
pockets.

***

Reid and Emily found an Indian restaurant just around the corner from the hotel and decided
to have dinner there.

Indian Garden had a cozy, inviting atmosphere. The soft glow of hanging lanterns lit up the
warm, earth-toned walls, and the scent of spices filled the air. Plush booths lined the walls,
with intricate tapestries adding a touch of exotic charm to the decor.

Emily removed her coat, having changed into something more comfortable. Reid blinked at
her low-cut V-neck sweater.

She focused on the menu, but soon noticed Reid’s gaze lingering a little too long.

“Reid.”

“Hm?” Reid blinked, looking up at Emily. “Sorry, what? What did you say?”

“What are you eating?”

“Uh...” Reid hurriedly opened the menu, furrowing his brow.

Emily cleared her throat and began impersonating him.

“Men unconsciously look at cleavage due to a combination of biological and neurological

factors. Neurologically, the brain's reward system is wired to respond to visual stimuli
associated with reproduction, activating areas like the ventral striatum and orbitofrontal
cortex.”

Reid’s jaw dropped.

“Are you... doing me?”

“Who else?” Emily grinned, continuing, “This behavior is often unconscious, driven by
automatic visual processing rather than deliberate thought.”

Realizing he’d been caught staring, Reid went crimson with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice small.

Emily chuckled. “No, Reid, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help teasing you.”

Reid smiled awkwardly, still blushing.

After they ordered their food, Emily asked, “So? How are you?”

“Good.”

“How are things with Derek?”

“Pretty good.” Reid let out a bashful smile.

Emily smiled back. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Reid hesitated before
speaking again.

“Emily.”

“Yeah?”

“Does Morgan talk to you about me?”

“He does. A lot. I can’t stand his dopey lovesick look.”

Reid laughed, but then asked again, more timidly, “Does he talk to you about sex?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Not really.”

Then she added, “But I can tell he’s very satisfied.”

Reid’s face turned red. After a moment, he got up the courage to ask, “I wonder what he
thinks about penetrative sex.”

Emily nearly spilled her water but quickly regained her composure, trying to stay cool for
Reid’s sake.

“You haven’t...?” she asked.

“No,” Reid shook his head, looking down.

“Reid,” Emily leaned in, her tone turning serious. “If you feel even the slightest pressure to
do something you don’t want, you have to tell him.”

“Oh, no. I don’t feel pressured... I just... I just keep thinking about it lately. Keep wondering
how it would feel...” Reid’s face flushed again.

Emily paused, realization dawning on her. “You want to try it?”

“Maybe...”

“Then what’s the problem?” Emily laughed softly, amused.

“I’m curious, but it’s scary,” Reid admitted. “I don’t know how painful it would be. And...
honestly, I feel shy.”

Emily gave a knowing nod, then leaned in with a playful smile. “There’s only one piece of
advice I can give you.”

“What?”

“Buy lubricant.”

Reid’s eyes widened, his face turning crimson once again.

***

That night, Reid tossed and turned in his hotel bed, unable to quiet his thoughts.

Lying on his side, he clutched a pillow, imagining Morgan pressed against him from behind.
Just the thought of Morgan’s fingers gently spreading lubricant over the spot made him shiver
—excitement and embarrassment curling through his body.

And then, Morgan would slowly push inside him.

Ow…

Reid could almost feel the pain. He clutched the pillow tighter, his breath hitching. It would
hurt for sure, but then—then Morgan would sink in deeper, filling him completely. The
thought sent a shudder down his spine, a heady mix of nervous anticipation and intoxicating
want.

Morgan would be so gentle. He wouldn’t move right away—he’d hold still, afraid of hurting
me. His body would tense, maybe even tremble, fighting the urge to move. Instead, he’d
touch me…

Reid’s fingers curled around himself.

And he would whisper love in my ear.

A soft moan slipped past his lips as he stroked himself, lost in the fantasy. His breath turned
ragged as pleasure built, his imagination running wild. Morgan’s hands gripping his hips. A
slow, deep thrust—

“Ahhh… Morgan…!”

Reid came with a sharp gasp, his body tensing before melting into the sheets. He lay there,
panting, warmth pooling in his chest. He’d pleasured himself before, but it had never felt
quite like this.

***
The next morning, as Reid and Emily ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Emily’s phone
rang. She answered, listening intently before responding.

“Okay. Yeah. We’ll head there right away.”

Reid looked up. “New case?”

Emily nodded, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “We have to cut the seminar short.
We’re meeting the team in San Francisco.”

Reid set down his coffee. “Is it bad?”

Emily exhaled. “The Zodiac is back.”

Reid’s expression darkened.

***

Reid and Emily arrived at the crime scene before noon.

“How was the conference?” JJ asked.

“Enlightening,” Reid said half-heartedly, scanning the area for Morgan.

Noticing, JJ offered, “Morgan and Rossi went to meet the detective who handled the Zodiac
case in the ’70s.”

After the crime scene investigation, Reid murmured, “It’s not the real Zodiac.”

He requested a local officer to print out a physical copy of today’s online newspaper,
including all the reader comments.

If this was a Zodiac copycat, the unsub would have sent a coded message to the police.

Reid welcomed the distraction of the case—the unsub was highly intelligent, and deciphering
the encrypted code demanded his full concentration.

Hotch entered the office at the local precinct. “Reid, how’s it going?”

“Computers slow me down, so I prefer paper,” Reid replied, eyes scanning the pages. “But I
wasn’t expecting this many comments. Where do people find the time?”

Then, his expression shifted.

“I think I found a cipher from the unsub,” he said, tracing symbols buried within spam
messages. “They match the ones the Zodiac used in his first message back in 1969.”

Hotch’s voice tensed. “What does it say?”

Reid read as he decoded, “‘Killing is the most fun you can have. 98 minutes below the
horizon in Magic City with President Garfield. Happy hunting.’”
Hotch immediately called Garcia. “Garcia, what specific location does ‘Magic City’ refer
to?”

“Birmingham, Alabama.”

Reid’s brow furrowed. “‘98 minutes below the horizon’… Garcia, what time is sunset there
tonight?”

“6:22 p.m.”

“That’s 8:00 p.m. Garcia, is there anything in San Francisco dedicated to President Garfield?”

Fingers flying across the keyboard, Garcia replied, “There’s a statue of him in Golden Gate
Park.”

The team rushed to the location, but 8:00 p.m. came and went without incident—except for a
lone man who approached, looking confused as he handed over an envelope. “Some guy paid
me to deliver this,” he said before walking away.

“It’s for Reid,” JJ said, handing it to him.

Inside was a single sheet of paper with a typed message that read,

[You're not as smart as you think you are.]

Reid clenched his jaw.

“He’s playing a game with me,” he murmured.

***

Emily and Reid stayed at a different hotel from the rest of the team. Reid and Morgan barely
had time to talk—they simply exchanged a quick hug and kiss before heading off to their
respective hotels.

Emily noticed a slight shift in Reid’s mood. It wasn’t irritation or anything negative, but he
seemed quieter, more thoughtful.

The next morning, Emily found Reid at a café just down the street from the hotel. He was
still engrossed in decoding the same comment section.

“Hey,” Emily said, sitting across from him. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Reid kept his focus on the paper, furrowing his brow without making eye contact.

“Reid, it’s me.”

Reid finally stopped and put his pen down. He looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ve lived up to expectations?” he asked.

“I beat them. I figured I'd be a bored socialite by 25,” Emily shrugged.

“I thought I’d cure schizophrenia by the time I was 25.”

Emily’s expression softened, and she lowered her gaze slightly. Reid continued.

“You know, when I was a kid, people told me I could do anything.”

“You’re afraid you’ve let people down?” Emily frowned.

“No. I’m afraid I’ve let myself down.”

“By not curing schizophrenia?” Emily asked.

“No, just because…” He hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know why I’m in the FBI.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I see. You’re a genius, but you have the same job as me, Morgan,
JJ…”

“Yeah, exactly.” Reid tried to stay serious but chuckled. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

Emily smiled in response.

“It’s just... sometimes, I get this feeling that I’m not doing enough with my life.”

“How old are you? 29?”

“I'm 30,” Reid corrected her.

Emily blinked. “No way. We missed your birthday?”

“By the time Nikola Tesla was 30, he’d already invented the induction motor. And here I am,
30 years old, and all I’ve been thinking about lately is whether I should try penetrative sex
with Morgan.”

Emily quickly looked down, biting her lip.

“It’s okay, Emily. You can laugh,” Reid sighed. “I’m no longer a child prodigy anyway.”

“You’re a healthy young man with healthy urges,” Emily teased.

Reid gave her a sulky expression.

Emily shrugged. “You know what? You might be right. You don’t hear that much about child
prodigies once they grow up. In fact, most of them turn out average.” She eyed him with
mock sympathy.

Reid scoffed, “Are you trying reverse psychology with me?”

Emily snatched the paper in front of Reid.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you just told me yourself you’re washed up. I should take a look at this.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Emily ignored him and started drawing lines and circles, making Reid fluster.

“Seriously, what are you doing?”

“I’m just seeing if you missed anything.”

“Don’t—you're gonna mess it up. Emily! Give it back.”

Reid snatched the paper back, scowling as he looked at it. Then something clicked.

“Wait a minute, that’s it.” Reid stared at the paper intensely. “It had to be converted from
matrix code to binary code, then switched to base 8 before being translated back into letters.”

He looked up at Emily.

“The real code is in the words. China Weekly Post, page F-4.”

“There you go, genius,” Emily smirked.

Reid’s concentration was undeterred. Back at the local police station, he put the papers and
memos on the board. Even when Morgan entered the room, it didn’t break his focus. He was
muttering to himself constantly.

“Nothing is accidental. Nothing this unsub does is accidental. The message in the ‘China
Weekly Post’ was on page F-4. Why F-4?”

“That’s where the classifieds were,” Morgan pointed out.

Reid shook his head, “It’s more than that.”

Reid asked the local tech analyst to digitally overlay a chess grid over the map of the crime
scenes.

“Can you rotate that?” Reid asked, staring at the screen.

“See, F-4 is a chess square.”

“He murdered people according to a chess game?” JJ frowned.

“Specifically game 6 of Fischer versus Spassky in 1972. One of the greatest chess matches
ever played. The murder locations correspond with the final 3 moves of the game.”

The team quickly identified the location of the next murder.

The victim was saved, and the unsub was arrested.

***

The next day, back at Quantico, Emily caught Reid just as he was stepping out of the
elevator.

“Hey, Reid. Um, Hotch wants to talk to you.”

Reid groaned. “He probably wants to talk to me about why I’ve been so... off lately.”

“Still wondering why you’re in the FBI?” Emily teased.

Reid’s expression softened. “I don’t know... I’m still not sure if I’m living up to expectations,
but...”

He paused, thinking it through. “I realized there’s something just...incredibly right about

being here.” He smiled, his voice warm, “With all of you.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Emily said, smiling as she walked beside him.

“Otherwise, this would’ve been really awkward.”

“What would’ve been really awkward?”

Emily grinned, opening the door to the meeting room.

Suddenly, the room erupted in unison with loud cheers, “Happy Birthday!”

The room was filled with claps, laughter, and happy shouts.

One by one, the team gathered around Reid, each giving him a hug.

JJ was the first. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Reid said with a soft smile.

“Do you feel like 30?” Hotch grinned.

Rossi grabbed Reid’s face, planting big kisses on both cheeks.

Then, Garcia wrapped him in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, my favorite doctor!”

When it was Morgan’s turn, both men exchanged a small, bashful laugh. “Happy birthday,
old man,” Morgan teased, pulling Reid into a tight hug. Reid groaned playfully. “Ohh.”

As they pulled away, Morgan kissed him on the lips. “I love you.”

Reid’s smile widened as he blew out the candles on his cake. Cheers echoed in the room.

Emily handed Reid a present in a sleek black bag. “Don’t open it in front of Derek.”
Reid raised an eyebrow, spotting Morgan chatting with JJ. “Why?” he whispered, peeking
inside.

There was a deep black box with a foil-stamped silver logo, and it felt like there was a glass
bottle inside.

“Is it perfume?”

“Nope. Look at the label.” Emily’s grin turned mischievous.

The logo read ‘Glide’, with the subtle tagline:

[Luxury Lubrication Ultimate Sensation]

Reid’s eyes widened, and he immediately turned a shade of red. He glanced at Emily,
completely flustered.

“For my genius brother,” she winked.

 Lubricant
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 13. It’s February 2012. Reid
is 30, Morgan is 38 years old.

Reid sat alone at his desk in his apartment, turning the bottle of lubricant over in his hands
like it was an intricate theorem he couldn’t quite solve. Frosted glass, slim and elegant—it
looked almost out of place among his things. Emily had given it to him as a birthday gift, a
teasing gesture, but now, it felt like a symbol of his secret desire.

Ever since Morgan’s recovery from PED, it was like a floodgate had opened between them.
Their connection had only grown stronger, their intimacy deeper. They were more passionate,
more attuned to each other, yet there was always an invisible line neither had crossed.
Penetration had never been suggested, never even acknowledged aloud.

Reid knew Morgan would never pressure him—he had spent the past two years and nine
months making that clear—but now that Reid was ready, he had no idea how to tell him. How
did someone casually introduce a bottle of lube into a relationship?

Reid closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and began running through a few simulations.

Simulation #1: The Casual Approach

Reid pictured himself sitting on the couch, completely relaxed, when Morgan walked in,
fresh from his morning jog.

“Hey,” Morgan greeted, leaning down to kiss him.

“Hey,” Reid replied, totally smooth. Then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he
lifted the bottle and held it up between them.

“So, I was thinking we could try this.”

Morgan blinked, staring at the bottle.

“What's that? Lotion?” He took it from Reid’s hand.

Morgan read the label (Luxury Lubrication, Ultimate Sensation) and his expression froze. His
eyebrows shot up. His face flushed.

“Reid...”

Morgan just stared at him.

Reid felt heat creeping up his neck. Stay cool. Stay cool. He pursed his lips, trying to recover.

“What do you mean, ‘we could try this’?” Morgan asked.

“Wh...wh... what do I mean? Uh...” Reid’s brain short-circuited, blinking rapidly. His
composure shattered like glass.

Abort mission.

Back in reality, Reid buried his face in his hands. No. This doesn’t work.

Simulation #2: The Seductive Approach

Casual wasn’t the right move. Maybe he needed to own it. Be confident. Seductive.

He imagined Morgan’s bedroom—dimly lit, cozy.

Reid pictured himself wearing something enticing—maybe even just Morgan’s shirt,
unbuttoned just enough. He reclined on the bed with effortless sensuality (which was already
a stretch, but this was fantasy).

Morgan walked in.

“Hey...” Reid murmured, running a finger along the bottle’s frosted glass. “I was thinking...
tonight, we try something new.”

Morgan was distracted by the shirt Reid was wearing.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Morgan frowned, confused. “But why my dress shirt?”

He grabbed his clean T-shirt and tossed it to Reid. “Wear this. It's more comfortable.”

“M...Morgan, I... I was just, uh...”

As Reid stammered, Morgan picked up the bottle without thinking and read the label.

His brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes widened. His gaze turned to Reid. Mouth
agape. Flustered.
He suddenly realized why Reid was wearing that oversized dress shirt, unbuttoned.

“Reid... Wow. Okay... Were you trying to...?”

Reid froze. The embarrassment hit like a wave. He wanted to evaporate.

End scene. Complete disaster.

Reid rubbed his face. No. That was a terrible idea.

Simulation #3: The Indirect Approach

Maybe he didn’t need to say anything. Maybe he could just... place it somewhere. Let
Morgan notice it himself and connect the dots.

He imagined himself in the bedroom again, carefully setting the bottle on the bedside table.

Morgan walked in after shower.

Reid pretended to be absorbed in a book, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Morgan pick
up the bottle, read the label. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Reid could almost hear Morgan’s brain whirring, recalibrating everything. His expression
shifted between disbelief, delight, and absolute speechlessness.

Reid’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Reid.”

Reid flinched, heart leaping into his throat. “Wh-what?”

“Is this yours?” Morgan asked, holding up the bottle.

Reid flung himself off the bed, snatched the bottle from Morgan, and ran.

Back in reality, Reid groaned loudly, collapsing back into his chair. This was impossible.
Every scenario led to inevitable, unbearable embarrassment.

Without another thought, he shoved the bottle back into its box, opened his desk drawer, and
shoved it inside. He slammed the drawer shut, his face burning.

***

“Dr. Spencer Reid. I finally found you.”

Morgan grinned as he sat next to Reid, who was playing the slot machine in the hotel lobby
with little enthusiasm.

“Winning anything?”

“Nothing big yet.”

The case in Atlantic City was almost wrapped up. The serial killer had been caught in the
casino earlier that night. Tomorrow morning, the team would finalize forensic reports and
coordinate evidence handover with the local police before heading back to Quantico.

“Are there ways to cheat at slot machines? Like, mathematically?”

“Not really.” His answer was blunt.

Morgan studied Reid, his eyes narrowing.

“You okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Why?”

Morgan sighed, leaning back. “I feel like you’ve been holding something back from me.”

Reid didn’t answer.

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Reid.”

“Well, you didn’t come see me in my room last night.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you talking to Rossi when I was heading to my room, and it was already past eleven.”

“You went to Garcia’s place after midnight the night before.” Reid pointed out, giving him a
sidelong glance.

“I told you. That night, she had a fight with Kevin, needed some emotional support, so I
watched a movie with her.”

Reid’s gaze flickered back to the slot machine, uninterested.

“You’re just looking for excuses to be moody with me. What’s really going on?”

Reid finally turned to Morgan. But then, the moment their eyes met, suddenly his face
flushed. He swallowed hard.
I know that face... Morgan thought. It was the same flush Reid had in bed when he shyly
asked for... oral. Morgan’s own face warmed at the memory.

Morgan asked hesitantly. “Are you feeling horny?”

“No!”

Reid’s reply was louder than he’d meant it to be. He stood abruptly.

“Um... I’m going back to my room. Good night, Morgan.”

“Can I come over later?”

“No. I think... I think I’m gonna sleep.”

***

Morgan sighed as he lay on the bed in his hotel room. Moments like this came every now and
then—when he felt completely lost trying to understand Reid’s mind.

For one thing, Reid wasn’t a great communicator. Especially when it involved his own
emotions. And second, his quirks and unintentional awkwardness often made things even
more puzzling.

The sudden ring of his phone made Morgan jolt. He grabbed it quickly.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk?” Reid’s voice was tense, nervous.

Morgan’s heart sank. “Sure. I’ll come over.”

“No. Phone is better, actually.”

Morgan frowned. “Reid, you’re scaring me.”

“I’ve practiced saying this so many times, but it never went well.”

Morgan sat up, his pulse picking up. “Saying what?”

Reid didn't answer.

Morgan closed his eyes and exhaled, bracing himself.

“Okay, Reid. Just say what you need to say.”

“Morgan.”

“Yeah.”

A sharp inhale on the other end. Then—

“I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.”

Morgan blinked. “What?”

Silence.

He blinked again, brain momentarily offline.

“Okay. Bye.”

“Wait—wait! Reid!” Morgan jerked upright.

“Can you say that again? I need to make sure I heard you right.”

Another shaky breath from Reid. Then, softer—

“I want to feel you inside me.”

A bolt of electricity shot through Morgan’s chest.

“Reid, I need to see you.”

“No! Not now!” Reid’s voice came back, outright panicked. “I’m... I’m not prepared. I didn’t
bring the... the…”

Morgan had no idea what he meant, but that could wait. Right now, he just needed to hold
him.

“Reid, I just want to hug you.”

“Oh. Um... okay.”

A few minutes later, Reid opened the door, fidgeting slightly. He tried for a small smile, but
his eyes flickered away, too shy to make eye contact.

Morgan stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, exhaling against his shoulder.

“Reid…” He shook his head, his grip tightening.

“Was it really that hard to say?”

“Very.”

“You practiced?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Morgan let out a breathless laugh, overwhelmed with affection. “Oh God... Spencer.”

He pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing a stray lock off Reid’s forehead. “You
said you didn’t bring something. What was it?”
Reid swallowed. Then, barely above a whisper—

“Lube.”

Morgan flushed. Suddenly, the full reality of it hit him.

They slowly pulled apart, both of them red-faced.

Morgan cleared his throat. “Next Saturday?” His voice was gentle.

Reid nodded, eyes still downcast.

Morgan smiled. “Okay.”

 Finally...
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 15. It's February 2012. Reid
is 30, Morgan is 38.

The FBI Tactical Firearms Training Center was silent, save for the sound of boots moving in
calculated precision across the training ground. The simulation was designed to mimic a real
mission—dark, tense, and merciless.

SSA Emily Prentiss moved fluidly at the front, her senses razor-sharp as she signaled to the
three trainees behind her. The trainees—Valdez, Franklin, and Maxwell—followed, their
breaths steady but nerves on edge. SSA Derek Morgan brought up the rear, covering their
movements as they advanced. They were fully geared, weapons at the ready, moving in
coordinated silence through the mock hostile environment.

They communicated with hand signals, sweeping each section of the training arena. They
reached a critical junction—a doorway leading into a darkened room. Valdez was up. He
moved in, scanning quickly.

Then—

Gunfire.

The simulated rounds exploded through the air. The room filled with the sudden, deafening
sound of shots. Then—

Lights on.

The simulation was over.

Morgan pulled off his headgear, his gaze locking onto Valdez. His voice was thick with
sarcasm. “Nice job, Valdez. You just got your whole team killed.”

Valdez’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

Morgan’s expression hardened. “You're damn right you're sorry. Franklin’s wife is pregnant.
Maxwell over there just got engaged. Wedding’s in May, right?” He didn’t wait for
confirmation, his voice sharp. “It’s too bad you won’t make it.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Valdez and Morgan, sensing the weight of
the moment.
“I thought I cleared the room,” Valdez murmured.

Morgan’s voice cracked like a whip. “You didn’t check the door. You missed the hidden
threat.”

Emily interjected, her tone measured. “I should have covered him.”

Morgan shook his head. “No, Prentiss. You’re on point. It’s his job to cover you.” His
attention snapped back to Valdez. “And when you don’t do your job, Valdez, people die.
Now, if you're not ready to shoulder that responsibility, then maybe you need to reconsider
joining the Bureau.”

With that, Morgan turned and strode away.

Valdez’s voice was small. “I said I was sorry, all right?”

Morgan halted. He turned back, his expression unwavering. “I heard you. But out in the field,
sorry doesn’t bring people back.”

The trainees cast their gazes downward, absorbing the lesson in silence.

Morgan exhaled, “We’re done today.”

Then he walked away.

***

“Morgan.”

At the BAU, Emily caught up to him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

The tension Morgan had carried earlier was gone now, his tone softer.

“You were a little hard on Valdez. He’s just a new agent trainee.”

“He made a fatal mistake,” Morgan said, unapologetic.

Emily exhaled. “He looks up to you. I’m just saying, maybe you could build his confidence,
not break it.”

Morgan didn’t waver. “Imagine how he’d feel if that had been real.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that. But the course is designed to force failure. That’s how they learn.”

“And my job is to train them, not be their friend.”

Emily shook her head. “Look, I know you’re doing the tough love thing, but they don’t know
you like I do.”

Morgan started to argue but stopped, letting out a quiet sigh. Emily studied him, her
expression softening.

She understood why he was so strict in training.

More than anyone, Morgan knew the weight of an officer’s life—and how fragile it was. He
had watched his father, a police officer, get shot and killed right in front of him. In the BAU,
he’d taken command in the field more than anyone, survived countless shootouts, and seen
too many good people fall. When it came to tactical training, there was no room for
compromise. That was when the strictest side of Morgan came out.

Just then, Reid walked past, coffee in hand. He wore a white shirt and red tie under a black
cardigan, and for a moment, Morgan’s focus shifted entirely. Emily didn’t miss it.

“Hey, guys,” Reid greeted as he passed.

“Hey.” Morgan kept it casual.

Emily, however, saw the way his face softened, how his gaze lingered on Reid’s back a beat
too long.

She knew when the softest side of Morgan came out, too.

She smirked.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Nothing.”

***

Morgan got home after 8 p.m., tossed his keys onto the counter, patted Clooney, and plopped
onto the couch with a hamburger.

The past few days had been packed. On top of his regular workload, he’d been leading
tactical training and teaching JJ hand-to-hand combat, leaving him with barely a moment to
himself.

Now, finally alone, he opened his laptop.

He was surprised to see a reply from the American Sexual Health Association (ASHA) so
quickly. Wiping his hands after finishing his burger, he clicked on the email, anxious to read
it.

Subject: RE: Questions About First-Time Penetrative Sex with My Partner

Dear Mr. Morgan,

Thank you for reaching out with such thoughtful and considerate questions. It’s great to hear
that you’re prioritizing your partner’s comfort and are open to exploring at his pace.

If your partner wants to try penetrative sex while minimizing discomfort and maximizing
pleasure, here are some key steps to take:

Preparation

1. Talk Openly – Make sure he feels no pressure. Let him know he can stop anytime, and the
goal is mutual pleasure, not just penetration.

2. Understand His Body – Since this is his first time, it might take some experimenting to
find what feels good for him.

3. Prostate Stimulation – If he's comfortable, gentle external or internal stimulation with

fingers before penetration can help associate the experience with pleasure.

During Intimacy

1. Go Slow & Use Plenty of Lube – Water-based or silicone-based lubricant is essential.

Apply generously.

2. Start Small – Begin with fingers, letting him adjust before progressing. He should guide
the pace.

3. Least Painful Positions

Side-Lying (Spoon)
He lies on his side while you position yourself behind him.
・Why it's good: This keeps his body relaxed, reduces muscle strain, and allows for slow,
controlled penetration.
・Tips: Have him keep his legs slightly bent to open up access, and use plenty of lube.

Missionary with Legs Supported

He lies on his back with his legs spread or resting on your thighs.
・Why it's good: You can go very slow, maintaining eye contact and adjusting based on his
reactions.
・Tips: Place a pillow under his lower back for better comfort and angle.

4. No Pressure to Continue – If he wants to stop at any point, honor that immediately.

If you or your partner have any concerns, scheduling a telehealth consultation with a sexual
health professional might be helpful.

Please don’t hesitate to reach out with any other questions. Wishing you both a safe and
positive experience!
Best regards,
Dr. Sean Mitchell
Certified Sexual Health Educator
American Sexual Health Association (ASHA)

Morgan read the entire email without pausing, then exhaled, running a hand over his face.

— “I want to feel you inside me.”

Reid’s voice echoed in Morgan’s mind, and he flushed with a warm, embarrassed rush. That
had to be the best way Reid could put it.

Later, lying in bed, Morgan couldn’t shake the thoughts racing through his mind. His body
ached for Reid.

He imagined them in the positions from the email.

Spoon must be easy for us. Morgan thought. It was how they spent their first month together,
their bodies pressed close, warm breath mingling in the quiet of their shared space. Even
now, many nights, it was where they ended up—his arm around Reid, the steady beat of their
hearts in sync.

But tonight, Morgan’s mind wandered further. He swallowed hard as he imagined sliding into
Reid, the thought of their bodies coming together in such a way sending a wave of heat
through him. His breath hitched in his throat as the image consumed him.

Then, missionary—the thought of it nearly made him tremble. Reid beneath him, vulnerable
yet wanting, his legs spread, eyes flickering between shyness and trust.

Morgan’s chest tightened as the vivid image of Reid—flushed and nervous, but undeniably
craving it—played over and over in his mind.

“Reid…” Morgan groaned, his voice thick with desire. “God, you’re so hot.” He rubbed his
face again.

His body refused to calm down, every muscle aching with the need. With a frustrated sigh, he
slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom to take care of himself.

Tomorrow was finally Saturday.

***

Reid blinked in surprise to find Morgan in his house.

“I thought you’d be out jogging.”

“Already went.”

Morgan had woken up much earlier than usual—maybe from excitement. By now, he’d
already finished his run, taken a shower, and even made coffee for Reid.

“Reid.”

Morgan’s hands came up, cupping Reid’s face with a gentleness that made Reid’s breath
catch. Morgan’s lips met his in a slow, tender kiss, warm and careful, as if savoring the first
taste.

When Morgan pulled away, Reid wasn’t ready to let go. He followed, pressing forward,
chasing the contact with a quiet urgency. His hands gripped Morgan’s shoulders, fingers
tightening as he kissed back, seeking more, needing more.

Morgan responded. His hands slid to the back of Reid’s head, fingers threading into his hair
as he deepened the kiss.

Reid’s tongue pushed forward, testing, shy. Morgan groaned softly, then sucked on it,
drawing it in. The sensation sent a shiver down Reid’s spine, a moan escaping before he
could stop it. Morgan swallowed the sound, the kiss turning hotter, more consuming.

They stayed like that, tangled in each other, lips parting only to meet again, each kiss melting
into the next. Heat built between them, nervous excitement giving way to raw need.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads nearly touched, breaths mingling in the space
between them. Reid’s lips were swollen, Morgan’s own slightly parted, both of them caught
in the gravity of what was about to happen. Their eyes met—full of emotion, full of want.

“Let’s go to bed.” Morgan murmured.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Reid said hesitantly—but not in protest.

“We don’t know when we’ll get a call from work”

“Right.”

Then, Reid rummaged through his bag, pulled out a small bottle, and handed it to Morgan.
“Don’t ask questions.”

Morgan took it, glancing down. “‘Glide’?” He read the label aloud without thinking—then
immediately regretted it, heat rushing to his face. Of course, it was lube.

The bottle was glass, heavy and smooth, with a silver twist-off cap. It felt expensive.

“Where did you even buy this?”

“Don’t ask questions.” Reid repeated, already disappearing into the bedroom.
Morgan followed, heart pounding.

They sat on the bed, lips meeting again. Then, slowly, Morgan began to undress Reid.

Morgan’s hands were steady, but his breath wasn’t. He exhaled slowly as he worked each
button of Reid’s shirt, pushing the fabric from his shoulders with a touch so careful it almost
felt reverent.

Reid swallowed. Blinked. Wet his lips. Then did it again. His chest rose and fell too quickly,
and Morgan could feel the nervous energy crackling off of him.

“You know you can stop anytime, right?”

Morgan gazed into Reid’s eyes. “When it’s uncomfortable or painful, I need you to tell me,
okay? Don’t keep it in.”

Reid gave a small, jerky nod.

Then, after a brief hesitation, Reid awkwardly rolled onto his stomach, stiff as a board,
bracing himself like he was expecting some grand impact.

Morgan blinked, and then—he couldn’t help it—he let out a quiet, affectionate laugh.

Reid turned his head just enough to shoot him a sharp look over his shoulder. “What?”

Morgan ran a soothing hand down the length of Reid’s back, still grinning. “Not like that,
baby. Turn over.” He gently urged Reid onto his back, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “We’ll
take our time.”

Morgan started with kisses—soft, lingering ones that trailed down Reid’s throat, along his
collarbone, and lower still. He brushed his lips over a nipple, teasing with the faintest flick of
his tongue, and felt Reid’s breath hitch.

He continued, hands gliding down, tracing over sharp hipbones before skimming along the
sensitive skin of Reid’s inner thighs. He pressed a kiss there, feeling the way Reid tensed,
then slowly melted. His hands roamed with careful intent, until he felt Reid relax by degrees
beneath him.

Reid’s head felt fuzzy, dazed with sensation, but the unfamiliar scent of lubricant cut through
the haze, sending a fresh wave of nervous excitement fluttering in his chest.

When Morgan’s fingers found him, slick with lube, Reid inhaled sharply.

“Okay?” Morgan whispered, pressing his lips against the side of Reid’s face, his voice a
steady anchor.

Reid nodded, but his body was still coiled tight. Morgan kissed his shoulder, his throat, the
side of his jaw, while his fingers moved with infinite patience, coaxing him into ease. He kept
whispering soft reassurances, kept holding him close.
And when he felt Reid finally start to relax beneath his touch, the tension finally beginning to
ebb, he murmured against his ear, “Spooning might be easier for you. Less painful. Is that
okay?”

Reid hesitated, then nodded again, and Morgan helped him shift, wrapping an arm around
him from behind. He buried his face into Reid’s hair, breathing him in. Then he held Reid’s
hips gently.

Morgan trembled—he trembled with the sheer anticipation of it, his body tight with need—
but he forced himself to stay slow, to stay controlled, because Reid was the priority. Always.

Finally, Morgan slowly sank into Reid, inch by inch.

Reid’s body went rigid, a sharp hitch in his breath, and his fingers curled tightly around the
sheets.

Morgan stilled immediately. “Reid? Does it hurt?”

It did. More than he expected. A deep, burning stretch sent a shudder through him. Sweat
slicked his skin, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. But beneath the discomfort,
something else stirred—a dizzying, all-consuming sensation that made his pulse stutter.

“Keep going,” Reid rasped, his voice rough with need.

Morgan moved slowly. For him, the sensation was overwhelming, hot and impossibly tight,
and the pleasure of it nearly made his head spin. Morgan groaned softly.

Reid let out a shuddering moan, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure.

It wasn’t physical pleasure, but the intimacy of it—the sheer vulnerability of surrendering to
Morgan, of being taken completely, of feeling him inside...

It was exhilarating. Breathtaking. Overwhelming.

Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them.

No. No, don’t cry. Don’t. Morgan is gonna freak out.

But the tears spilled anyway.

Morgan felt the hitch in Reid’s breath. Then the tremor in his shoulders.

“Reid?” Morgan’s body snapped into full awareness. He pulled away instantly, the pleasure
vanishing in a flash of panic. “Reid.”

Morgan shifted, trying to see Reid’s expression.

“Reid...you...you're crying.” Morgan looked like he was about to cry, too. “Did I hurt you?”
Reid shook his head. “No. I mean—yes, but that’s not why I’m—” He made a helpless sound,
swiping at his face. “I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe I’m just—overwhelmingly
happy?”

Morgan stared at him, his chest tightening at the sight. Then, slowly, he gathered Reid in his
arms, holding him close, his lips pressing against his temple. Morgan’s voice was thick,
unsteady. “I love you.”

Reid let out a wet, breathy laugh, pressing his forehead against Morgan’s. “In my fantasy, this
was more sexy and wild.”

Morgan chuckled, brushing a thumb over Reid’s flushed cheek. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d end
up crying either.”

Reid smirked, eyes still glistening. “Maybe it’ll be more sexy and wild after a few times.”

Morgan grinned, kissing him slow and deep. “Yeah, baby. I think it will.”

Soft morning light streamed through the curtains, stretching pale and warm across the
rumpled sheets.

Reid hummed, “We should probably take a quick shower.”

“Yeah. Or we could stay like this a little longer.”

“Tempting, but I want that coffee you made.”

Morgan sighed, rolling onto his back. “Fine. Shower, then coffee. But I’m not letting you out
of my sight all day.”

Reid chuckled, letting his lips rest briefly against Morgan’s cheek, “Deal.”
 Babysitting
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 16. It's February 2012. Reid
is 30, Morgan is 38 years old.

Reid’s apartment bore the quiet traces of the evening that led them here.

On the small dining table, a few plates lay scattered, dusted with donut crumbs—remnants of
the treats Morgan had brought after work. A Valentine’s Day gesture. The mugs of coffee sat
forgotten, the liquid inside now cold. The room still carried the faint aroma of roasted beans
and sugar.

Their clothes were abandoned in a careless trail across the floor. Morgan’s shirt draped over
the armrest. Reid’s slacks pooled beside the couch. A tie, socks, a belt, an undershirt—marks
of urgency.

There had been heat. A rush of hands, of mouths, of unspoken longing breaking free.

Now, in his bed, with his back flush against Morgan’s chest, Reid could feel everything.

The heat of Morgan’s body, the tremble of his breath, the way each groan spilled hot and
unguarded into Reid’s ear as Morgan slowly pressed inside him.

Reid loved the sound of Morgan’s groans. The raw, consuming arousal that made Morgan’s
body tremble, sending shudders through Reid’s spine. The undeniable proof that no one else
had ever made Morgan feel like this.

Reid loved the sound of Morgan’s groans as he moved—sinking in so slowly, so carefully.

They were groans of restraint. The quiet, desperate fight not to lose himself in his own need.
To put Reid first, always.

Reid loved the sound of Morgan’s groans—groans of love. Of wanting, not just to be inside
him, but to be close. To be connected. To claim him, and to be claimed in return.

Being joined this way filled Reid with a deep, aching satisfaction.

Lately, every time they made love, Reid wanted Morgan to take him. “Morgan, I want you,”
he would whisper, his voice shy yet pleading, his face flushed. He would shift his body into
spooning and wait, anticipation curling in his stomach as Morgan’s fingers gently applied
lubricant.
Yet Morgan had never let himself go completely. His movements remained slow, controlled,
restrained, lasting only minutes before he pulled back, waiting for the day Reid’s body would
crave more.

Tonight, something shifted.

“Mmmm...”

Morgan squeezed Reid’s waist, exhaling a hot, shaky breath against his ear. “God, you feel so
good...” His voice was thick, almost unsteady. His whole body trembled, taut with restraint.

Reid felt it, just as he always did—Morgan’s need, his restraint, his love.

And then—

A spark.

A sensation that wasn’t just emotional but physical.

The moment Morgan reached his depth, pleasure bloomed sharp and sudden inside Reid,
stealing the air from his lungs.

“Hmm...uhhhh!” Reid moaned abruptly.

Morgan froze. “Reid—you okay?” He couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure.

Reid’s hand reached back and clutched at Morgan’s hip, his fingers digging in. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?”

Reid’s voice shook. “Yeah. Move. Please.”

Morgan’s breath hitched, and then—hesitantly, carefully—he obeyed. His first thrust sent a
ripple of pleasure through Reid, his whole body shuddering as a moan tore free from his lips.
Morgan stilled for half a second, realizing.

Reid was feeling good.

Morgan’s restraint cracked. He reached around, stroking Reid in time with his slow thrusts,
coaxing even more pleasure from him. Reid moaned louder than ever, lost in it now, no
longer holding back.

They unraveled together, bodies slick with sweat, mouths parted, hands grasping, trembling.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, their breath still uneven. Morgan pressed lazy
kisses against the back of Reid’s neck, his lips warm and soft against damp skin. Reid’s hair
was a mess, sweat-dampened and wild, and Morgan ran his fingers through it, smoothing it
back tenderly.
Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say—only the quiet hum of contentment
between them, the gentle rise and fall of their chests in unison.

And as Morgan pulled him in even closer, holding him like he never wanted to let go, Reid
knew this moment would stay with him forever.

***

Recently, Hotch had observed an intriguing phenomenon between Morgan and Reid:
unconscious mirroring.

When Morgan crossed his arms, Reid did the same, unaware of it. They sipped their coffee
simultaneously or nodded in sync during briefings.

Hotch smiled to himself. Such synchronized behaviors were a clear sign of emotional
closeness, a subtle reflection of the bond that had deepened between them.

These movements were small, almost imperceptible, but to a profiler who had been watching
them closely, they were undeniable.

His thoughts drifted to Beth, his new love interest—his first since Haley’s passing. On
Valentine’s Day, he’d taken her out for their first dinner date. How long would it take for a
relationship to develop that kind of connection?

Pulling himself back to the present, Hotch ducked under the police tape and surveyed the
crime scene.

Morgan and Reid were already there, investigating the area.

Beyond the unconscious synchronization, they were doing their job just fine.

Hotch observed them for a moment—Morgan and Reid were deep in conversation, analyzing
the unsub’s actions.

“So, he parks on the road, then carries the body…” Morgan pointed to a patch of uphill
terrain in the bushes where the body had been found.

Reid and Morgan walked side by side from the road to the spot. Reid calculated the distance
as they went. Morgan knew he would and asked once they arrived.

“Distance?”

“52.6 yards,” Reid replied.

Morgan exhaled. “Uphill. He’s gotta be in great shape.”

Reid murmured, his tone thoughtful, “You know, more often than not, prostitutes are
murdered and dumped in the same area that they work.”
“So, why take the time to drive the extra 40 miles outside the city?”

“38.2 miles,” Reid corrected, then continued, “Maybe he’s already out here. Picks them up
downtown, takes them to a secondary location, kills them, and disposes of the body quickly.”

“Which means he probably lives nearby, in the suburbs.”

“With 76,728 other people.”

Morgan scoffed.

They sighed almost simultaneously and crossed their arms at the same time.

Hotch shook his head. The sight was amusing—even for him.

***

On the jet back to Quantico, Garcia appeared on Rossi’s laptop.

“Okay, Rossi, out with it. Is Hotch dating?” She whispered, leaning toward the screen.

Rossi mirrored her movement and responded, slow and clear, “I don’t know.”

Across from him, Reid perked up. “You know, statistically, widowed men start dating much
faster than females, but Hotch is refuting the data. It's been two years, three months, and four
days.”

Garcia sighed as if making a profound revelation. “Venus is aligned with Mars, which means
love is in the air—and maybe we’ll finally get weekends off.”

Just then, Hotch approached. Morgan cleared his throat.

Garcia’s expression shifted instantly. “He’s standing there, isn’t he?”

Emily snuck a peek, biting her nail, while JJ smirked at Garcia.

“Hello, Garcia,” Hotch said evenly.

Flustered, Garcia blurted, “Hello. Come home safely. Bye.” And with that, she disappeared
from the screen.

Hotch asked Rossi for help with the report, and they moved to the back of the jet.

JJ leaned in and whispered to Emily, Morgan, and Reid. “Hotch met his date during triathlon
training, apparently.”

Emily beamed. “Good for him.”

“It’s this Sunday, right? Why aren’t you competing?” Reid asked Morgan.

Morgan shrugged. “Didn’t wanna spend my weekends training for a triathlon.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d rather spend time with you.” Morgan said it so matter-of-factly that Reid
blinked.

“Oh.” A faint blush crept up Reid’s face as JJ and Emily exchanged smirks.

“You’d nail it without training,” Reid said confidently.

“I’m flattered, but it’s not that easy. If I participate, I’m representing our division. I don’t
wanna just wing it.”

Suddenly, Emily straightened and, in a stern voice, mimicked Morgan: “Now, if you’re not
ready to shoulder that responsibility, maybe you need to reconsider joining the Bureau!”

Morgan frowned. “What was that?”

“That’s you during tactics training.” Emily grinned.

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“It does,” Reid said.

Morgan scoffed. “Reid, sorry, but—”

“Sorry doesn’t bring people back!” Emily cut in, still imitating him.

Morgan sighed, clearly annoyed.

JJ and Reid finally lost it, bursting into laughter.

“Come on, I’m messing with you.” Emily grinned, and after a beat, Morgan chuckled,
shaking his head.

Just then, JJ’s phone rang.

“Hi. Oh. Okay, I understand. Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.”

She hung up and sighed.

“Still no sitter?” Emily guessed.

JJ shook her head. “Apparently, I have a better chance of winning the lottery than finding a
sitter on a Saturday night.”

“What’s going on tonight?” Reid asked.

“Oh, it was supposed to be ladies’ night,” Emily began.

“But I forgot to book a sitter. Will’s away all week,” JJ finished.

“I’ll do it,” Reid offered.

“Spence…”

“What? I babysit Henry all the time.”

“You’ve never babysat by yourself before.”

“He can do a couple of hours,” Emily encouraged. “Morgan can help too.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. Instead, he asked, “How old is he now?”

JJ opened her mouth to answer, but Reid beat her to it.

“Three years, three months, and seventeen days.”

***

"Bye-bye, sweetheart," JJ said, kissing Henry’s forehead.

Henry waved at her with his tiny hand, nestled safely in Reid’s arms. He didn’t cry or fuss—
he was used to Reid, practically family at this point. As long as Reid was holding him,
everything was fine.

JJ smiled. “You be good for Spencer, okay? And Uncle Derek too.” Then JJ looked at Reid
and Morgan. “Thank you, guys.”

JJ kissed Henry one last time before heading out the door.

The moment the front door shut, Henry peeked at Morgan from the safety of Reid’s arms, his
little fingers curling into the fabric of Reid’s shirt. He wasn’t crying, but his big blue eyes
stayed locked onto Morgan like he was an unfamiliar animal in the wild.

Morgan raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, kiddo. You don't remember me? You’re
looking at me like I might eat you.”

Henry burrowed his face into Reid’s neck.

Reid chuckled, patting Henry’s back reassuringly. “Derek’s nice, Henry. He’s my best
friend.”

Henry peeked out again, suspicious.

“You wanna play?” Morgan tried, keeping his voice soft.

Henry stayed quiet, eyes big and uncertain.

Reid kissed the top of Henry’s head and said gently, “Hey, Henry, do you want to show Derek
your dinosaurs?”

That got a reaction. Henry hesitated, then gave a small nod.

Reid set him down carefully, and Henry toddled over to the plastic bin in the corner. He dug
through it, pulling out a chunky green dinosaur and holding it up proudly. “This is a T. rex.”

Morgan grinned. “A T-Rex, huh? You like dinosaurs?”

Henry nodded enthusiastically, gripping the toy tight.

Reid settled beside him on the floor, already knowing what to do. “He loves them,” he told
Morgan. “But the stegosaurus is his favorite.”

Morgan dug into the bin and pulled out a blue dinosaur with plates on its back. “This one?”

Henry’s whole face lit up. “Yeah! That’s a stegosaurus!”

Morgan grinned and handed it to Henry.

“Stegosaurus is nice. He doesn’t eat other dinosaurs. Just plants.” Henry explained to
Morgan.

Morgan chuckled. “You are so smart.”

Reid smiled as he watched Henry warm up. Soon, Henry was giggling, making the dinosaurs
“roar” at Morgan, who dramatically fell backward as if defeated. It didn’t take long for Henry
to start climbing all over him, declaring victory.

Next Henry sat on Morgan’s lap and showed him his dinosaur encyclopedia.

Reid sat next to them and smiled at Henry. “See? He is nice, right?”

Henry nodded. Morgan smiled and ruffled Henry’s hair.

As the evening went on, Morgan realized just how much Reid knew.

Reid knew how to calm him down with snack, the exact moment he’d start getting fidgety
and need a trip to the bathroom, and the perfect way to keep him entertained without
overstimulating him.

Morgan was beyond impressed.

“You really know your stuff, huh?” he muttered as he watched Reid guide Henry through
washing his hands after the bathroom.

Reid shrugged. “I watch Henry almost every Sunday. You pick things up.”

Dinner was easy—JJ had already got them pizza and salad, and Henry ate happily between
them, swinging his little feet under the table and babbling about his favorite cartoons.

After dinner, they played a little longer, but soon, Henry’s blinks grew slower, his little body
leaning heavier against Reid.

Reid glanced at the clock. “Alright, it's almost bedtime.”

Reid pulled out pajamas and a nighttime diaper. “Can you help change him?” Reid asked
Morgan, scooping Henry up.

Henry was wiggly and giggly between the two of them, but they got him into his pajamas
without too much trouble. Reid brushed Henry’s teeth, then carried him to bed.

Reid settled on the bed with Henry, a book in hand. Henry curled up against him as he read.

Morgan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the sight with a soft smile. He
wasn’t used to seeing Reid like this—so natural, so gentle, so effortlessly good with a child.

After tucking Henry in, they cleaned up and settled on the couch, turning the TV on. Morgan
stretched an arm along the back of the couch, glancing at Reid beside him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Morgan said after a while.

Reid huffed a quiet laugh. “For knowing Henry’s snack preferences?”

“For everything,” Morgan said, shaking his head fondly.

Before Reid could respond, there was a small shuffle from the hallway.

A tiny figure padded over, clutching his stuffed dinosaur. Henry blinked sleepily at them,
then toddled over without a word.

He climbed up onto the couch and nestled right between them, resting his head on Reid’s
chest.

Reid instinctively wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back.

Morgan grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over Henry, making sure he was warm.

For a while, they just sat there, the soft glow of the TV flickering in the quiet.

Then Morgan looked at Reid, and Reid looked at Morgan.

Neither of them spoke, but they didn’t have to.

They shared a light, sweet kiss over Henry’s sleeping form.

Morgan lingered for a second longer, heart full.

One day, he thought. This would be their future.

***

Sunlight poured over the FBI triathlon’s finish line, crisp and golden in the late February
morning.
Blue FBI banners fluttered, marking the goal point. A crowd had gathered, cheering for the
competitors as they approached the final stretch.

Rossi, Morgan—who had Jack perched on his shoulders—Garcia, Reid, JJ, and Emily stood
among them. While Rossi, Morgan, Jack, and Reid were enthusiastically cheering, JJ, Emily,
and Garcia looked far less enthusiastic, their expressions bordering on miserable.

Reid smirked at them. “'A couple hours'? You guys didn’t come home until sunrise!”

Then, he continued cheering, “Whoo! Whooo!” while waving a tiny Stars and Stripes in his
hand. The girls grimaced in unison.

“Why are you yelling?” JJ groaned.

“Make him stop,” Emily muttered, rubbing her temple.

Morgan chuckled and patted Jack’s legs. “Okay, hey Jack, Jack—earmuffs for a minute,
earmuffs.” Once Jack obediently covered his ears, Morgan turned to the girls. “What did you
guys drink last night?”

Garcia groaned. “The Green Fairy. You’re in the FBI. Could you get the entire crowd to stop
cheering?”

Reid glanced at his watch. “By my estimates, Hotch will be finishing any minute.”

Jack perked up. “Do you see him, Uncle Dave?”

Rossi squinted, then grinned. “I think I do, kiddo. Right there!”

Sure enough, Hotch came into view, running with steady determination.

“There he is!” Morgan shouted.

The entire group erupted into cheers, their voices blending with the surrounding crowd.

“Yeah! Come on! Get in there!” Morgan urged as Hotch neared the finish line.

With one final push, Hotch crossed the goal, and the crowd burst into even louder cheers and
applause.

“Come on, Jack. Let’s go see your dad,” Morgan said, lowering Jack from his shoulders. The
team moved toward Hotch, surrounding him with congratulations.

Then, a voice rang out over the crowd. “Hotchner!”

They turned to see Beth. Hotch glanced at Jack and crouched slightly. “Jack, there’s someone
I want you to meet. Come here.”

As Jack hesitated before stepping toward his father, the team exchanged knowing smiles.

Then Reid clapped his hands together. “Hey, you guys want something to eat?”
JJ sighed. “Yeah, something greasy.”

“Oh yeah,” Emily and Garcia groaned in agreement, still looking queasy.

Morgan let out a laugh, shaking his head as they all started making their way toward food.
 Suppressed Memories
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 7, Episode 18. It's March, 2012. Reid is 30,
Morgan is 38.

【Reader discretion is advised: This chapter contains depictions of sexual abuse.】

A teenage Latino boy was found wandering alone in the desert outside Crawford, Arizona.
He was severely emaciated, his sunken eyes wide with fear—clear signs of recent captivity.

When Morgan arrived at the hospital to interview him, the attending doctor met him with a
grim expression.

“Getting any information out of him is nearly impossible,” the doctor warned. “He won’t
speak. He won’t let anyone near him. He’s hiding under a table, refusing all contact.”

“Any signs of sexual assault?”

“We can’t be certain yet. He won’t let us examine him. But given his behavior... I’m afraid
so.”

Morgan exhaled sharply, nodding. “Is he sensitive to light and sound?”

“Incredibly. We’re keeping the room as dark and quiet as possible.”

The doctor led Morgan down the hall to a dimly lit room. The hospital bed was empty.
Instead, the boy was curled up under a table, his thin arms wrapped around his knees.

Once the doctor left, Morgan lowered himself onto the floor, keeping a careful distance.

“Hey,” he said gently. “My name’s Derek. I’m one of the good guys.”

Silence.

Morgan softened his voice even more. “The doctor says you haven’t been eating much. Food
looks pretty good.” He gestured vaguely toward the untouched tray nearby.

No response. The boy didn’t so much as glance his way.

Morgan didn’t push. He stayed where he was, sometimes speaking, sometimes just sitting
quietly, giving the boy space.
Then his phone beeped.

The boy flinched violently, eyes darting in panic.

Morgan raised his hands, his voice calm. “It’s okay. It’s just my phone. You’re safe.”

Morgan slowly got to his feet, backing toward the door.

***

Morgan sighed as he reported to Hotch, his voice low. “He’s not talking at all. This is years of
conditioning. Have Garcia go back to 2000 for missing kids.”

After muting his phone, he returned to the boy’s room and sat down on the floor again.

“Listen,” Morgan said gently, “I know how scared you are. I know you think he can still hurt
you—that he’s just outside that door. But I promise you, he’s not. And even if he was, he’d
have to get through me first. And I’m not about to let that happen.”

From beneath the table, the boy peeked at him. His posture eased, just slightly.

Morgan didn’t press. Instead, he pulled a coin from his pocket, balanced it on its edge, and
rolled it across the floor. It stopped near the boy’s hand.

Hesitantly, the boy picked it up, turning it between his fingers, feeling its weight.

After a while, he rolled it back.

Morgan’s face lit up. He picked up the coin and rolled it again.

Back and forth, over and over. For an hour, they played, the rhythm of the coin filling the
silence. As they did, Morgan talked—about Chicago, about how he used to play football as a
kid, about how his mom would yell at him for tracking dirt into the house.

The boy never spoke, but sometimes, just sometimes, he smiled.

After a few hours, Morgan noticed a shift—small, but important. The boy started nodding or
shaking his head in response to simple questions.

When he began fidgeting, Morgan asked, “Do you need to go to the bathroom? I’ll take you.”

A brief hesitation. Then, a nod.

For the first time, the boy crawled out from under the table. He stayed close as Morgan
guided him to the bathroom.

When they returned, he immediately went back under—but now, Morgan sat a little closer.
He stayed with him through the night.

By morning, the light filtering into the room was warm and soft. The boy didn’t seem as
troubled by it anymore. He had moved out from under the table, sitting beside Morgan
instead.

Still, every time Morgan had to step away—to make a call, to use the bathroom—the boy
retreated beneath the desk again.

Then, finally, Garcia called with an ID.

“His name is Angel Suarez,” she said. “He went missing in 2004. He was in second grade at
Flagstaff Elementary when he was taken. He’s sixteen now.”

Morgan closed his eyes for a second, steadying himself.

“And Derek,” Garcia’s voice softened. “His mother’s coming.”

***

JJ and Ms. Suarez arrived at the hospital, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing through the
hallway. Ms. Suarez was trembling, her heart aching with a mixture of anxiety and love. Her
voice cracked as she asked JJ where her son was, her every word laced with desperation and
hope. She cried out his name, eager to take him back into her arms.

JJ guided her gently, trying to keep her calm. “Ms. Suarez, please, just wait here for a
moment. We’ll bring him to you.”

When Morgan told Angel his mother was there, the boy stiffened. His eyes flickered to the
door, then back to Morgan.

“Do you want to meet her?” Morgan asked softly.

Angel shook his head.

JJ watched, concern in her eyes. “Do you think Angel blames himself?” she asked Morgan.

Morgan exhaled slowly, his voice low. “I know I did.”

JJ nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “Seeing his mom for the first time… it
might not go well.”

Morgan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s the shame weighing on him. We should let
Ms. Suarez know that Angel may need more time before he’s ready to see her.”

When they went back to Angel’s room, he was sitting on the bed, his back to them. He was
trembling, his arms shaking violently. Morgan’s eyes widened as he understood what was
happening.

“Angel! No!!” Morgan’s voice was sharp with panic.

He rushed into the room, reaching for the boy’s arms just as Angel brought the broken piece
of china to his wrist.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

The sharp piece fell to the floor with a soft clink, and the alarm sounded—loud, jarring.

“JJ, get a towel!” Morgan shouted, his voice tight with urgency.

He pulled Angel into his arms, applying pressure to the wound, his hands shaking as he
fought to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay, Angel, it's okay, it's okay...” Morgan murmured over and over, his voice a low,
calming rhythm. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Morgan kissed the boy’s head, his heart raced as he stroked Angel’s back, doing everything
he could to ease the boy’s terror.

***

Angel slept on the hospital bed after his wound had been treated.

Morgan sat in the chair next to him, gently touching the boy's wrapped wrist, his heart aching
for him.

He had done that. When he was a teenager. There were times when shame and self-loathing
had completely consumed him, making him blind to hope, to a future. All he could see was
darkness. The only thing that stopped him was his family—his mother and two sisters, who
had already lost their father and husband. He couldn’t bring himself to be the one to devastate
them further.

Morgan was fiddling with the coin absentmindedly when Angel opened his eyes.

“Hey.” Morgan smiled softly.

Angel’s gaze drifted to the coin in Morgan’s hand.

“It’s called a challenge coin, Angel,” Morgan said gently, “Legend has it that a WWI
American pilot was shot down over Germany and crawled into French territory, desperate to
survive. Mistaken for a German, he was nearly executed—until he showed a coin with his
squadron's insignia, a gift from a fellow pilot to remember their bond.”

“What happened to him?” Angel asked, his voice rough from disuse.

Morgan froze for a moment, surprised to hear him speak. He let out a soft, almost breathless
laugh.

“A French soldier recognized the insignia, and they set him free.”

Angel nodded.

Morgan leaned forward, his gaze softening as he reached out and gently took Angel’s hand.
“Angel... What did he do? You can tell me.”

Angel hesitated, his eyes downcast. Then, in a whisper so quiet Morgan almost missed it, he
said, “He used to... He used to bite me. He hasn’t for a while. But he did... He did other
things.”

Morgan’s blood ran cold. His chest tightened, a wave of dread crashing over him.

“Angel, listen to me.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto Angel's.

“Carl Buford. That's the name of the man who hurt me. I was just a young boy like you,
Angel. And I thought about doing that very same thing to myself because the shame was too
much.”

Morgan’s gaze flickered to the boy’s wrist, then back to his face. Angel listened to him
intently. Morgan continued,

“But I couldn't, because of my family. And instead, I kept the pain buried inside of me for a
very long time. It ate me alive for years.”

Angel’s eyes were wide, holding Morgan’s with an intensity that made Morgan’s heart ache
all over again.

“But, Angel, I found someone who helped heal my pain.”

“A doctor?”

“No,” Morgan smiled gently, “Well, he is a doctor, but not the kind you’d find in a hospital.”

Angel tilted his head slightly, trying to understand.

“He’s someone I love. And he loves me, too.”

Angel’s face softened, his expression almost mirroring Morgan’s.

“See... there is hope, Angel,” Morgan said, “I thought my pain would never heal. But now I
know it does.”

Morgan’s tone remained gentle, yet there was strength in his words.

“It’s a process. It doesn’t happen all at once. When you love someone, and when you let them
love you, the healing begins. It happens slowly, but it does happen.”

Angel remained silent, hesitant.

“My healing is still in progress, too. Every time the pain comes back, I go to him. I don’t hide
it. And I receive comfort. It’s that simple, really.”

Angel listened quietly, absorbing Morgan’s words.

“What you need to do, Angel... is not let your shame and self-loathing stop you from
healing.”

Morgan held Angel’s hand a little tighter.

“And I think... your first step is to let your mom hold you.”

Angel’s eyes glistened as he slowly nodded.

***

Morgan led Angel to the room where his mother was waiting. He paused at the door, glancing
down.

“Ready?”

Angel nodded.

They stepped inside. Ms. Suarez shot to her feet, her breath hitching the moment she saw
him. Tears spilled down her face as she rushed forward, pulling Angel into her arms. Angel
didn’t resist. He clung to her, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face against her.

Morgan and JJ stood back, watching in silence as mother and son held each other, their quiet
sobs filling the space.

After reuniting with his mother, Angel agreed to receive medical care. Using dental records
and DNA, the team was able to identify the perpetrator. The arrest was made, and with that,
the case was closed.

***

Morgan sat still in his office chair, staring into space.

His conversation with Angel had unearthed memories he hadn’t even realized he’d buried.
He didn’t want to confront them, tried to push them away, but the images grew clearer and
more insistent, demanding his attention. With a heavy sigh, Morgan closed his eyes and let
the memories settle in.

Derek felt disoriented, his vision clouded and his thoughts sluggish. He tried to move, but his
body wouldn’t obey. Everything felt foggy. He had been drugged.
The man’s weight pressed down on him, suffocating in its heaviness. Derek’s senses were
muted, but he couldn’t block out the foul stench of the man’s sweat, his breath.

“Derek, you are beautiful.”

Buford’s voice whispered in his ear, hoarse and unsettling. His thick fingers traced over his
body, but Derek could only feel a dull sensation. He was grateful for the fog in his senses—
the blur in his vision, the muted sound of the man’s voice, the numbness in his touch. But
then,

“Ugh!!!”

Derek screamed in agony as a sharp, excruciating pain shot through his inner thigh. Buford
had bitten him. Derek’s teeth chattered, both from fear and the pain coursing through him.
His entire body trembled, and tears streamed down his face.

“Oh. Derek. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Buford whispered, pressing his mouth to the wound.
Derek shivered uncontrollably.

Buford’s breaths were uneven, sharp with a disturbing excitement. “This was the only spot I
could do this... where no one can see.”

Buford kissed him roughly, forcing his tongue into Derek’s mouth.

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Derek pleaded. but no words came. His body felt
paralyzed, his voice trapped inside. The only thing that came were the endless tears,
streaming down his face.

“You are beautiful when you cry.” Buford wiped his tears with his thumb.

“Your face is flushed, your body trembling. Do you realize how beautiful you are when
you're crying in pain?”

Buford spread Derek’s legs and held the lubricant upside down, letting the contents drip over
Derek. Then he gripped his legs and leaned over. Without warning, he forced himself into
Derek.

“Ughh!” He cried out in pain.

“Cry! Derek! Cry!”

Buford thrusted himself hard repeatedly as he shouted, “Cry for me! Derek. Cry for me!”

Finally Buford groaned loud and collapsed onto him.

Derek gasped between sobs, his body wracked with shaky, uncontrollable cries. Buford
hugged him tight.

“Good boy. Good boy....You are my best, Derek. You are my best.”
***

Morgan opened his eyes, a tremor still running through his body. His throat was dry, and he
felt as if he were paralyzed, unable to move for a moment.

He staggered to his feet, his head spinning and stomach churning.

The office floor was quiet, with only a few people still working. He could still see the light
on in Hotch’s office.

His gaze swept across the bullpen and landed on Reid, still at his desk. Just seeing him—his
presence—grounded Morgan, easing the tightness in his chest.

Reid looked up as Morgan approached.

“Hey. Still working?” Morgan’s voice was soft, almost distant.

Reid immediately picked up on something being off with Morgan. His face was unnaturally
pale.

“Uh...yeah, just finishing up,” Reid replied, shoving a few books into his bag.

“Reid...Can you come home with me?”

“I was going to, actually. I’ve been waiting.”

Reid said lightly, trying to mask his concern, but he didn't have to. Morgan was too
distracted, lost in his own thoughts.

“Morgan...” Reid reached out, his hand brushing against Morgan’s. The moment their skin
made contact, Morgan flinched.

Morgan snapped back to reality, looking at Reid. “Sorry. What?”

“I’m ready,” Reid said, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Morgan offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

***

Morgan’s heart pounded as he stood alone in the bathroom. He exhaled slowly, trying to
steady himself.

Reid was in the living room—probably reading a book or writing a letter to his mother.
Morgan was grateful he was here.

His mouth felt dry as he swallowed. With shaky hands, he unfastened his slacks and pushed
them down, his breath unsteady.

He gripped his right thigh, fingers ice-cold against his skin, and turned it slightly to see the
inside. His hand trembled.
At first, he saw nothing. His brows furrowed, and he leaned in, squinting under the light.

Then—he inhaled sharply.

There it was. Faint but unmistakable. The shape of teeth.

Morgan’s body jolted. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and he barely made it to the toilet
before vomiting.

“Reid… Reid!” His voice was raw, desperate. “Reid!”

The door flew open. “Morgan?!”

Reid rushed in, eyes wide with alarm. He dropped to his knees beside Morgan, who sat on the
floor, slacks abandoned.

“Morgan, are you okay?” Reid cupped his face, scanning him with frantic eyes. “Are you
sick?”

“He bit me.”

“What?”

“Fuck!!! That son of a bitch left me a mark!!”

Morgan’s fist slammed against the toilet lid. The plastic cracked with a sharp snap.

“Fuck!! Fuck!!!” He struck it again. And again.

Reid froze, horrified, watching the rage consume him.

Morgan finally stopped, his breath ragged, and cradled his head in his hands. Silence hung
between them.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Reid’s voice was gentle. “Morgan, it’s okay. Can I touch you?”

A small nod. Reid shifted closer and wrapped his arms around him hesitantly, rubbing his
back.

Morgan’s voice was barely above a whisper. “How could I not have known? The pain
must’ve lasted for days.”

Reid swallowed, already piecing together what had happened. He pulled back to face
Morgan.

“A memory came back?”

“Yeah…” Morgan nodded, his voice hollow.

“I guess I had dissociative amnesia,” he muttered, “I didn’t remember it until today. And I
was probably drugged.”

Reid hesitated, “He bit you?”

Morgan nodded, “Then raped me.”

Morgan’s face was pale. “He...” His expression twisted with disgust.

“He liked it when I cried out in pain.”

Reid’s jaw quivered as dread settled in. He wanted to stay strong for Morgan, but he couldn’t
stop the tears.

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady before speaking.

“If your mind suppressed the memory of the assault, it could have also suppressed the pain
that followed. The brain sometimes treats physical sensations tied to trauma as part of the
same threat, making them inaccessible. That’s why you didn’t remember the aftermath
either.”

Morgan let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head. “How many more suppressed memories do I
have?”

“I don’t know,” Reid admitted. “But Morgan, I promise...” He reached for his hand, and
Morgan looked up. Reid was crying.

“Whenever a memory comes back and threatens you… I'll be here.”

Morgan held his gaze, his own tears slipping free. Slowly, he nodded and rested his head on
Reid’s shoulder. Reid wrapped his arms around him again—tighter this time.

Morgan closed his eyes, surrendering to the warmth and comfort. The turmoil inside him
didn’t disappear, but the weight of it felt lighter, no longer unbearable.

He remembered what he had told Angel—and now, he told himself the same thing.

--Every time the pain comes back, I go to him. I don’t hide it. And I receive comfort. It’s that
simple, really.

Relief settled over him.

“Thank you,” Morgan murmured. Reid pressed a kiss to his temple.

Morgan stayed in Reid’s arms for a long time, letting the warmth steady him.
 Kevin
Chapter Notes

It's March 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 38.

Reid had lost track of time. His arms ached from holding Morgan, but he didn’t loosen his
grip. Not until Morgan was ready.

At last, Morgan shifted slightly, his breath evening out. “Reid...” His voice was so low it
barely carried. “Can you see the scar?”

Reid pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. The raw vulnerability there tightened his
throat.

“I want you to see it,” Morgan murmured. “So I don’t have to carry it all by myself.”

Reid nodded, his voice steady. “Show me.”

Morgan hesitated for half a beat, then pointed to the spot on his inner thigh. Reid’s gaze
followed, his chest tightening as he took in the faint, arched scar. It was old, nearly faded into
nothing, but he could still trace the shape of it. A bite mark. A ghost of a wound.

He reached out, his fingers brushing over the scarred skin, and Morgan tensed—just for a
moment—before exhaling. Reid’s touch was light, almost hesitant. He wanted to speak, to
say something meaningful, but words felt inadequate. Instead, he bowed his head and pressed
a kiss to the mark.

A quiet gasp escaped Morgan.

Reid looked up, meeting his gaze. “It’s healed.”

Morgan blinked, caught off guard. Then, to Reid’s relief, he let out a short, breathy laugh. “Is
that what you do to Henry when he bumps his head?”

“Yeah,” Reid admitted with a chuckle. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Morgan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Reid, something unspoken passing
between them. Then, slowly, the tightness in his shoulders unraveled. The storm inside him
quieted.

“It does.”

Like magic, the pain in his chest dissipated.

Morgan pushed himself up and reached for Reid’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Let's get ready for bed.”

Reid nodded, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness.

Once they crawled under the covers, sleep took them swiftly.

***

Morgan stirred awake, his body still heavy with lingering fatigue, but the first thing he
registered was warmth. Reid was beside him, still asleep, his face softened by the morning
light. A small, contented smile tugged at Morgan’s lips. He reached out, fingertips brushing
against Reid’s cheek before trailing down the faint roughness of stubble along his jaw, his
upper lip, his chin.

Reid shifted, exhaling a slow breath as his eyelids fluttered open. It only took him a second to
realize what Morgan was doing. Reid gave a drowsy chuckle.

Morgan never said it outright, but Reid knew

Morgan was always drawn to the subtle markers of his masculinity—his stubble, the ridges of
his knuckles, the muscles along his back, the shadow of veins on his neck. Morgan traced
them with quiet fascination.

“Think you’d like it if I grew my facial hair?”

Morgan grinned. “I’d love it.”

Reid chuckled. “How do you know?”

Morgan leaned in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to his lips before nestling closer against his
chest.

Reid glanced at the clock. “Morgan, it’s 6:20. We have to get up.”

Morgan only murmured against his shirt, tightening his hold. “Don’t wanna. I want to stay in
bed with you all morning.”

Reid sighed. “Morgan, let’s get up.”

Morgan pulled back just enough to pout at him. “We didn’t make love last night.”

Reid sat up slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Morgan—”

But before he could move, Morgan’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding him back with
stubborn strength. “Let’s skip breakfast and make love,” he murmured, voice still thick with
sleep.

Reid let out a slow breath, gently prying Morgan’s hands off. “Morgan, I don’t want to have
quick, rushed sex.”
Morgan groaned dramatically, finally letting him go, flopping onto his back with an
exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

The morning unfolded in its usual rhythm—shaving, a warm shower, the quick process of
getting dressed. Soon enough, they were out the door, walking toward Morgan’s car.

By the time they stepped into the elevator, Morgan was reminded of all the unfinished reports
from yesterday. He let out a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

***

Morgan hurried to his office, eager to organize the case documents before the meeting when
Kevin called out.

“Derek.”

Morgan looked up. “Hey, what’s up, Kevin?”

“Can we, uh... have a talk?”

Morgan's brow furrowed slightly. “Is Penelope okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, she’s perfect. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re Penelope’s boo,
and she’s your baby girl…”

“Okay, Kevin—land your plane,” Morgan said, giving him an exasperated look. He had a lot
to get done.

Kevin hesitated for a moment, then said, “I want to propose to Penelope, and I need your
help.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, picked up his phone, and began heading toward the meeting
room. Kevin followed closely behind.

“Please, I'm not asking for your blessing, I'm asking for your advice.”

Morgan kept walking.

“Alright,” Kevin continued, “should I propose over a couple tacos and a Red Bull, or take her
to New York and do it at the Statue of Liberty?”

Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I should serenade her at the roundtable right before you guys present a case. No,
actually, that may not work, given the gruesome nature of your job.”

“Kevin,” Morgan said, holding up a hand, “seriously, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”

“Derek, please. Come on, bro, this is important.”

Morgan shook his head and entered the meeting room.

Garcia, who had been watching them, stopped him at the door. She whispered, “What was
that about?”

“Oh, you know. He just wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Just guy stuff.”

“Me?”

Before Morgan could respond, Hotch’s voice cut in. “Garcia, we need to start.”

***

It was past eight when the doorbell rang at Reid’s apartment. He frowned, setting down his
book. It had to be Morgan.

But it wasn’t. It was Garcia.

“Garcia.”

“Hey, 187. Can I eat my dinner here?” She lifted a bag of Chinese takeout, her face glum.

Reid eyed the bag. “Do you have mine, too?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Come in.”

As she stepped inside, Garcia looked around and sighed. “You need more colors, genius.”

Reid frowned. “I have colors.”

“All you have are old book colors—earthy, desaturated, like a sepia filter from the 1800s.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s depressing.”

“It’s calming.”

“Well, it’s not calming my nerves.” Garcia sighed again and plopped onto the couch, setting
the food on the coffee table.

Reid sat beside her. “So?”

She turned to him, her voice dramatic and desperate. “Derek Morgan is not answering my
calls, and I’m frustrated. I left sixty-seven messages.”

Reid raised an eyebrow.

“I have to know what he and Kevin were talking about this morning,” she said, exasperated.

“Then why don’t you just go to his house?”

Garcia hesitated. “Because I might have crossed a line, and he might be mad at me.”

Reid frowned. “What did you do?”

She sighed. “I blackmailed him. Told him that if he didn’t call me back, I’d have no choice
but to show everyone a nude photo of him from art class.” She paused for effect. “And not
the good one, either.”

Reid’s lips twitched as he fought back laughter. “Can I see the photo?”

“No. I don’t have a death wish.”

“It’s from art class. Morgan must have willingly volunteered.”

“Yeah, but it’s unflattering. And downright hilarious.”

They exchanged smirks.

“Do you want tea?” Reid offered.

“Yes, please.” Garcia started eating, her mood lifting slightly.

A few bites in, she glanced at him. “I have a question for you, Doctor.” She skillfully
scooped up some lo mein with her chopsticks.

Reid looked up, a fork in his hand. “Okay.”

“What would you do if you found out Derek was looking for an engagement ring for you?”

Reid froze mid-bite, his face paling. His brows furrowed. “Wait… is he?”

Garcia grinned. “Relax, Spencer. It’s just a hypothetical.”

Reid exhaled sharply. “It better be. He’s not supposed to do that to me.”

Garcia was delighted by his reaction, but she contained her excitement and pressed further.
“Why not?”

“Because he can’t make that kind of decision without knowing how I feel about it and
making sure we’re on the same page.”

“Exactly!” Garcia pointed at him with her chopsticks. “Thank you for saying that! I knew
you were on my side, Boy Wonder.”

Reid narrowed his eyes. “Is Kevin proposing to you?”

“Apparently. I hacked into his computer—”

“Garcia.”

“—and he was looking at rings.”

“That’s horrifying,” Reid muttered, imagining himself in that situation.

“Right? That must be what Kevin and Derek were talking about. And I hate it. I hate changes.
I don’t like talks about commitment and the future. I just… I just like the way things are now,
you know?”

“I know…” Reid glanced down at his food before asking, “So… you don’t want to marry
Kevin?”

“I don’t know. I’m just not ready.”

Reid nodded.

Garcia tilted her head. “How about you, genius? Do you wanna marry Derek?”

Reid hesitated. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“More than anything.”

Garcia’s eyebrows shot up.

“So why don’t you tell him? Derek would be on cloud nine to hear that. What’s holding you
back? He seems more than ready.”

Reid looked away for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you know that schizophrenia is a
genetic disorder?”

Garcia frowned. “Spencer, you’re already thirty. The typical onset is in the early twenties.”

“The peak is in the early twenties,” Reid corrected. “But it doesn’t drop off completely.
Around thirty, it levels out for a while. Then, heading into the late thirties, the risk declines
sharply. If there are no symptoms by thirty-seven, it’s almost safe to say it won’t develop.”

“Seven more years?”

“Yeah.”

Garcia hesitated, then asked, “If you develop it… would you break up with him?”

“Yes. Immediately.” Reid didn’t even flinch. “So I don’t waste his time.”

Garcia hated his answer. But the dark, heavy resolve in his voice made it impossible to argue.
Instead, she asked:

“If nothing happens… will you marry him in seven years?”

Reid lowered his gaze, sighing. “I can’t make him wait that long.”

Garcia shook her head. “I think Derek would wait a hundred years for you.”

Reid smirked. “A hundred years? Morgan would be 138. The world record for the longest
human lifespan is held by Jeanne Louise Calment of France—she lived to be 122 years and
164 days. I don’t think Morgan can beat that.”

Garcia scoffed.

“Well, tomorrow, I’ll talk to Kevin. And Morgan.”

“I’ll be your emotional support.” Reid grinned.

“Thank you.” Garcia reached out and placed a hand over his.

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it.
“As a token of my gratitude…” She clicked a folder dramatically.

“Behold, Derek Morgan: The Renaissance Disaster.”

Reid swallowed.

The picture was a little blurry, and Morgan was small in the frame, but the second Reid saw
him—lying on his side in the middle of an art class, nearly naked except for a loosely draped
fabric—he started laughing.

Garcia grinned. “Wait until I make it bigger and clearer.”

Reid barely had time to prepare before the image sharpened.

Apparently, it was supposed to be a classical reclining pose—stretched out on his side, one
elbow propping him up, the other arm draped gracefully over his hip.

The kind of pose that should exude effortless elegance, smooth artistry… a true Renaissance
aesthetic.

But Morgan was failing miserably to pull it off.

His shoulder tensed awkwardly, like he was struggling to hold himself up. One knee was bent
too high, making it less graceful nude model and more guy trying to get comfortable on a
too-small couch.

His expression was somewhere between forced sophistication and mild discomfort—like he
knew he looked ridiculous but was trying to commit anyway.

Also, he looked so young—black hair, baby-faced university student, clearly out of his
element.

Reid couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing.

Garcia, in tears from laughter herself, gasped, “Look at the students!” She zoomed in on the
background, where several art students were sketching.

Their faces ranged from confused to deeply unimpressed. One girl looked outright annoyed,
as if Morgan’s failed elegance was personally offending her.

That only made it funnier.

By the time their laughter finally died down, it was past ten.

Garcia packed up her things and stretched. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Doctor.” She hugged him, feeling much better as she headed out.

***

The next day, Morgan found Penelope in the bullpen and walked up to her.

“Hey, you. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.” His voice was soft.

“That’s totally okay.” Garcia’s gaze flickered away, guilt creeping in from last night’s shared
laughter over that photo. “I just wanted to know what you and Kevin were talking about.”

Morgan studied her face, then shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Kevin. It’s not my place to
tell you.”

Garcia hesitated, then admitted, “Derek… I hacked into his computer.”

Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh. “Penelope…”

“He’s looking at rings.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her eyes were already turning
red.

Morgan tilted his head, gentle but firm. “You know, last time I checked, Kevin’s a pretty
great guy.”

That confirmed it. Kevin really was going to propose.

Garcia exhaled shakily, “I knew it. I knew it.” She glanced aside, blinking back tears.

“Baby, isn’t this a good thing?” Morgan asked carefully.

“Maybe to you, it is. But not to me.” Her voice wavered.

Morgan frowned in confusion.

“When relationships get more official, they get messy. You give, you compromise, people
change, and then…” She swallowed hard. “Then somebody goes away, and you’re left empty.
And I don’t want that. I don’t—I don’t want to be empty.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Baby, I really don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Morgan said, placing a reassuring hand on
her shoulder.

“Yeah? Well, that’s what always happens. And I don’t want any part of it. At all.”

Morgan opened his mouth to say something else, but just then, Kevin appeared.

Morgan took a step back, giving them space.

Kevin let out a small, nervous smile. “So… you know, huh?”

Garcia looked at him, her heart squeezing. “Kevin… I like the way things are now. I love
how you have your space, and I have mine, and when we come together, it’s like—our own
weird little world. And I don’t want to ruin that.”

“That’s not what this would do.” Kevin’s voice was gentle.

“Yeah. It would,” she insisted.

Kevin hesitated. “Penelope… are you against marriage? Or are you just against marrying
me?”

Her breath hitched. “Kevin… I’m just not ready yet.”

Kevin’s face tightened. He nodded slowly, disappointment settling into his features.

“Well, I am.”

And with that, he walked away.

***

Later, Morgan visited the OPR division on the fourth floor to find Kevin.

“Hey, Kevin.” He handed him a cup of coffee.

Kevin took it with a nod. “Thanks. Derek, uh… I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“No, not at all.”

A brief silence settled between them.

“I just… lost my confidence,” Kevin admitted.

“Don’t.”

Kevin let out a dry chuckle. “Easy for you to say. You’re a Muscle-Bound, Modern-Day
007.”
Morgan scoffed. “I don’t know what that means, but I do know Penelope cares about you.”

Kevin didn’t answer.

“Just… give her some time.”

“For how long?” Kevin exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s hard to wait when you don’t know if
she’s ever gonna be ready. It’s been four and a half years.”

Morgan sighed. “That long, huh?” He remembered when Kevin had first entered their lives—
helping with the case after Garcia was shot.

Kevin looked down, voice quieter. “How long would you wait for Spencer?”

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “As long as it takes.”

Kevin nodded, seeming to come to terms with something. Then he looked up at Morgan, his
expression resigned.

“Derek, I…” He exhaled. “I think I’m gonna move on.”

Morgan’s brows furrowed. “Are you breaking up with her?”

“Yeah.”

“Kevin—”

“Take good care of your baby girl, Derek.” Kevin gave a small, bittersweet smile. “She’s
truly a special person.”

Then, without another word, Kevin turned and walked away, leaving Morgan standing there.
 Cindi
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 7, Episode 20. It's April 2012. Reid is 30,
Morgan is 38.

Morgan’s touch was steady and tender as he guided Reid onto his side, their bodies molding
together like a perfect puzzle.

Reid shivered as Morgan’s arm draped over his waist, pulling him closer. The anticipation
was almost too much, setting his nerves alight, every inch of him aware of Morgan. Of the
warmth.

Reid reached back, his fingers briefly tangling with Morgan’s as he exhaled shakily.

“Reid... you ready?” Morgan’s voice was hushed, thick with desire.

“Yeah...” Reid whispered, his breath uneven.

Morgan’s fingers, slick with lubricant, traced over Reid’s entrance, preparing him with
practiced care. When he was ready, Morgan pressed forward, the blunt head pushing inside
with gentle persistence.

Reid’s breath hitched, his body tensing before slowly giving way. Morgan groaned, fighting
the primal urge to push in all at once.

The initial stretch still brought a sting, but Reid knew what lay beyond it—the overwhelming
pleasure that always followed.

“Are you okay?” Morgan’s voice was strained, his control hanging by a thread.

Reid nodded, closing his eyes as heat flooded through him.

“Reid, I love you.”

Morgan’s hand found Reid’s hair, stroking it with a tenderness that contradicted the tremble
in his touch.

Morgan began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust sending ripples of sensation through
Reid’s body. His breath grew uneven, pleasure unfurling with every deep stroke.

Soft moans escaped Reid’s lips, his nerves sparking with sensation. “Uhh... Morgan... it
feels... so good...”
“Me too,” Morgan murmured.

He reached out to touch Reid, but Reid grasped his own length instead, his movements needy
and urgent. Morgan’s restraint wavered, his rhythm growing faster. The bed creaked beneath
them, the quiet room filled with their ragged breaths and soft moans.

“Reid... I'm—” Morgan groaned, gripping Reid’s hips as he thrust deeper, losing himself in
the moment. With a final, shuddering gasp, he came, warmth spreading between them.
Almost in sync, Reid’s body trembled, pleasure crashing over him in waves.

They lay there, breathless, the quiet between them thick and satiated.

Reid turned, capturing Morgan’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Their breaths mingled, warmth
radiating between them.

“Does it still hurt at first?” Morgan asked, brushing damp strands of hair from Reid’s face,
his touch impossibly gentle.

“A little,” Reid admitted.

“And then it gets good?”

“Very.”

Morgan smiled, kissing him again. “I love you.”

Reid let out a small sigh, shifting slightly—then his hand landed in something wet. He
sucked in a breath, pulling back sheepishly.

“We forgot to put the towel again,” he muttered.

Morgan chuckled, amused rather than annoyed. “Yeah. Guess we’re washing the sheets
again.”

It was April.

They walked hand in hand along the Potomac River, the air fragrant with cherry blossoms
that had burst into full bloom. Soft petals drifted in the breeze, painting the world in shades
of pink and white.

Morgan couldn’t stop touching him—kissing Reid’s lips, cheeks, temples, and the crown of
his head every few minutes, as if compelled by some unspoken need.

“Almost three years, Reid,” Morgan murmured.

“Mm-hmm.”

“It feels a lot longer.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Probably because we had feelings for each other long before we actually started dating.”

Reid smirked. “Yeah, probably.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“‘We had feelings for each other’ sounds so... middle school.”

Morgan scoffed. “‘We were emotionally involved.’ How’s that?”

“Better.” Reid chuckled.

They stopped at a small coffee kiosk, the rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso curling into
the crisp spring air. After grabbing their drinks, they lingered nearby, savoring the warmth in
their hands.

Reid shot Morgan a teasing look. “When did you start ‘having feelings’ for me?”

Morgan thought for a moment. “Dunno… Earliest I can remember? When I was washing
your hair.”

Reid blinked. “Wait… when I had aquaphobia? March 2007?”

“Yeah.” Morgan chuckled at the memory. “All of a sudden, I wanted to kiss your neck—
which startled me just as much as it would’ve startled you.”

Reid stared at him, slack-jawed. Then, with his free hand, he lightly punched Morgan’s
stomach. “You were lusting after me while washing my hair?”

Morgan grinned. “A little bit.”

“Unbelievable.” Reid huffed. “I was trusting you completely as a brother.”

“Hey, I wasn’t gonna act on it,” Morgan said, pulling Reid into a hug before pressing a slow
kiss to the nape of his neck. “But now? Now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

Morgan trailed kisses along Reid’s skin again and again, until Reid finally chuckled, giving
in to the affection.

Passersby glanced at them, some with amused smiles, others with mild curiosity—but neither
of them cared.

They kept walking until they reached their spot—the place where they had shared their first
kiss. The river shimmered under the morning sun, its surface smooth and undisturbed.

Then, suddenly, Morgan’s phone beeped.

They both sighed. Probably Hotch. Which meant work.

But when Morgan checked the caller ID, his brow furrowed. “It’s Sarah.” He answered.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

A pause. Then Morgan’s expression changed.

“What? Is it Ma?”

Reid turned to him, concern tightening his features.

Morgan ended the call and immediately started walking. “It’s Desi. She was in a car
accident.”

Reid hurried to catch up. “Is she alright?”

“She is. But I have to go home.”

***

Morgan headed straight to Holy Cross Hospital in Chicago as soon as he landed.

Fran and Sarah rushed to him, wrapping him in tight hugs.

“How’s Desi?” he asked, voice tight with concern.

“She’s sleeping,” Sarah said. “The doctor said her injuries aren’t life-threatening. She’ll be
alright.”

Morgan exhaled, relief washing over him. “Thank God.”

He turned to his mother, “Ma, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go home and get some
rest? Sarah and I will stay and call you when Desi wakes up.”

Sarah echoed the suggestion, and after a moment, Fran finally nodded, agreeing to go home.
Sarah walked with her to the entrance.

Once she left, Morgan took a seat beside Desiree’s hospital bed. His chest tightened at the
sight of her bruised and swollen face. A tube ran from her nose.

Desiree shifted slightly.

“Hey there,” Morgan whispered.

She couldn’t open her eyes, but her voice was clear. “Either my big brother’s in the room…
or somebody else is wearing his nasty-ass cologne.”

Morgan huffed out a laugh. “Well, my boyfriend likes it.”

“Spencer’s too nice.” She scoffed. “Where's Mom?”

“I sent her home. I wanted her to get some rest.”

Desiree nodded faintly.

Then, Morgan’s voice turned serious. “Desi… what were you thinking? Who were you
chasing?”

She struggled to open her eyes, managing only a slight squint. When she looked at him, her
gaze was steady.

“I didn’t see the driver,” she murmured. “But the passenger… was Cindi.”

Morgan’s brow furrowed. “Aunt Yvonne’s Cindi?”

“Yes.”

Morgan stared at her. “Desi… Cindi’s dead.”

“I swear to God, Derek,” Desiree rasped. “She was right there. As close as you are to me. It
was Cindi.”

Morgan froze, his pulse spiking.

Could this be true?

Could Cindi still be alive?

If there was even a possibility, he had to act—now.

Without another word, he stood and reached for his phone.

***

“Hotch.”

“How’s your sister?”

“She’s awake. Talking.”

“Good. Take as much time as you need.”

Morgan hesitated. “Hotch… I think I might have a case out here.”

Hotch’s tone sharpened. “What do you mean?”

Morgan ran a hand down his face. “I need to come clean about something. I lied about
someone being dead.”

Hotch stayed silent, waiting.

“Last year, that fisherman unsub—the one dumping bodies in the Atlantic—claimed my
cousin was one of his victims.”

“Falsely. You deduced he’d never met her.”

“I told my aunt it was him. Cindi had been missing for eight years. My aunt needed closure. I
lied because I wanted her to move on.”

Hotch furrowed his brows, absorbing the weight of Morgan’s confession.

“But now, I have a witness who swears she’s alive.”

A beat passed before Hotch replied. “We’re on our way.”

Morgan exhaled sharply as he ended the call. Before he could turn, he realized Sarah was
standing there, tears streaking her face.

She stepped closer, disbelief and betrayal written across her features. “You lied to Aunt
Yvonne?” Her voice trembled. “Derek, what did you do?”

Morgan opened his mouth, but nothing came.

Sarah’s jaw tightened. Without another word, she shook her head and walked away.

***

When Morgan returned to Desiree’s room, she was asleep again. He stood at the door for a
moment, covering his face with his hands and exhaling deeply.

Childhood memories rushed through his mind.

***

Eight-year-old Derek did not like losing.

As he stared at the game screen flashing ‘GAME OVER’ in bright, taunting letters, he could
feel the heat rising to his face.

“You cheated!” he snapped, gripping the controller so tight his knuckles turned white.

Desiree, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, gasped dramatically. “I did not!”

“You did too!” Derek shot back. “You looked at my side of the screen!”

“That’s not cheating!” Desi huffed, tossing her controller down. “You just suck at this game!”

Derek’s jaw clenched. His chest tightened. He hated the stinging in his eyes, the lump in his
throat. He wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of Desi. But the frustration was too big.

“You cry like a girl!” Desi taunted, crossing her arms.

Derek let out an angry yell and slammed his fist against the floor. It didn’t make him feel
better.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Sarah’s sharp voice rang through the room.

Derek looked up to see his older sister standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, her
expression deadly serious. “You’re at Aunt Yvonne’s house. You need to behave, or I swear,
I’ll—”

But Derek didn’t wait to hear the rest. He jumped up and stormed out, his breath coming in
hot, angry bursts.

He wasn’t gonna cry. He wasn’t gonna—

A tear slipped down his cheek anyway.

Not knowing where else to go, Derek stomped his way to the garage and shut the door behind
him. It was stuffy, smelling like old wood and oil, but it was quiet. No Desi. No Sarah. Just
him.

He sat down on a stack of boxes, wiping his face furiously with the back of his hand. His
stomach growled. He knew what time it was—snack time.

And he was gonna miss it.

His throat tightened, and for some reason, that made him want to cry even more.

The garage door creaked open, and Derek looked up to see Cindi standing there, holding two
plates. Without a word, she plopped down beside him on the dusty box and handed him one.
A peanut butter sandwich, cut into triangles, with a side of apple slices.

Derek sniffled again, his shoulders still tense.

Cindi didn’t say anything. She just sat there, eating her sandwich like it was the most natural
thing in the world.

Derek took a bite of his sandwich.

They ate in silence.

After a while, his breathing slowed. His heartbeat settled. He wasn’t so mad anymore.

Cindi smiled at him.

Derek didn’t smile back—not yet—but he nudged his plate a little closer to hers, pushing an
apple slice onto her side.

Cindi took it.

And just like that, everything didn’t feel so bad anymore.

***

“Aunt Yvonne,” Morgan greeted softly, leading her to the waiting room, away from the chaos
of the hospital halls.

Aunt Yvonne was already crying, her eyes red and swollen. She didn’t wait for him to speak.
“I was told Desiree saw Cindi.” Her voice trembled with desperation. “Derek Morgan, what
is going on with my daughter?”

Morgan took a deep breath.

From a distance, Sarah watched through the glass window, her eyes scanning the tense
interaction between her brother and Aunt Yvonne. Their voices were inaudible, but the body
language was clear.

Aunt Yvonne yelled something at Morgan before raising her hand and slapping him hard
across the face.

Sarah gasped, frozen in shock.

Aunt Yvonne walked away, leaving Morgan standing there.

He didn’t move, his strong shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt. His gaze was fixed
on the floor.

Sarah’s heart broke watching him, torn between the frustration of what her brother had done
and the overwhelming urge to comfort him. Despite everything, he was still her baby brother.

She just stood there, crying silently. Her emotions tangled in a mess of anger, sorrow, and
love for him.

***

The team discussed the case on the jet, strategizing their approach. Once they arrived in
Chicago, they quickly set up a station at the local police department.

From the security footage, they identified a man named Malcolm Ford—the one who had
taken Cindi. Garcia sent Morgan the images of Malcolm and Cindi.

Morgan’s breath hitched. His heart pounded as he stared at the screen. Cindi. Alive.

He called Hotch. “Hotch, I want to bring this guy in and question him personally.”

Hotch’s voice was steady but firm. “Morgan. Have you told your aunt about any of this?”
A sharp ache pulsed through Morgan’s cheek as the memory of Yvonne’s tear-streaked face
—twisted with desperation and betrayal—flashed in his mind.

He swallowed. “She, uh… yeah.”

“You need to ask her how Malcolm Ford found Cindi,” Hotch said. “I’m sending you Reid.”

***

Reid arrived at the hospital and peeked inside the waiting room. Morgan was sitting with
Yvonne, speaking in hushed tones, his expression tense.

Reid decided not to interrupt and instead made his way to Desiree’s room.

Inside, Sarah was seated by Desiree’s bed, watching over her as she slept. The moment Sarah
saw Reid, she stood abruptly, her composure cracking as tears welled up.

“Spencer.”

“Sarah.” Reid stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. “You okay?”

Sarah let out a shaky breath. “Everything is just...so complicated.”

“Yeah... I know.” Reid glanced at Desiree, who was still deep in sleep. “Do you wanna have
some coffee with me?”

Sarah nodded, wiping her face. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They sat together in the quiet hospital lounge, sipping their coffee from the vending machine.

“Did you talk to Derek?” Sarah asked.

“Not yet. He was with your aunt when I got here.”

Sarah stared at her cup. “Why did he lie to her, Spencer? He didn’t have to say anything.
Why lie?”

“I think... he thought it was best for your aunt.”

Sarah’s expression tightened. “I saw Aunt Yvonne slap him.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly.

Sarah let out a dry laugh. “And you know what I suddenly remembered? When we were kids,
this boy—twice Derek’s size—was bullying me. Derek beat the hell out of him. Broke his
nose. The kid’s parents stormed into our house, demanding an apology. His mother was
furious and slapped Derek across the face.”
Her voice wavered as more tears slipped down. “He never thinks about himself. He’s always
trying to do what’s best for the people he cares about. And he makes these... stupid
mistakes.”

Reid’s gaze softened. “Yeah...”

A quiet lull settled between them, both lost in thought.

Then Sarah murmured, “Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

She looked at him, her expression raw but grateful. “Thank you for being with him.”

“For putting up with him?” he teased, repeating the phrase Desiree had once used.

Sarah chuckled. “Exactly.” Then, after a beat, she sobered. “I know how much Derek
depends on you.”

Reid blinked, caught off guard. A slow blush crept up his neck. “It’s, uh... it’s mutual.”

Sarah didn’t say anything, just smiled knowingly.

Reid stared into his cup, but suddenly, he felt the ache in his chest, the restless tingle in his
arms.
He wanted to hold Morgan and comfort him.

***

After talking to Yvonne, Morgan spotted Reid and Sarah sitting together in the lounge.
Sarah’s shoulders shook as she spoke. Reid sat close, offering silent comfort. Morgan sighed.

His phone rang. Garcia.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice coming out lower than he intended.

“Hey.” Garcia hesitated for half a second, catching the exhaustion in his tone. “Um... I sent
you the case file Chicago PD sent me.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“It’s bad, huh?”

Morgan let out a scoff. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Pause.

“Penelope... can you just talk to me?”

“Where’s your nerd boyfriend?” she asked, trying for lightness.

“He’s talking to Sarah.”

“Oh…”

Garcia took a breath. “Okay, um… I don’t have anything wise or witty to say, except that…”
She sighed. “I’m here for you, okay? I’m right here.”

Morgan closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah. I know you are.” His voice had softened just a little.

After ending the call, he exited the hospital, inhaling deeply as he stepped into the open air.

Just this morning, he had been in Washington, D.C., walking with Reid, breathing in the
warm April air, carrying the sweet scent of cherry blossoms. Feeling fulfilled. Blissful.

Chicago was colder. The air had that lingering bite of winter.

“Morgan.”

Reid’s voice cut through the crisp air, urgent but steady.

“There you are. Hotch said they found Malcolm Ford’s most recent address. We gotta get
back to the station.”

“Okay. I’ll grab my stuff.” Morgan turned to head back inside but hesitated—then, before he
could overthink it, he reached for Reid, pulling him into a firm embrace.

Reid held him without hesitation.

“Morgan—” Whatever he meant to say got lost between them. Instead, he tightened his arms,
willing Morgan to understand.

Morgan did. The warmth of Reid’s embrace settled deep in his chest, steadying him. Strength
flooded back into him—but so did everything else. The weight, the regret, the rawness he
wasn’t ready to release. Not yet. So he just tightened his hold in return. “Reid...”

Reid understood. He murmured, “I know,” squeezing once more before pulling away. “Let’s
go.”

Morgan exhaled, nodded, and followed.

 Rings
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 7, Episode 20. It's April 2012. Reid is 30,
Morgan is 38.

“FBI!!”

Morgan, Reid, and JJ burst into Malcolm Ford’s residence, weapons drawn.

“It's clear here.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

The calls echoed through the empty house. They holstered their weapons and began their
search.

Morgan’s stomach twisted when he spotted a wooden box with a hole cut into it. He
crouched, fingers brushing over the edge.

JJ approached. “What is it?”

“A head box.”

JJ exhaled sharply, her expression grim. “A tool of psychological domination. Designed to

break a victim’s mind.”

Morgan closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow, uneven breath.

Across the room, Reid flipped through a stack of papers. His brows knit together as he pulled
out a document. “It’s a signed slave contract. Cindi’s name is on it.” His voice was quiet but
laced with anger. He lifted another sheet. “And these—proof Malcolm’s connected to a
human trafficking network called The Company.”

The weight of their discovery settled between them like a dark cloud. They relayed their
findings to the rest of the team at the local PD, piecing together Malcolm’s profile.

JJ’s voice was low. “After eight years in captivity, Cindi’s ego is shattered. He’s conditioned
her to believe in The Company.”
Reid added, “She thinks that if she tries to escape or disobey him, The Company will track
her down, kill her, and kill her family.”

Just then, Garcia’s voice cut in over their comms, tense and urgent.

“I just got a 911 call from a grocery store—someone spotted a couple matching their
description.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

But Garcia stopped him. “Morgan, you guys are closer.”

Morgan didn’t wait. He threw the SUV into gear, his grip tight on the wheel as Garcia guided
them to the location.

“I see Malcolm’s car.”

The moment they arrived, the agents sprang into action.

“FBI! Get out of the car and put your hands where I can see them!” Morgan barked.

The driver’s side door creaked open. Malcolm Ford stepped out slowly, his movements
deliberate.

“Hands behind your head! On your knees!”

Reid swept the interior of the vehicle. “Morgan. She’s not here.”

At the sound of Morgan’s name, Malcolm stilled—then, suddenly, he grinned.

“Agent Derek Morgan! Well, well.”

His broad, dark features twisted into amusement and menace. His wide-set eyes gleamed
with delight and cruelty.

Morgan didn’t flinch.

His voice was low and seething. “Where is she?” His grip tightened around his gun. “Where
is she?!”

***

Back at the station, Morgan’s fury radiated off him like heat. He strode toward the
interrogation room, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.

Rossi intercepted him. “Where are you going?”

“I'm going to question him.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.” Rossi’s voice was firm. “Emily, JJ, and Reid are handling the
interrogation.”
“Rossi, come on—”

“No.” Rossi didn’t budge.

Frustrated, Morgan followed him into the monitoring room, where Emily, JJ, and Reid were
deep in discussion, strategizing their approach.

Hotch entered. “How’s it going?”

“He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet,” Rossi said. “He’s baiting us.”

Hotch nodded. “Which means we need to throw him off first.”

“They’re on it,” Rossi added, glancing at the three agents.

But Morgan wasn’t letting it go. “Hotch, he’s expecting me. He thinks he can manipulate me.
Let me go in. I can get in his head.”

Rossi cut him off. “The way he got into yours?”

Morgan’s jaw tightened.

“We can’t give him what he wants,” Hotch said.

Morgan’s frustration boiled over. “Just trust me—I can break him!” His voice rose, sharp
with urgency.

That was when Reid snapped.

“Morgan, please. I’m trying to think!”

Silence fell.

Morgan stared at him, caught off guard.

Reid turned back to Emily and JJ without hesitation, ignoring the tension. His voice was
steady, analytical.

“Malcolm perceives himself as dominant, using intimidation as a control tactic. Initially, I

considered feigning apprehension to play into his expectations, but an alternative approach—
demonstrating a complete lack of fear—could be far more effective.”

Morgan didn’t say anything. His frustration lingered, but his anger faded. He didn’t leave,
didn’t push back. Instead, he crossed his arms and quietly turned his gaze to Malcolm
through the glass.

***
JJ and Emily stepped into the interrogation room, engaged in casual conversation as if
Malcolm Ford wasn’t even there.

“So then I get home, and of course, he’s still up past his bedtime,” JJ said, rolling her eyes
with a smirk.

“Uh-oh,” Emily chuckled as she took her seat. “Reminds me why I’m not married. Does he
ever tell you to quit work?”

JJ scoffed, settling into her chair. “Oh, please. I really don’t need a man to tell me what to
do.”

Emily scoffed too. “Right.”

From behind the observation glass, Reid carefully studied Malcolm’s reaction. The initial
smirk on his face—patronizing, self-satisfied—faltered. His fingers curled slightly on the
table. His jaw tensed just enough to reveal his growing irritation.

JJ and Emily continued, ignoring him entirely.

“Excuse me,” Malcolm finally cut in, his voice clipped.

JJ barely spared him a glance. “Shh. The adults are talking. When it’s your turn to speak, I’ll
give you permission, okay?” She turned back to Emily. “So, anyway...”

“Yeah. Any sleep?”

“Uh, no. Of course not.”

JJ sighed dramatically. “What are we doing here anyway? Oh, yeah.”

Emily flipped open the case file, looking thoroughly bored. “Um... Oh, okay. So, yeah. Mal,
you want to confess now or just go straight to prison?”

Behind the glass, Reid noted the shift. Malcolm’s breathing deepened. His hands, once
relaxed, now rested stiffly on the table. They were hitting his pride, his perceived authority.

“He’s not talking,” JJ shrugged, shutting the file as though she couldn’t be bothered.

Emily sighed, feigning disinterest.

Malcolm’s eyes flicked between them before landing on JJ. “What are you doing here?” he
asked abruptly. “You got a kid at home. You should be home.”

JJ frowned, as if offended.

Malcolm’s smirk returned, pleased with himself. “My wife, Cindi—she knows her role. She
respects and obeys her husband.”

Emily let out a sharp laugh. “After you beat her into signing a contract? Please.”
Malcolm leaned toward Emily, his smug expression growing. “What we have is a bond you
know nothing about.”

JJ and Emily burst out laughing.

“Oh my God…” JJ ran her fingers through her hair, looking amused.

Reid noted something different this time. Malcolm wasn’t just irritated anymore—there was
something else. Beneath his confidence, there was certainty. A foundation that their taunts
hadn’t shaken.

Reid leaned in, eyes narrowing.

Hotch caught the change in his posture. “What is it, Reid?”

“He broke Cindi down. Conditioned her. He made sure she wouldn’t run. But there’s
something else. We’ve seen enough cases like this, Hotch.”

Reid turned to Hotch, speaking faster now. “He chose to address JJ instead of Emily. And the
first thing he said was that she should be home taking care of her child. Then, his confidence
returned the moment he mentioned the ‘bond’ they have.”

Hotch nodded, already piecing it together.

Reid’s voice was certain. “I think they have a child.”

The game had changed.

***

From Malcolm’s phone records, Garcia traced a couple with ties to The Company to a remote
property deep in the woods. The team quickly concluded that Malcolm was hiding the child
there.

They raced to the location, arriving just in time to see shadows slipping into the dense forest.
Malcolm and Cindi had fled with the child.

Morgan spotted movement and took off after them, his pulse hammering in his ears. He could
hear the rustling of branches, footsteps crunching against damp leaves, but the trees cast deep
shadows, making it hard to see.

Then—silence.

But Morgan sensed it. Someone was there, hiding.

“Cindi, it’s me.” His voice was steady, careful. “Cindi, please. It’s Derek.”

A sudden force yanked him backward.

Malcolm.

A belt tightened around Morgan’s throat, cutting off his air. His fingers clawed at the leather,
fighting against the pressure. He twisted, using raw strength and training to break free. With a
sharp strike, he knocked Malcolm to the ground and straddled him, fists clenched.

Then—click.

Morgan froze. Then he looked up.

Cindi stood a few feet away, a gun leveled at him.

“Cindi, wait! Don't shoot! He's gotten you to believe in a lie. The company is not real!”

Cindi’s reply was calm. “I know. Derek, step aside.”

Morgan realized Cindi wasn't aiming at him. She was aiming at Malcolm.

Morgan slowly approached, his hands steady as he reached for her. “Cindi…” He rested a
gentle hand over hers.

Behind them, Malcolm shifted, preparing to lunge.

But JJ and Emily were already there.

“Malcolm Ford, you’re under arrest for kidnapping and child endangerment.”

As they secured him, Morgan turned back to Cindi. Their eyes met, holding a quiet
understanding that stretched longer than the seconds passing between them.

Then, Cindi smiled—the same smile Morgan remembered from their childhood.

Morgan exhaled, his voice soft. “He didn’t brainwash you.”

“No,” she said, her voice steady. “When Desi saw me at that intersection, I knew you’d come
for me.”

Morgan smiled.

Cindi turned toward the trees. “Anthony, come here.”

A small boy, no older than five, peeked from behind a thick trunk. He hesitated, then stepped
forward.

“This is your uncle. He’s come a long way to meet you.”

Morgan’s chest tightened as he looked at the boy. “How you doing, Anthony? My name's
Derek.” He said gently.

Anthony glanced at his mother, then back at Morgan, his lips twitching into a small smile.
Morgan turned to Cindi, “You ready?”

Cindi nodded.

Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and looked back at the boy.

“Let’s go home.”

***

Desiree stepped out of the hospital with Morgan, Fran, and Sarah. Waiting just outside, Reid
stood with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

Desiree’s face lit up. “Spencer!”

Reid smiled, stepping forward to hug her. “Welcome back to freedom.” He handed her the
bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Well, thank you.” She beamed. “Are you staying with us tonight?”

“Is that okay?”

“Of course! I’ve got work for you and Derek.” Desiree grinned mischievously.

Morgan and Reid exchanged puzzled glances.

An hour later, they sat at the table, watching as Desiree placed a small mountain of three-inch
origami squares in front of them.

“I’m having my second graders make origami accessories for the upcoming Mother’s Day,”
Desiree announced.

“I need at least fifty rings. Different sizes, different colors. The kids will decorate them, but I
need you two to do the folding.”

She demonstrated, folding the paper neatly into a long strip, looping it into a ring, and taping
it. “Think you can handle it?”

Morgan smirked. “I was good at art as a kid.”

Reid flicked his gaze toward Morgan, and suddenly, Morgan’s nude photo from art class
popped into his mind—the one Garcia had shared with him last week.

Laughter bubbled up and he shifted in his seat.

Reid lowered his eyes to the paper and murmured, “Is that why you took an art elective at
Northwestern?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

For a while, the house was quiet except for the crisp folds of paper and the soft rip of tape.

Desiree had retreated to her room for lesson planning, and Fran and Sarah had gone out for
groceries. It was just the two of them now, working side by side in comfortable silence.

Reid lost himself in the rhythmic motion of folding, creasing, looping, taping. The little rings
began to pile up between them in a scattering of colors—pinks, yellows, blues, purples.

Then, softly—

“Reid.”

Reid looked up at the sound of his name.

Morgan held a blue origami ring between his fingers, his expression unreadable, something
mischievous but also shy flickering in his dark eyes. Reid barely had time to process it before
Morgan reached for his hand, his touch warm and steady.

Reid’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Morgan slid the ring onto Reid’s finger. It fit perfectly.

Heat rose to Reid’s face. The moment was so quiet, so absurdly intimate, and he suddenly
forgot how to breathe. He looked up, meeting Morgan’s gaze—soft, searching, something
serious lingering there.

Before Reid could find words, Morgan leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek.

Reid’s face burned. His heart thudded in his ears. He looked down at the pile of rings, fingers
hovering over the colors, before picking one—the same shade of blue.

Something swelled in his chest. Something so warm, so overwhelming, he almost wanted to

cry.

Morgan watched him, quiet and patient. Also nervous.

Reid took Morgan’s hand, slid the ring onto his finger. It was too small. He had to push to
make it fit, and they both let out a quiet laugh at the struggle.

Then Reid looked up, met Morgan’s eyes, and smiled—small, shy, but full of something
unspoken.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Morgan’s cheek, just as tender.

Morgan closed his eyes.

Neither of them spoke. They just sat there, sharing quiet, lingering smiles as they resumed
making origami rings.
 JJ’s Wedding
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 7, Episode 23 and 24. It's May 2012.
Reid is 30, Morgan is 38.

On a sunny spring day in May, the Sci-Fi-Gate Convention buzzed with energy and
excitement. The venue was alive with a kaleidoscope of costumes and animated chatter.
Amid the throng of enthusiastic fans, Garcia and Reid strolled along the bustling paths
outside, their eyes alight with anticipation.

Reid, dressed as the iconic Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who, sported a brown fedora and a
colorful scarf that fluttered in the gentle spring breeze. Beside him, Garcia had put her own
spin on the Eleventh Doctor, complete with a fez perched at a jaunty angle and a green
bowtie.

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at 9:00. Can we go to that?” Garcia asked, her voice
bubbling with excitement.

“Absolutely,” Reid replied, his enthusiasm matching hers. “Do you think we can make it to
the Captains of the Enterprise panel at 11:00?”

“Obvs. Thanks for coming with me,” Garcia said, gratitude softening her usual playfulness.

“Of course.”

Their shared excitement propelled them toward the main building, a towering structure
marked by a massive 'Sci-Fi-Gate' sign that gleamed in the sunlight.

Then, Garcia’s steps faltered. Her smile faded. Across the crowd, she spotted a familiar face
—Kevin. And he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood Gina, one of the tech agents from the
Bureau. Kevin’s eyes met hers, and there was no turning back.

“Penelope.”

“Kevin. Hi. You came. And you brought a friend.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably beside her, lips pressed into a thin line.

“How are you?” Garcia forced a smile, hoping to keep things civil.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Also fine,” she said, her smile twitching at the edges. “Okay, well, see ya.”

“You’re not going in?” Kevin asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Nope. We already did. Super lame. We're leaving,” she lied breezily, grabbing Reid’s arm
and steering him away before Kevin could respond.

When they were safely out of earshot, Reid murmured, “That was awkward.”

“Oh my God,” Garcia groaned, “We used to come every year. I can't believe he brought
someone else.”

“Well, you brought someone else,” Reid pointed out.

“Yeah, someone I couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to.” she deadpanned.

Reid frowned. “You're welcome?”

Garcia sighed, her bravado slipping just a little. “Let’s get coffee. I need caffeine to process
this.”

At the cafe, Garcia stirred her iced coffee with unnecessary force, her expression still sour.

Reid had barely taken a sip of his own drink when she fixed him with a sharp look.

“So,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Is Derek good in bed?”

Reid nearly choked on his drink, “Where did that come from?”

“I need a mental palate cleanser, and this seems juicy.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably, glancing around as if hoping for an escape route. There wasn’t
one. With a resigned sigh, he gave in.

“He is good.” Reid admitted, his voice innocent.

“What makes you say that?”

“He is, uh...very gentle.”

A flicker of sass crept into Reid’s shy expression, earning an amused grin from Garcia.

“Gentle, how?”

“How? Uh...” He touched his chin and narrowed his eyes. “He asks me every minute if I’m
okay when he...you know...”

Garcia gasped. “You boys finally went all the way?”

Reid’s lips curled into a proud grin. “Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so happy for you.” Garcia beamed.

“He’s really cute when he trembles, trying to fight the urge to go fast,” Reid added, chuckling
to himself, completely missing the way Garcia’s jaw dropped.

Then Reid sighed deeply.

“What?” Garcia frowned.

“Talking about him makes me miss him.” Reid said, his gaze dreamy.

Garcia kicked his leg under the table.

“Ow!! What was that for?”

***

After leaving the café, they spotted Rossi waiting by the curb for a taxi.

“Whoa, Rossi!” Reid called.

Rossi turned, giving them a slow, unimpressed once-over without so much as a flicker of
surprise.

“Why doesn't this surprise me?” he muttered.

“Are you here for the convention?” Reid asked excitedly.

Rossi stared at him in disbelief. “Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back-to-back
with… this?” He gestured vaguely at their costumes.

Garcia, ignoring the jab, blurted out, “Kevin brought another woman. I'm plotting revenge.
Want to help?” Her expression was deadly serious.

Rossi’s answer was slow and deliberate. “No.”

Garcia sighed dramatically.

With a faint smirk, Rossi added, “Now, you know I love you both, but this is Saturday and it
is my day off, so I'd prefer to love you from afar.”

He flashed a smile and slid into the taxi, leaving them behind with a parting nod.

***

“Sorry to drag you into this on Saturday.”

Emily said to Morgan as they stepped out of a sleek row house in the upscale DuPont Circle
neighborhood. A 'For Sale' sign stood beside the entry stoop.
“My pleasure.” Morgan smiled. “So? What did you think?”

“I don't know.” Emily sighed.

“Emily, what's not to know? It's a beautiful place.”

“There are cracks in the foundation.”

“Cracks can be fixed.”

“No, they can only be hidden. They're still there.”

Morgan lifted an eyebrow. “Honestly? I think it's a solid purchase.”

“I know...” Emily crossed her arms, her answer vague.

Morgan studied her carefully. “Okay. Somebody’s heart is not into it. What's going on?”

Emily lowered her gaze.

“Emily,” Morgan urged, his tone gentler. “What is it?”

Emily sighed. “Clyde Easter called me yerserday.”

Morgan’s brow furrowed. “Interpol?”

She nodded. “He asked me to run the London office.”

Morgan inhaled sharply, his usual ease fading. “And? Are you gonna do it?”

“I told him no.”

“But you're thinking about it.”

“I don't know yet.” Emily bit her lip. “You think I should stay?”

Morgan held her gaze, his eyes intense. “I think I miss you already.”

Emily looked away. That look—warm, piercing, and laced with quiet sadness—tightened the
knot in her chest.

“Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that.”

Morgan let out a quiet scoff. “I can't help it.”

A beat passed before Emily spoke again, her voice softer. “Can I have a hug?”
“Always.”

Without hesitation, Morgan pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he exhaled a deep,
quiet sigh.

***

When Morgan got home, Reid still wasn’t there. Deciding to cook dinner, he set Beethoven’s
Ninth Symphony playing softly in the background—their symphony since Reid’s 26th
birthday.

Saturdays were usually their day. Reid would come over in the morning, and they'd spend the
whole day and night together. But today, they hadn’t seen each other yet, and Morgan missed
him.

Finally, he heard the soft jingle of keys at the door, followed by Clooney’s excited bark as he
bounded toward the entrance. A moment later, Reid stepped inside, greeted by a wagging tail.

“Hey. How was the convention?”

“It was fun,” Reid said with a smile. “How was the house inspection?”

“Emily found some cracks in the foundation—she didn’t like it,” Morgan answered casually,
leaving out the part about Interpol.

“I’ll get those.” Morgan took the garment bags from Reid’s hands. “These for tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Tomorrow, they had a wedding to attend—JJ and Will’s.

The week had been one of chaos, fear, and relief. After the harrowing bank robbery case—
where Will had been held hostage—JJ and Will decided to make their marriage official.

Rossi had arranged a surprise wedding ceremony at his mansion on Sunday evening, inviting
the whole team.

After hanging Reid’s suits in the closet, Morgan returned and pulled him into a warm
embrace. “Reid, I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” Reid murmured, nuzzling into Morgan’s neck before tilting his head up.
“You’re playing the Ninth.”

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan smiled sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to Reid’s lips. “You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

The night fell quickly.

On the bedside table, a small plate held two blue origami rings—one slightly larger than the
other, both carefully placed as if they meant everything.

Morgan was on Reid, cupping his face and kissing him gently. Reid wrapped his arms around
Morgan’s neck, kissing him back with soft, eager warmth, his eyes closed.

“Reid... can we try this position tonight? Facing each other?” Morgan's voice was low and
husky.

Reid’s eyes fluttered open, curiosity and vulnerability mingling in his gaze.

“I want to see your face while I'm inside you.”

A soft flush crept across Reid’s cheeks, but he didn’t shy away. “Yes,” he whispered. “I want
to see your face too.”

Morgan pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before easing Reid’s legs apart with patient care.
He reached for the lubricant, coating his fingers, and began preparing him with slow,
deliberate strokes. Each movement sent waves of heat rolling through Reid’s body, his breath
growing ragged, soft moans spilling from his lips without restraint.

Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off him—the pink flush staining Reid’s skin, the tremble in his
breath, the way his lashes fluttered when pleasure overtook him. Every sound, every twitch
beneath his touch, was an anchor pulling him deeper.

Reid tried to hold Morgan’s gaze, but the intensity became too much. His eyes fell shut as
another moan escaped him.

Morgan kissed the heat blooming across Reid’s cheek. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Reid panted, his voice breathless.

“I need you to lift your legs.”

Reid hesitated, biting his lip with shy embarrassment, but he lifted them as Morgan
requested.

“Higher...” Morgan murmured, guiding his legs carefully until he was holding them with
steady hands.

“Reid, can you look at me?” His voice was gentle—an invitation, not a demand.

Reid opened his eyes, but only for a moment. His lids fluttered shut again, overwhelmed and
unable to hold the gaze.

Morgan didn’t pressure him. Instead, he leaned in, capturing Reid’s lips in a soft kiss.

Slowly, Morgan pushed inside. the stretch drawing a low, guttural moan from him.
Morgan closed his eyes, forcing himself to steady, to hold back the need to move faster.
When he was fully inside, he stopped, his body trembling.

Then Reid’s hands gently cupped his face. Morgan opened his eyes and met Reid’s gaze—
vulnerable, breathless.

“Morgan, you’re inside me,” Reid whispered, his voice shaking. “Do you feel it?”

“I do,” Morgan murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I do. Reid, I love you.”

His hands slid to Reid’s hips, steadying him as he began to move. The heat built fast between
them, desire pulling them under like a tide. Soon, restraint dissolved, and Morgan thrust
deeper, harder, pulling choked cries of pleasure from Reid’s lips.

Reid clung to him, nails digging into his skin. His body trembled beneath Morgan’s as every
snap of his hips sent sparks of bliss through him. Their mouths found each other in
breathless, hungry kisses, breaking only to gasp for air.

Every movement and sound became a blur as they focused on each other, bodies intertwined.
The tension between them grew, building to a peak until it finally broke, flooding them both
with intense, pleasure-filled release.

Afterward, the world slowed.

Morgan stayed inside him, not ready to let go just yet. He pressed a kiss to Reid’s temple,
feeling the soft flutter of his breath against his skin.

“You okay?” Morgan whispered, brushing back a damp curl from Reid’s forehead.

Reid nodded, still catching his breath, his body warm and pliant beneath Morgan’s weight.
“Yeah. I’m perfect.”

Morgan shifted carefully, sliding out of him before gathering Reid close against his chest.
“You were amazing,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of warmth.

Reid let out a contented sigh, pressing his face into the curve of Morgan’s neck. “You always
say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” Morgan kissed the top of his head, one hand trailing softly up and
down Reid’s back. “I love holding you like this.”

A smile tugged at Reid’s lips. “I love it too.”

For a long while, they lay tangled together, wrapped in warmth, in love, in the safety of each
other’s arms.

And neither of them was in any hurry to let go.

***
“Reid. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

“I know.”

Reid emerged from the bedroom, his tall frame standing out in his wedding attire, looking
strikingly handsome. Morgan’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

He wore a classic black jacket, the edges neat and well-fitted, paired with a perfectly tied
bowtie and a crisp white dress shirt.

Reid caught Morgan’s gaze and smirked. “What? Falling for me all over again?”

Morgan laughed, his smile widening. “Maybe.”

Morgan’s affectionate smile never failed to make Reid’s stomach flutter. Morgan stepped
closer, brushing his lips softly over Reid’s.

“You’re stunning,” Morgan murmured against his lips.

Reid chuckled, the sound almost shy. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Morgan’s style was simpler, but it suited him perfectly. He wore a tailored black suit that
accentuated his frame, the black collarless shirt underneath adding to the minimalist
elegance. His posture was confident and relaxed, as though he didn’t need to try at all to look
effortlessly handsome.

“Let’s go.”

With a playful grin, Morgan offered his hand, and Reid took it. Hand in hand, they stepped
out into the cool Spring evening air.

By Sunday evening, Rossi’s mansion had been transformed into a vision of warmth and
romance.

Inside, the house glowed with soft candlelight and twinkling fairy lights along the walls.
Potted trees wrapped in delicate lights added a touch of nature. Ice-filled bowls brimmed
with chilled drinks, while trays of bite-sized hors d'oeuvres invited guests to nibble as they
mingled. Cozy sofas, draped with plush throws, offered a warm retreat for quieter moments.

The yard was breathtaking. Tables were perfectly set across the expansive yard, the grand
fountain at the center casting soft ripples of water.

Lanterns floated in the air, bathing everything in a golden glow. The wedding arch stood tall
and proud, draped in fresh flowers, with delicate petals scattered along the pathway leading
to it.

JJ’s eyes widened in shock when she arrived, her gaze meeting Will’s with a wide smile.
Then, she saw her mother approaching, holding something white and elegant—her wedding
dress.

The moment was perfect.

They gathered for the ceremony. Watching JJ and her mother walking up to the wedding arch,
where Will and Henry waited. The words spoken were soft, almost drowned out by the
emotion in everyone’s eyes. Laughter, quiet tears, and shared glances told the story better
than words ever could.

As the night deepened, the dance floor came alive. Morgan spun Garcia around, her delighted
laughter filling the air. Reid danced with Emily, their steps light and playful, before Emily
cheekily stole Morgan for a dance. Reid smirked, tossing a playful kiss in Morgan’s direction.

And then, finally, it was them. Morgan and Reid.

Morgan’s hand held Reid close, steady and secure. Their bodies pressed together. Reid’s hand
placed gently around Morgan’s arm. Their fingers intertwined in a quiet promise.

They moved together as if the night itself had slowed for them.

The golden light from the lanterns flickered around them, but all Morgan saw was Reid—his
long eyelashes, the pale skin, curly brown hair that was getting a little too long.

Morgan leaned in, his lips brushing against Reid’s cheek, pressing a gentle kiss. His lips
lingered longer than they needed to.

From nearby, Rossi’s teasing voice rang out. “Should we have one more wedding?
Everything’s ready.”

Laughter bubbled around them, but in that moment, all Reid could hear was the quiet murmur
of Morgan’s voice, close to his ear.

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

Reid’s eyes met Morgan’s, shining with something unspoken, something that had always
been there.

“We’ll marry, Reid. We both know that. Don't we?”

Reid smiled, squeezing Morgan’s hand.

“Yes. We do.”

And in that moment, everything felt magical. Surreal. Like a dream they never wanted to
wake from.

Reid’s hand on Morgan’s arm tensed slightly, as though letting go might break the spell.
 Butterfly
Chapter Notes

This story is set after Season 7. It's June, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

“A butterfly?”

“Yeah. It’s been living in my apartment since last week,” Reid said, amusement curling at the
edges of his voice.

“What kind?”

“It’s a Juniper Hairstreak,” he began, his words picking up speed. “They’re these small
butterflies with this really vivid green coloration—like, almost iridescent. They’re not super
common around here because their larvae only feed on Eastern Red Cedar, which, by the
way, isn’t technically a true cedar—it’s actually a species of juniper. Anyway, I was surprised
to see one since their habitat’s pretty limited. I mean, what are the odds of one randomly
showing up in my apartment?”

“Aren’t you gonna catch it?”

“I tried,” Reid said with mild exasperation in his voice. “But it’s fast—way faster than you’d
think for something with a one-inch wingspan. Every time I get close, it just flits off like it’s
mocking me.”

Morgan laughed softly, easily imagining Reid being outmaneuvered by a butterfly.

“Come here,” Morgan said, pulling him closer.

Reid settled onto his lap, and Morgan wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss on his
shoulder.

“I caught a beautiful butterfly,” he teased, grinning when Reid rolled his eyes.

***

The first time he saw the butterfly was Monday after work. His head was pounding with a
migraine—the kind that blurred his vision and made every sound feel too loud. With no
urgent leads on the case, he left early, bringing the file home with him.
Seated at his desk, he flipped through the file, eyes scanning the words without really
processing them. Lost in thought, he rocked his chair back and forth—a habit he never quite
outgrew.

That was when he noticed it.

A tiny butterfly, delicate and bright—a Juniper Hairstreak. It perched on the edge of a case
file, its wings shimmering green in the afternoon light.

The window was open, so it must have flown in by accident. He left it open a little longer,
assuming the butterfly would eventually find its way back out.

But two days later, it was still there. This time, when he spotted it fluttering near the
bookshelf, he tried to catch it—planning to release it in the morning. But the second his
hands got close, it darted away, too quick for him.

And this morning—Saturday—before leaving for Morgan’s place, he saw it again.

He sighed. It had been at least five days. He couldn’t leave the window open while he was
gone.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, he made a quick nectar substitute by mixing sugar and water,
soaked a folded tissue in the solution, and placed it carefully on the desk.

Just in case it got hungry.

***

Another week passed, and June arrived. As usual, Morgan went back to Chicago for his
birthday weekend. This year, he was especially excited to catch up with his cousin Cindi and
her son Anthony.

Surprisingly, the butterfly was still alive in Reid’s apartment. He knew, under the right
conditions, it could survive around two weeks on a sugar solution.

Lately, the headaches had returned—not as intense as last year, but enough to unsettle him.
Still, the resilience of a tiny butterfly, clinging to life against the odds, gave him a strange
sense of comfort.

But he wasn’t naïve. Reid knew the butterfly's time was nearly up. It wouldn't be long before
he found it motionless—maybe today, maybe tomorrow.

***

Reid had bought Morgan a new coffee maker for his birthday.

The evening Morgan flew back to D.C., Reid showed up at his door with a large box.
His excitement was palpable. He almost tore the wrapping open himself.

“You clearly bought this for yourself,” Morgan chuckled.

Reid didn’t deny it.

“If you move in with me, you can use it every morning, you know.” Morgan teased, grinning
as he kissed Reid.

“Do you wanna have coffee? Let’s try it now,” Reid said eagerly, eyes sparkling.

“I’d rather have you. Coffee later.” Morgan kissed him again, his hands drifting to Reid’s tie.

“Coffee first. You can have me later.” Reid’s tone was firm, though playful.

“Fine,” Morgan relented with a laugh. “I’ll get the coffee and cups.”

Reid eagerly inspected the new machine, a grin stretching across his face.

When Reid casually looked up, his eyes widened in surprise.

A butterfly was perched on the top rail of the chair. A tiny, beautiful Juniper Hairstreak.

“Oh my God.”

Reid narrowed his eyes at the butterfly.

“Morgan, look at this.” Reid let out a soft laugh, disbelief lacing his voice.

“What is it?” Morgan asked, stepping over with a bag of coffee beans and two cups.

“This.” Reid pointed toward the butterfly.

“What?” Morgan glanced over, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Reid blinked, looked from Morgan to the butterfly, then back to Morgan—and then it hit him.
A jolt of realization, like lightning striking his body. His face drained of color.

Morgan wasn’t seeing the butterfly.

“Reid?” Morgan’s tone shifted, concern replacing the teasing. “You okay?”

Reid forced a smile, but it felt fragile. “Yeah. I just... thought I saw something. Eye floaters,
maybe...”

“You must be tired.” Morgan stepped closer, pulling him into a soft hug. “Let’s have coffee in
the morning. I’ll give you a massage.”
Reid nodded, though dread was washing over him. He hoped Morgan didn’t notice the way
his breath hitched, the panic crawling up his spine.

From the safety of Morgan’s arms, he glanced back at the chair.

The butterfly was still there.

 Chain of Pain
Chapter Notes

This story is set after Season 7. It's June, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

The Wharf was quiet on a weekday night. The June breeze was cool and just right, carrying
the faint scent of saltwater and distant laughter from a nearby bar.

That morning, Reid had heard directly from Emily—she’d decided to accept the position as
Chief at Interpol’s London office. She had broken the news gently, but the ache in his chest
had lingered long after. Noticing how disheartened he was, she invited him out for a
nighttime walk along the pier after work.

They strolled quietly along the fence of Recreation Pier, each holding a coffee.

“The swings are open,” Reid said, nodding toward the oversized, arch-shaped swings. Each
one was big enough for two adults to sit together, and they were normally occupied by
families and couples. But now, they stood empty beneath the soft glow of the lamp posts
lining the pier.

“Let’s do it,” Emily grinned, her voice light and teasing.

They placed their coffees on a nearby bench and settled onto one of the swings together. For
a moment, they simply swayed in sync—until Reid suddenly stood on the swing, shifting his
weight to make it soar higher.

“Reid!” Emily yelped, grabbing the side rail with both hands as he laughed.

“Hold on tight!” He pumped harder, the wind ruffling his hair as he let out a loud, carefree
howl. “Whoooo!”

Never one to back down, Emily stood on the swing too, using her legs to drive it even higher
as payback. Reid lurched forward with a startled laugh, clutching the railing. “Whoa!”

“Better watch out!” she warned, still pumping, breathless with laughter. “Derek told me you
once fell off a boat losing your balance!”

“I’m gonna fall—” Reid's words dissolved into helpless laughter. “Alright! Alright! I
surrender!” he cried and Emily finally slowed down. Both were laughing and panting.

After their breathing steadied, they grabbed their coffees and settled onto the bench. The
quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was the kind of silence that felt safe, as if they could
sit there forever without speaking a word.
At last, Emily broke the silence. “There’s a pier in London kind of like this,” she said softly.
“Canary Wharf Pier. We’ll walk there together, right? You’ll visit?”

Reid lowered his gaze, unsure if he could meet her eyes without letting the tears fall.

“Yeah,” he answered after a beat.

Emily placed a gentle hand over his. “I’ll visit you regularly. I promise.”

“I know.” Reid managed a brief smile, but the weight of Emily's worried gaze pressed down
on him.

Reid exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Honestly, compared to the months I thought
you were dead, this isn’t hard at all.”

Emily shrugged, her expression softening. “Fair point.”

His smile faded. “It’s just... the timing kind of sucks.”

“Why?” Her voice was careful, probing without pushing. “You and Derek seem like the
happiest couple in the world. And work’s going well.”

He hesitated, wrestling with the words before finally letting them out. “My headaches are
back. And... I’ve been seeing things.”

Emily’s body stiffened, her hand instinctively squeezing his. “What kind of things?”

“A butterfly. It’s been around my place for a while now.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yeah. I’m scheduled for another MRI. Because of my mom’s history and the hallucinations,
a geneticist will be reviewing the scans, too.”

Emily almost said, ‘Not all hallucinations mean schizophrenia,’ but bit her tongue. Reid
didn’t need reassurance—he knew the odds better than anyone. A mother with schizophrenia,
unexplained visions, and no external triggers—it was hard to ignore what it could mean.

“Does Derek know?”

Reid froze, his silence lingering a moment too long before he answered. “Not yet.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between them.

“Spencer, it won't change anything. You and Derek.”

“It will change everything.” His voice was quiet but unwavering.

“You love each other so fiercely.”

“The stronger we love, the more it hurts. It’s a chain reaction of pain.”
“Reid...”

“Living with my mom was hard—watching her suffer, seeing her deteriorate. But it was
worse for her. When she had those rare moments of clarity… realizing what she was putting
me through broke her every time. And life just… goes on, without either of us knowing when
or how it will end.”

Emily didn’t know what to say.

When his shoulders trembled and quiet tears began to fall, she moved closer, her hand tracing
slow, comforting circles on his back.

Her heart ached at the sound of his soft, broken breaths, each one a fragile attempt to hold
himself together.

“Oh, Spencer... come here.”

He didn’t resist when she pulled him into a hug, his body leaning into hers as he clung to her
warmth, letting the tears fall.

***

When Reid returned to his apartment, he tossed his bag and keys onto the coffee table and
collapsed onto the couch.

Since they started dating, he’d always promised himself that if he ever developed
schizophrenia, he would walk away. But happiness had made him careless—had lowered his
guard.

At JJ’s wedding, dancing under the lantern lights with Morgan, he’d let himself believe
they’d already reached their happy ending.

--We’ll marry, Reid. We both know that. Don’t we?--

Morgan’s words echoed in his mind.

At the time, when Reid had said yes, he’d meant it with his whole heart.

More tears welled up, even though he thought he’d cried them all out on Emily’s shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up and wiped his face. For now, all he could do was go through
with the MRI and wait for the results.

His gaze fell to the coffee table. A butterfly rested delicately on his keychain. He was used to
it by now—no longer startled by its presence. It perched right in the middle of the initials
D.M. & S.R.

“Are you trying to break us up?” Reid asked softly.

The butterfly remained still, its wings moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

***

After graduating from Las Vegas High School at age 12, Spencer attended a local university
for two years before transferring to Caltech.

His mother, Diana, kept insisting he was wasting time there, but Spencer was too young to be
accepted at Caltech—and he wasn’t ready to leave her in the care of a mental health aide.

Those two years were brutal. Diana’s condition was deteriorating, and without Aidan—who
had always been there when things got tough—Spencer felt more alone than ever.

Aidan had moved on to the University of Southern California, a prestigious school known for
its criminal justice and sports programs.

That morning began like so many others, with the familiar shuffle of his mother’s slippers
echoing through the house.

“Spencer!” Diana’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent. “Come here! Now!”

Spencer sighed, setting down his book and stepping into the kitchen. His mother stood at the
counter, hands trembling as she clutched a loaf of bread still wrapped in plastic.

“They’ve tampered with it,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the window and back. “You
see it, don’t you? The packaging is wrong. It’s different. They’re trying to poison us.”

Spencer hesitated. He had learned not to argue. “Maybe it’s just a new design,” he suggested
gently, though he knew it wouldn’t help.

“No, no, no!” she snapped, gripping the bread tighter. “You can’t trust them. They’re always
watching, always listening.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I saw them
again last night, Spencer. Outside the window. Black suits, dark car. The one with the scar
under his left eye—he kept tapping a cigarette against the window frame, even though it
wasn’t lit.”

Spencer glanced at the window. The blinds were drawn, as they always were.

Diana’s descriptions were so vivid—down to the smallest detail—that sometimes Spencer

marveled at how powerful the human brain could be, even as it unraveled.

“I’ll check, okay?” he offered, trying to calm her. He pulled the blinds apart and peeked
outside. Their street was quiet, save for a stray cat slinking by. “No one’s there, Mom. It’s
safe.”
“Safe?” Diana scoffed, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. They’re clever. Invisible.
They’ll get to you when you least expect it.”

“Let’s make breakfast,” he said, steering the conversation away from her paranoia. “We can
have eggs instead of toast.”

Her expression softened slightly, though the suspicion never quite left her eyes. “Eggs are
safe,” she murmured. “For now.”

Spencer moved quickly, cracking eggs into a pan while keeping a watchful eye on her. She
drifted toward the living room, muttering about hidden microphones. He didn’t have the heart
to remind her—again—that the “microphones” were just electrical outlets.

“Mom, breakfast is ready,” he called a few minutes later.

Diana appeared in the doorway, her expression wary. She sat at the table but didn’t touch the
food. “They’re watching us, you know,” she said. “Every move we make.”

Spencer took an exaggerated bite of his eggs. “See? It’s fine. No one’s poisoning us.”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on her plate, distant and unfocused.

Spencer checked the clock. He’d already be late for his first class. With a sigh, he stood to
prepare her medication.

The University of Nevada, Las Vegas was 11 miles from home—a journey that took 14-year-
old Spencer nearly an hour by bike.

He decided to at least attend his favorite professor’s class, then raced back home, sweat-
soaked and exhausted.

The rest of the day was a cycle of chaos. Diana’s moods swung wildly—sometimes lucid
enough to read aloud from her favorite books, other times lost to paranoia. She paced the
apartment, checking locks and peering through curtains.

“That’s the man from last week,” she would whisper, scribbling down imaginary license
plates of cars that didn’t exist.

By dinner time, Spencer’s patience wore thin. “Mom,” he said, as gently as he could, “the
phone isn’t tapped. We barely use it.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” she hissed, clutching the receiver like it might turn
against her.

By evening, he was drained. Curled up on the couch with a textbook, he tried to focus while
his mother muttered about government conspiracies. When she finally fell asleep, the
apartment grew quiet—just the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the clock.

Spencer exhaled in relief.

He glanced over at her—peaceful for the first time all day—and despite everything, love
swelled painfully in his chest. She was his mother, and she loved him more than anything.
And he loved her just as much.

One day, coming home from school, Spencer found her in the kitchen—cutting her arm.

“Mom!” The word tore from his throat as he lunged forward, knocking her backward with a
heavy thud. The knife clattered to the floor.

The cut was shallow, but the sight of her blood sent him spiraling into panic. “Why?” he
cried. “Why would you do that? Why, Mom?!”

“Spencer—” Diana tried to explain, reaching to cup his face, but he was sobbing too hard to
hear her.

“Are you leaving me?” His voice trembled with raw terror. “Is that what you’re doing? Are
you leaving me, Mom?!”

“Spencer!” Her own tears fell fast as she raised her voice, desperate to reach him. “Baby,
don’t be ridiculous—I would never leave you!”

She forced him to meet her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, baby. I was trying to get the
chip out of my body.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. His body trembled violently. “What… what chip?”

Her mouth opened to explain—but something in his face, the sheer terror in his eyes, stopped
her.

Suddenly, clarity pierced through the fog.

Her posture crumbled as she glanced at the cut on her arm—at the horror etched across her
son’s face.

“Oh, Spencer…” Her voice broke. “There’s no chip, is there?”

He shook his head, tears slipping down his face. “No, Mom. There isn’t.”

Guilt twisted her features as she stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Mom.”

And there—on the cold kitchen floor—they held each other and wept.
 Desperate
Chapter Notes

This story is set after Season 7. It's June, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

Morgan had been noticing that Reid was acting strangely these days. At first, it made sense—
it started around the time he found out about Emily leaving the BAU. But something still
didn’t add up. What felt off was how hard Reid was trying to act normal in front of him, and
that bothered Morgan.

Over the years, their relationship had deepened to the point where neither of them felt the
need to hide their emotions. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness—it was a testament to their
trust.

If Reid was sad, he would grieve openly in front of Morgan. He would cry and ask for
comfort. If he was upset, he would let his anger show. If depression crept in, Morgan was the
one who held him through it. And Morgan did the same in return.

But not this time.

Now, Reid came to Morgan’s house cheerfully. He talked a lot, smiled a lot. When Morgan
kissed him, he kissed back eagerly, flashing that endearing, shy smile Morgan loved so much.

But when Morgan stole quiet glances at him, he often caught Reid staring at something. His
face would pale, a shadow creeping over his features. And Morgan didn’t like it. It gnawed at
him, stirring an unease he couldn’t shake. Whenever that happened, Morgan would pull Reid
into a tight hug, holding him as if he could keep whatever was haunting him at bay.

When they made love, Reid touched him with a frantic urgency. Their intimacy was
passionate—overflowing with love—but underneath it, Morgan sensed a desperation. Even
after they finished, Reid clung to Morgan, like he was afraid that if he let go, he’d lose him
forever.

And Morgan held him. No matter how long it took, he kept Reid close until the tension
melted from his body. Some nights, they stayed that way until morning, wrapped around each
other in the dark, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

***

The new case that emerged this week involved an unsub with schizophrenia. It wasn’t
uncommon, and normally, Reid could handle it. But this time, maintaining his composure felt
like an uphill battle. During the profile delivery, he stood quietly at the back of the room, his
face pale.
“We believe our unsub is a white male paranoid schizophrenic who suffers from
hallucinations.” Hotch started.

“During the day, he’s most likely a loner. He kills at night and is extremely violent. Voices
are telling him to do so.”

“Someone in this state probably can’t keep a job. His social circle is extremely limited.”

“Our unsub spends his days wandering, trying to fight the desire to kill, yet he feels trapped
by his hallucinations.”

“No matter what he does or tries to do, the hallucination’s power is greater than his own.”

Each statement from his teammates echoed in Reid’s head like a curse. The words clawed at
his thoughts, stirring an anxiety he could barely contain. Without a word, he slipped out of
the room and retreated to the men’s restroom.

A familiar butterfly perched on the edge of the sink.

“Go away,” he muttered, swatting at the hallucination before leaning over to splash cold
water on his face.

As he yanked a paper towel from the dispenser, the door creaked open. Morgan.

“I saw you leave the room,” Morgan said, his voice low and steady.

Before Morgan could ask anything else, Reid started talking. “You know, that profile kind of
makes it sound like schizophrenia leads to serial killing.”

“That’s not what we said at all, Reid,” Morgan replied softly, watching him closely.

“There are many different types of schizophrenia.” Reid’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor.
“Catatonic, disorganized, residual... Just because someone suffers from disorganized thoughts
or hallucinations, it doesn’t mean they’d stab someone in the chest thirty times postmortem.”

His words spilled out rapidly. Morgan took a step closer, concern deepening the lines on his
face.

“Reid... I know this is a scary age for you. You’ve told me the risk temporarily stops
declining around thirty. Are you worried?”

Reid’s long lashes fluttered as he lifted his gaze. For a moment, his vulnerability cracked
through the facade.

“Morgan, kiss me.”

“Reid, let’s not avoid talking about this,” Morgan said gently, though his heart ached at the
desperation in Reid’s voice.

“Kiss me,” Reid repeated, his voice more urgent.

Before Morgan could respond, Reid surged forward, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss. The
force of it pushed Morgan against the wall. For a brief moment, Morgan hesitated—before he
melted into it, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Reid's head, fingers tangling in soft
hair. Reid’s arms looped around his neck as the kiss deepened, heat flaring between them.

The door swung open, and a young local officer froze in place. “Whoa!” he yelped before
hastily backing out and shutting the door.

Reid pulled back, a sheepish smile flickering across his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Morgan chuckled softly, brushing a hand through Reid’s hair. “It’s alright. Let’s get back to
work. We’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

***

Morgan came to Reid’s apartment the night they flew back to Quantico from Oregon.

Reid had changed into his navy blue pajamas and was wearing his glasses. Morgan smiled
and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Reid’s lips.

“I got you a souvenir from Portland,” Morgan said, handing him a small, cubic box labeled
Smith Teamaker.

“A souvenir? But I was there with you.” Reid chuckled softly, the sound lighter than Morgan
expected.

“It’s their famous Lord Bergamot—locally blended Earl Grey,” Morgan explained.

“Thanks.” Reid examined the box curiously. “Let’s try it now.”

The tea filled the air with a sweet, calming scent.

Morgan took a sip, then placed his mug down. “So… do you wanna tell me why you’ve been
acting weird lately?”

Reid stared down at his tea, his fingers tightening around the cup.

Then he shook his head.

“Reid…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Reid said quietly, not meeting his gaze.

“Reid, please…” Morgan leaned closer, cupping Reid’s face gently. His touch was warm, but
his eyes—filled with love and worry—tightened Reid’s chest. He shut his eyes.

“Kiss me,” Reid whispered.

Morgan obliged, brushing a very soft kiss against his lips.

Reid responded immediately, his mouth desperate as his hand slid to the back of Morgan’s
neck, pulling him closer.

The urgency in his touch sent a ripple of unease through Morgan. He pulled back.

“Reid, we need to talk.”

Ignoring his words, Reid straddled Morgan’s lap, making Morgan’s pulse stutter.

Between fevered kisses, Reid murmured, “Make love to me,” his voice raw.

His lips trailed from Morgan’s ear to his jawline, then lower, warm breath brushing against
his neck. He hastily started unbuttoning his pajama top, his need for contact almost frantic.

“Reid... wait.”

“Please,” Reid whispered, his tone cracking. “Make love to me.” One side of his pajama
slipped down his shoulder, revealing pale skin that made Morgan’s chest ache.

Morgan caught his hands gently, stilling them. “No,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Not
like this. I’m not going to have sex with you just to distract you from whatever’s eating you
up inside.”

Reid froze. His face shuttered as he stopped unbuttoning, his voice turning cold.

“Fine.”

But the slight tremor in his clenched jaw betrayed him. Reid was fighting back tears.

Morgan felt helpless. The sight of Reid cut through him. Reid’s pajama top hung open,
exposing the delicate lines of his chest, making him seem far too vulnerable.

Silently, Morgan reached out and began fastening the buttons again, fingers moving with
infinite care.

“Reid. I love you.” Morgan whispered. “Let’s just sleep tonight. Okay?”

Reid didn’t speak, but after a breathless moment, he gave a small, fragile nod.

In bed, Reid clung to Morgan’s shoulders tightly. Above them, the butterfly flitted lazily.

How rude.

Reid resented the butterfly who intruded on their intimate space.

Morgan felt the tension in Reid’s grip and glanced down, catching him glaring at the ceiling.
Without a word, he kissed Reid’s cheek softly, pouring all his gentleness into the touch.
He held Reid close and rubbed his back soothingly. He was determined to protect him and
comfort him until whatever fear haunted him finally loosened its grip.

Morgan woke up in the middle of the night to strange noises. Reid was no longer in his arms,
and the glow of the living room light spilled under the door.

Quietly, Morgan opened the bedroom door and peeked into the living room. Reid was on his
knees, frantically slamming a cushion against the sofa. Feathers and dust swirled through the
air, twisting unnervingly in the dim glow of the side lamp.

“Reid... what are you doing?”

Morgan stepped closer, keeping his voice steady. Reid’s expression was unreadable, his
pupils wide and glassy—like he was somewhere else entirely.

“Reid, stop it. Please.”

At the sound of Morgan’s voice, Reid froze. He lowered the cushion and sat motionless on
the floor.

Morgan crouched down, his heart pounding. “Reid, look at me. What happened?”

Suddenly, Reid’s voice rang out—sharp and broken.

“I can't catch the butterfly!”

“Reid, what are you—”

“I can't catch that fuckin’ butterfly, Morgan!!”

His voice cracked like a whip, and then something inside him seemed to snap.

A violent sob tore out of Reid’s chest—loud and jagged. He clutched his face with both
hands, his whole body convulsing under the weight of his breakdown.

For a heartbeat, Morgan could only watch as Reid unraveled, shock pinning him in place.
Then he pulled him into a fierce embrace, desperately trying to shield him from whatever
invisible threat.

“Reid, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you,” Morgan murmured, holding him tighter, though he
didn't quite know what he was protecting Reid from.
 Catching the Butterfly
Chapter Notes

This story is set after Season 7. It's June, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

“You're hallucinating?”

Reid nodded, tears slipping down his face in steady streams.

“Since when?”

“After JJ's wedding.”

The silence that followed was heavy—thick with tension, pressing in on both of them.

Morgan's gaze burned into him, too intense to bear. But Reid forced himself to meet it. There
was no turning back now.

“Morgan.” Reid's voice trembled, but his words cut through the night like a blade.

“I can't be with you anymore. I'm sorry.”

It was a quiet, but solid declaration.

But it didn’t move Morgan. Not even a little.

“What, you're breaking up with me?” Morgan scoffed, disbelief curling at the edges of his
voice.

“Yes.” Reid's answer came without hesitation.

“No,” Morgan said flatly. “I'm not breaking up with you because of some stupid butterfly.”

He grabbed the cushion from the floor and tossed it back onto the sofa, as if that settled the
matter.

“Come on,” he said, “We'll get some rest.”

***

Saturday morning, Morgan knocked on Reid’s apartment door, still in his jogging gear.

“Why didn’t you come over this morning?” Morgan asked, his voice carrying a hint of
irritation.
“Morgan...” Reid started, but Morgan cut him off.

“You didn’t even call,” Morgan complained, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Can
I take a shower?”

It wasn’t really a question. He walked straight to Reid’s bedroom, flinging open the closet
doors. He frowned. The section of Reid’s closet where Morgan usually kept his clothes was
empty.

“Where are my clothes?”

Reid hesitated. “They’re... in a box.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, quickly spotting a large box beside Reid’s bed. He knelt down,
opening it to find his clothes folded neatly inside.

“I was going to drop them off at your place later,” Reid explained.

“No need,” Morgan grumbled, upending the box and dumping the contents onto the bed. He
began putting them back into the closet, hanging up shirts and shoving underwear and other
items into the drawers without bothering to fold them.

After his shower, Morgan emerged and settled on the sofa, looking over at Reid.

“So, what do you want to do today?”

Reid rubbed his forehead. “Morgan, I said I can’t be with you anymore.”

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “And I said I’m not breaking up with you because of a butterfly.”

Reid let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t argue.

“Come on. Let’s go out.” Morgan stood and reached for Reid’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

Reid eyed him suspiciously as they climbed into the car.

“Botanic Garden,” Morgan replied with a grin.

“What?” Reid frowned. “Why?”

“There are so many butterflies, you wouldn’t know which ones are hallucinations.”

Reid looked at Morgan in disbelief. “Even you know that’s not how you deal with
hallucinations.”

“Why not?” Morgan said, keeping his tone light.

Reid scoffed. “So, if I hallucinate terrorists, are you going to throw me into a terrorist den so
I can’t tell which ones are hallucinations?”

Morgan smirked. “No. I’ll think of something else.”

Reid let out another scoff, half annoyed, half amused.

Soon, they arrived at the United States Botanic Garden. The sprawling grounds stretched out
before them, and Reid’s mood lifted as they entered the Conservatory.

The Tropics exhibit was stunning—93 feet tall with a creek winding through the center, and
an array of exotic butterflies flitting among vibrant flowers.

“Morgan, look at this blue butterfly. It's called the Blue Morpho. Those blue wings aren’t
actually blue because of pigment. It’s all due to microscopic scales that reflect and refract
light, like a living hologram.”

Morgan smiled as he watched Reid ramble.

“Morgan...” Reid hesitated before pointing at a small, green butterfly. “This is the...This is
the Juniper Hairstreak.”

Morgan leaned in to take a closer look.

“You can see it, right?” Reid asked, his voice laced with a touch of doubt.

“Yeah. I see it.” The tiny butterfly looked harmless, almost fragile.

Morgan smiled at Reid, warmth in his eyes. “It’s pretty.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to
Reid’s temple.

***

When they returned to Reid’s apartment, the butterfly was waiting—perched on a book on
the coffee table.

The optimism Reid had felt in the garden faded fast. Here, in the stark quiet of his apartment,
the butterfly’s presence felt too loud. The warmth of their laughter and easy excitement from
earlier seemed to drain away.

But he didn’t want to disappoint Morgan.

So he pretended not to see it while it fluttered around Morgan for the rest of the day. At one
point, he even noticed the scales the butterfly had shed on Morgan’s shoulder.

The sight made his stomach twist with dread.

By dinner, Reid had grown quiet, the soft clinking of cutlery filling the silence between them.

“Are you staying?” Reid asked hesitantly.

“I am,” Morgan said, his tone almost defiant. “Or do you wanna come to my house?”

Reid’s gaze stayed fixed on a point on the table.

“Reid?”

“Hm?”

“I asked if you want to come to my house.”

“Why?”

“Because that's where we always sleep on Saturdays.”

“No, I, uh… I'm supposed to call the geneticist tomorrow morning.”

His eyes flicked back to the same spot.

Morgan sighed. He knew what Reid was looking at.

“Reid… it's just a butterfly.”

Reid didn’t answer. The butterfly folded its wings as if to flaunt the intricate beauty beneath
—a shimmering green base accented by a white zig-zag line and two broken rows of delicate
dashes.

“I'll catch it,” Morgan said, breaking the silence.

Reid lifted his head and gave him a look like he was the dumbest person alive.

“Morgan, don't be silly.”

“Silly? That's exactly what you were doing two days ago.”

Reid just looked glum.

“It’s here?” Morgan asked, pointing toward the spot Reid was staring at.

“Yeah.”

“Okay…”

Morgan imagined a small, green butterfly.

He cupped his right hand and slowly lowered it, holding his breath. His muscles tensed, and
for a moment, he stayed perfectly still.
Then, with lightning speed, he clapped his hand over the spot.

“Got it!” Morgan declared triumphantly.

“No. It flew away,” Reid said, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on, Reid. You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“Are you telling me I wasn’t fast enough?”

“I’m telling you it flew away.”

Morgan kept his cupped hand on the table. “You’re saying that because you can never catch
it, but I did—on my first try.”

Reid let out a soft, genuine laugh.

“Where did it go then?” Morgan asked.

Reid glanced around. “I can’t see it.”

“It might be in here.” Morgan tilted his head toward his closed hand.

“Okay. Lift your hand. We’ll see,” Reid said, still half-laughing.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan slowly lifted his hand.

Reid’s jaw dropped.

“It’s there!” he laughed, eyes wide with disbelief. “Morgan, it’s there! It’s there!”

Morgan laughed too. The whole thing was getting so ridiculous. They high-fived, laughter
echoing through the room.

“Reid.”

Morgan gently touched his cheek, bringing Reid’s gaze to his. When their eyes met,
Morgan’s smile was warm, steady, offering silent reassurance. The playfulness on Reid’s face
faded into something raw and emotional.

Morgan leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Reid’s lips. The kiss lingered—soft and careful.
This time, Reid didn’t kiss him back fiercely like before. It stayed warm and tender.

His hand still resting on Reid’s cheek, Morgan wished they could hold onto this moment
forever, that somehow, everything would be okay.
 Catching the Butterfly (2)
Chapter Notes

This story is set after Season 7. It's July, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

Morgan wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of his relationship with Reid.

Reid hesitated, unsure of how to navigate everything, but Morgan wasn’t giving him a
choice.

Morgan was steadfast. Unyielding. He moved forward as if there were no obstacle at all,
confident that Reid would come to understand. He believed that whatever mental condition
Reid faced, it was simply another part of life. They would embrace it together. Morgan was
ready to accept it all—because it was part of Reid, and he loved every part of him—all of
him.

***

Reid shifted in Morgan's arms, the bed creaking softly beneath them.

He no longer felt the desperate, frantic need for Morgan that had consumed him in the past
few weeks.

His touch was hesitant, uncertain. He peeled off Morgan's shirt, pressing a tentative kiss to
his chest. His breaths came out shaky. He had always been mesmerized by Morgan's dark,
warm skin.

Morgan responded with nothing but gentleness and care. There were no words, no rush.
Morgan removed Reid's clothes slowly, tenderly running his hands over his body and
pressing soft kisses along his bare torso.

But then Morgan noticed Reid’s gaze shifting, his eyes following the butterfly.

“Reid, just focus on me,” Morgan said softly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah...” Reid murmured.

But soon, Reid tensed again, catching the flutter at the edge of his vision.

“Close your eyes, Reid. Close your eyes.”

Reid obeyed and shut his eyes. But the instant he did, he heard it—the faint flutter of wings.
When the sound stopped, a chill crawled through him as he felt the butterfly land—delicate
legs brushing against his arm. His breath hitched at the unnerving sensation.

Go away... go away... go away...

Morgan saw the tears trailing down Reid’s cheeks.

“Reid... please don’t cry.”

Reid opened his eyes, meeting Morgan’s gaze. His eyes were full of love, as deep as an
ocean.

“Morgan, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Reid gently pushed Morgan away and sat up.

Morgan followed, sitting up and pulling Reid into a reassuring hug. “It’s okay. Baby, it’s
okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Reid repeated, his voice muffled in Morgan’s arms.

“Let’s just sleep, okay? Don’t worry about anything.”

Reid lay there, cradled in Morgan’s arms, feeling the intensity of Morgan’s unwavering
determination to protect him. He knew that Morgan wouldn’t sleep until he did.

But it didn’t give him comfort. It didn’t give him reassurance. Instead, it made him sad.

Unbearably sad.

***

Morgan stared at the MRI results, his mind racing.

He had come to Reid’s apartment straight after work—he couldn’t wait until the weekend to
hear about the test results.

Reid explained,
“The MRI from last year ruled out brain tumors, strokes, or temporal lobe epilepsy. This
time, they looked for subtle changes associated with schizophrenia, like enlarged ventricles
or cortical thinning. But they couldn’t find any.”

“Okay… so, that’s good, right?”

Reid sighed, snatching the paper from Morgan’s hands. “No. It means I need more tests. Now
I’m waiting for the EEG results.”

“What’s an EEG again?”

“Electroencephalogram. It detects abnormal electrical activity linked to seizure-related

hallucinations. Then there’s genetic testing, which could take about three months.”
“But you don’t have seizures.”

“Focal seizures can cause hallucinations without physical convulsions. Like occipital lobe
seizures.”

“When will you get the EEG results?”

“In two weeks.”

“So, July 28th.”

Morgan took the MRI results from Reid’s hands again, still looking for answers.

“What’s a ‘FLAIR sequence’?”

“What does ‘no midline shift’ mean?”
“It says ‘no mass effect.’ Is that good?”

Morgan fired off question after question. He knew Reid was reluctant to talk about it, but
Morgan needed to understand everything.

After Morgan left, Reid let out a heavy sigh.

It hurt to see Morgan trying so hard to stay positive. His love—his unwavering devotion—
only made it harder. Reid didn’t want to let him down, but carrying that weight was
exhausting.

And this was just the beginning...

Reid dragged a hand over his face, another sigh slipping out.

This would become their life. With every test result, every doctor’s appointment, every shift
in his symptoms, Morgan would swing between hope and despair. Between optimism and
fear. Just like Reid had with his mother.

And he couldn’t stand the thought of putting Morgan through it.

***

There wasn’t a single day Reid didn’t cry when he was with Morgan.

They kept repeating the same cycle. Again and again.

Morgan would lift him up, and for a while, there’d be lightness. Moments filled with hope.
Then came the inevitable meltdown.

“I can’t be with you. I’m sorry. It’s hard. It’s too hard for me,” Reid would sob.

Tonight was no different.

They sat at the table in Morgan’s house, having the same conversation. Morgan had lost track
of how many times they’d been here.

“Reid, we’ll go through this together,” Morgan said quietly. “We’ll wait for the test results,
get treatments, do whatever it takes. The rest—we’ll just live. Enjoy life together. I know it’s
hard. I know it’s scary. But I’m with you. I’ll always be with you.”

“No, Morgan. The truth is... it’s harder with you.”

Reid’s voice trembled as fresh tears fell.

“It hurts you when I’m in pain. And when you hurt, it tears me apart. You ride the highs and
lows of every symptom, every test. And I’m scared—terrified—that if I get worse, it’ll break
your heart.”

“It wouldn’t,” Morgan said, his voice firm. “If you get worse, we’ll face it. Together.”

“You catch butterflies for me,” Reid choked out. “Over and over again. You’ll keep catching
them for the rest of your life.”

“I’m happy to do that,” Morgan said, and he meant it.

His sincerity only made it worse. Reid grimaced, pain twisting through his chest.

“I don’t want that for you!” he cried. “I’ll always wonder—what kind of life would you have
if you weren’t wasting it catching the damn butterflies!”

“Reid! Facing this with you is not wasting my time!”

Morgan’s voice grew louder with frustration, as tears began to fall.

“It’s hard for me!” Reid’s voice cracked.

“Morgan, it‘s hard for me!” He repeated. “You have to let me go!”

And for the first time, Morgan hesitated.

Looking at Reid’s tear-streaked face, so broken, so desperate—doubt crept in.

Am I making this harder for him?

Would it hurt less if I walked away?

Am I being selfish for holding on?

Out of words, out of arguments, they sat there—both crying—just like they had many nights
before.
 Breaking up

“I just don’t understand why hallucinations are occurring with migraines. Could it be FHM,
perhaps? Or AIP?”

“Dr. Reid, I know you’re anxious. Especially with your demanding work, but a proper
diagnosis takes time. We need to wait a few more months for the genetic test results,” the
geneticist said gently, sensing the desperation in his voice.

“I... I understand. I, uh... I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend.”

“It’s no problem,” she said sincerely. She could imagine how terrifying it must be for
someone as brilliant as Dr. Reid to just wait helplessly for answers about a potential brain-
related illness.

“Thank you.”

Reid ended the call and noticed a missed one.

Morgan.

He exhaled shakily, feeling himself nearing a breaking point.

Recently, fragments of suppressed memories had begun resurfacing.

That evening, Morgan brought dinner to Reid’s apartment after work—Mexican takeout.

The flashbacks struck without warning.

***

Spencer stepped inside the house and set down his backpack.

“Mom, sorry I’m late. I picked up dinner on the way home,” he said, offering her a smile as
he lifted the bag of Mexican takeout.

Diana emerged from the living room. The moment she saw him, she froze.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

Her expression twisted—fear and rage flickering in her eyes.

“Where is my Spencer?” Her voice trembled.

His smile faded. “Mom, what are you talking about? I am Spencer.”

Diana shook her head, her fists clenching tight.

“You can’t deceive me,” she whispered, her voice low and cold. “You don’t have a face. Just
like all the others.”

“Mom, please...”

Her face contorted with panic. “What did you do to my baby?!”

She lunged at him. The bag slipped from his hand, and dinner scattered across the floor.

***

“Reid? You alright?”

Suddenly Reid couldn’t look at Morgan, terrified he might see him without a face.

“Morgan, I... I have a lot to think about.” Reid's face was pale.

A dull ache settled in Morgan's chest. “What do you need to think about?” His voice
softened, trying to meet Reid where he was. “Let’s think about it together.”

Reid shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Morgan. Please. You’re making it harder for
me.”

The air grew heavy between them. Morgan wanted to reach for him, but Reid wouldn't meet
his gaze.

And then—

Another meltdown.

Another argument, followed by the familiar silence.

Morgan exhaled slowly, fighting the ache rising in his chest. This wasn’t how it was
supposed to be. Reid didn’t look at Morgan. He just stared down, looking defeated.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, counting the seconds of their unraveling.

When Morgan finally spoke, his voice was quieter, weighted with something fragile.

“Reid...” He hesitated, “Would it be easier for you if we broke up?”

The words hung there, raw and irreversible.

Reid nodded. “Yeah... yes. That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Silence stretched again, thick and suffocating. Morgan studied Reid’s form—he had lost
weight, his shoulders curled inward, and exhaustion clung to every part of him.

“Okay,” Morgan said quietly.

“Let’s break up.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Morgan’s heart shattered. They hit him hard, like a
punch to the chest, making him grimace in agony.

Reid looked up and gave a small, silent nod. In his eyes, Morgan saw both sorrow and relief.

Morgan closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. Across from him, Reid cried softly, his body
trembling.

“Morgan... I’m so sorry,” Reid whispered, his jaw quivering.

“It’s alright,” Morgan said, brushing his thumb softly across Reid’s cheek, forcing a smile.
“It’s alright,” he repeated, though his voice wavered.

He reached for Reid’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, holding tight. Neither of them spoke.
They just sat there, silent, enveloped in a bond too strong for words.

Finally, Morgan broke the silence. “I’m going home, okay?”

“Yeah,” Reid murmured.

Morgan stood and picked up his bag.

“See you on Monday,” he said, offering a weak smile, his eyes red and puffy.

“Yeah.” Reid followed him to the door.

Morgan reached for the handle when Reid’s voice stopped him.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything.” Reid’s voice broke as sobs overtook him.

“Don’t say things like that,” Morgan grimaced, the pain cutting too deep.

“Sorry,” Reid choked out between shaky breaths.

Morgan opened the door, but just as he did, they both called out at the same time.

“Morgan.”“Reid.”

Morgan spun around, and without a word, they were in each other’s arms, sobbing together in
the rawest moment of their lives.

“Reid, I love you. I’ll always love you. I’m always on your side, and I’ll protect you. You’ll
never lose me.”

“I know. I love you too. I love you forever.”

They pulled back just enough to meet each other’s eyes. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then
Morgan squeezed Reid one last time before opening the door and walking away.

***

Monday morning, Reid arrived at the office and, as usual, glanced up at Morgan’s office. And
just as always, Morgan sensed Reid’s presence and looked out through the glass to meet his
eyes.

Reid lifted his hand in a quiet greeting, offering the same small smile he always did. Morgan
returned the gesture, raising his hand and smiling back.

To Morgan’s relief, the weekend was spent out of state working on a new case—a perfect
distraction from missing Reid too much.

On July 28th, Morgan stopped by Reid’s apartment to check in on the EEG test results.

“Everything came back normal,” Reid said. “No signs of unusual brain activity. No seizures
or other neurological issues.”

“So, you’re moving on to genetic testing?”

“Yes. They already took my blood sample.”

Morgan asked question after question, trying to grasp every detail of Reid’s condition.

“What are these spikes in the graph? Should I be worried?”

“What do they mean by ‘event-related potential’? Is that something they were looking for?”
“What is hypersynchronous firing?”

Reid rolled his eyes. “Geez, Morgan, I thought we broke up,” he teased.

“I’m still your brother, pretty boy. Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.” Morgan
grinned. “When will the genetic test results come in?”

When Morgan left Reid’s place, the night air was warm and heavy with humidity—the
familiar thickness of a D.C. summer.

It was almost August.

 Sanctuary Pact
Chapter Notes

This story is set before the beginning of Season 8. It's August, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan
is 39.

“Just us three?”
Emily frowned as she sat at the round table.

“Yes.”
Garcia stood in front of the big screen, remote in hand, glancing between JJ and Emily.

She looked dead serious. “You can’t move to London until you solve this case.”

Emily blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Should we wait for the others?” JJ asked.

Rossi was away today. Reid had a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Hotch and Morgan
were tied up in a staffing discussion with Strauss.

“No.” Garcia cleared her throat and clicked the remote.

Two faces filled the screen—one Morgan, one Reid—formatted like a case file.

Emily let out a startled laugh. JJ, on the other hand, just frowned.

“Spencer Reid, age 30, Caucasian. Derek Morgan, age 39. Maternal ethnicity: Caucasian.
Paternal ethnicity: African American.”

Garcia maintained a grave tone. “They met here at the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit,
Quantico, Virginia, eight years ago. They started dating after the anthrax case in May 2009
and were together for three years and two months.”

She sighed dramatically before adding, “COB: Unknown.”

JJ squinted at Garcia. “What’s COB?”

“Cause of Breakup,” Garcia clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Emily nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

JJ crossed her arms. “How do you know they broke up?”

“They don’t flirt anymore. No hugging, no kissing, no Morgan touching Reid’s hair.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too.” Emily leaned back. “Do you think they’re fighting?”

Garcia shook her head. “No. I saw Derek put his hand on Reid’s shoulder the other day, and
they smile at each other.”

Emily exhaled, glancing at the table. “Guys, I can’t tell you everything, but I might know
why they broke up.”

Garcia’s voice trembled as she faced Emily. “Does Reid have symptoms of schizophrenia?”
Tears welled up in her eyes.

Emily’s head snapped up. “Who told you that?”

“Reid once said that if he ever showed symptoms, he’d break up with Derek immediately.”

JJ’s frown deepened. “What are you two talking about?”

“I’ll fill you in later, JJ,” Emily offered.

“Girls, we need to do something about this!” Garcia’s voice wavered with desperation before
she composed herself.

She wiped her tears and handed each of them a piece of paper.

“But first, we need a proper name for this secret mission of bringing them back together.
Choose one by our next meeting.”

“A proper name?” Emily arched a skeptical brow and glanced down at the paper.

♡ Moreid (classic and simple)

♡ Sporgan (sounds like a quirky sci-fi hero)
♡ Dencer (a little dance-y, a little chaotic)
♡ Morgid (like a mysterious potion)
♡ Reigan (fancy, with a touch of flair)
♡ Sporganza (because they’re a whole event)
♡ Derencer (dramatic and powerful)
♡ Mordeid (sounds like a magical incantation)
♡ Reidgan (smooth and easy-going)
♡ Spenrek (chaotic energy, fits the vibe)

Emily lifted her gaze. “Are you actually worried about them, or are you just having fun?”

Garcia opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, the door swung open.
Hotch and Morgan walked in.

In a blink, Garcia clicked the remote, switching the screen to actual case photos.

JJ quickly slid the paper under a stack of files.

“When’s the next meeting?” she whispered.

“Tuesday morning. Over breakfast. Café.” Garcia whispered back.

***

Emily knocked on Morgan’s door Saturday evening.

The door opened, and she didn’t bother with a greeting. “Sorry to disappoint you. You
thought it was Spencer, didn’t you?”

Morgan grinned softly. “Nah. I always know when it’s him. By the sound of his car.”

Emily nodded, offering a small smile. His eyes were red, and the faint scent of alcohol
lingered in the air.

“How have you been holding up?” she asked as she stepped inside. Clooney sniffed her
curiously.

“Not good.”

Emily’s gaze flickered to the coffee table. “Sambuca Ramazzotti?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Let me guess. Rossi?”

Morgan huffed a quiet laugh. “Yep. Birthday gift.”

“So, you’ve turned down our bar night twice in a row just to drink this alone?” Emily sat on
the couch, giving him a pointed look. “I’m leaving next month, Derek. It hurts.” She clutched
her chest in mock offense.

Morgan exhaled, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Sorry.”

“You offering?”

“Yeah.”

He stood and walked to the kitchen, returning with a small glass.

Emily took it as he sat beside her, pouring her a measure.

“So, you’re really not together anymore?”

Morgan didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the bottle as he set it down.

“No. We’re not.”

Emily shook her head. “Didn’t think you’d ever let him go.”

Morgan let out a shaky breath. “Trust me, I didn’t either. But he…” His voice hitched. “…he
was struggling. A lot. Being with me.”

Emily studied him. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ve been reading a lot about schizophrenia. And other brain conditions that cause
hallucinations.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll wait for his test results, and see what I can
do for him. As a brother… I guess.”

“Derek, I asked if you are okay.”

Morgan’s grip tightened around the glass. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the dark
liquid.

“I miss him like hell, you know?” His voice wavered, fragile and low. “Sometimes, I can’t
even breathe.”

Emily reached for him. “Derek—”

“This house is just…” Morgan exhaled, dragging both hands down his face. “Full of Reid.”

His shoulders trembled as he buried his face in his hands.

“I miss him.”

Emily’s chest ached. “I’m so sorry.” She slid closer, placing a warm hand on his back, tracing
slow circles in comfort.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. He smelled like sweet anise from the
Sambuca—like grief and love tangled together.

***

Reid cautiously opened the door. The moment he saw Garcia, he let out a small sigh of relief.

He pulled her inside, glanced left and right down the hallway to make sure no one was
watching, then shut the door.

“What, are you being stalked by Derek Morgan?”

“Not yet. But he’s got potential.”

Garcia let out a laugh.

“So, what’s going on with you and Derek?”

“We… broke up.”

Her smile faded as she studied his face. Before she could ask, Reid answered.
“Headaches and hallucinations. No official diagnosis yet. I’m waiting for my genetic test
results.”

“Why break up now? You don’t even know for sure what’s going on.”

“Our relationship had just… become too intense. Every moment felt like I was hurting both
him and myself. I couldn’t go on like that for another day.”

Reid headed to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil.

“Spencer, imagine this,” Garcia said, crossing her arms. “One day, Derek gets a girlfriend,
introduces her to you, and then—bam!—they’re married. Right in front of you. You’ll
probably even be their best man. How would you feel? Would you be okay?”

“Of course. I’d be happy for him.”

Garcia narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure, boy wonder? The wedding vows? The ring
exchange? The kiss? The dance? Can you handle that?”

Reid considered it, replaying the scenes in his mind. Then he smiled.

“I’d still be happy for him.” He handed Garcia a cup of tea and sat next to her.

She stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re a better person than me. I would absolutely ruin the wedding.” She took a sip.
“You’re seriously not going to be jealous?”

“No.”

“How can you not be? Are you a saint?” Garcia sighed, taking another sip.

“No. I just know I have a special place in his heart. Just like he has in mine.”

Garcia blinked. “Oh.” Then her expression shifted—like something had just clicked.

“Ohhhh.” Her eyes widened.

“What?” Reid frowned.

“So you’ll be fine because you know Derek will always love you.”

“Yeah.”

“Ohhhhhhhh!”

“Can you please stop that?”

“You’re no saint! No self-sacrificing martyr. You’re overconfident, arrogant, smug, cocky—a

walking ego!”
Reid blinked at her, impressed. “That might be the longest insult I’ve ever received.”

“Of course it's easier for you! Because you know Derek will love you forever!” She smacked
his arm.

“He knows I’ll love him forever too.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that. The man lost his mind with jealousy over your high school
crush.”

“I almost forgot about that.” Reid chuckled softly.

Silence settled between them.

“You and Derek are supposed to be together, Spencer. Don’t you get it?”

“I almost believed that once. But not anymore. Derek’s going to have a great life—a wife,
kids, a career. And I want to see that. I want to support him. That’s how it’s supposed to be. It
all makes sense.”

His expression was clear, almost refreshed.

Garcia exhaled quietly. She didn’t know how to tell him that none of it made sense to her.

As she got up to leave, she turned back.

“I could stay over if you want.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m fine.”

Garcia gave him a long look. Then her face shifted to teasing. “You know, no one ever tells
you how good nerds are in bed.”

Reid frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Think, Spencer. We’re both free now. We’re like… the best nerds in the world. We could
have amazing sex.”

Reid smirked. “You said I was someone you couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to.”

“Yeah… That’s the thing. Damn it.” She shook her head, looking truly disappointed.

Reid’s smirk widened.

She sighed dramatically and pulled him into a hug. “Whenever you need company, call me,
okay?”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

***
The next weekend came quickly.

Morgan went for a jog early in the morning, before the temperature rose.

The day passed uneventfully. He caught up on case reports, cleaned the house, then swam at
the FBI fitness facility in the afternoon. All the while, he braced himself for the night without
Reid.

Last Saturday, he was a mess. He couldn’t get through it without drinking heavily. Then
Emily showed up, offering a distraction.

Tonight, he allowed himself just a bottle of beer and a basketball game on TV.

He could almost hear Reid’s voice.

“See how they’re controlling the tempo? They’re slowing things down to break down the
defense. The point guard is reading the floor well, manipulating the spacing, and finding the
right passing lanes to keep the offense flowing.”

Reid would lean against him lazily, warm and familiar. Morgan could almost feel it. He could
almost reach out, run his fingers through that soft brown hair. Then—

They would kiss. Softly. Morgan would pour his love into it. And after they pulled apart,
Reid would smile at him. That same shy smile, even after three years.

Morgan wasn’t watching the game anymore.

“Reid.”

He called the name softly. Clooney lifted his head.

“Reid.”

He called again.

Are we over?

Morgan didn’t understand. He thought he did. But he didn’t.

“Reid.”

His heart started to race. His breath hitched. And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

He picked up his phone, fingers unsteady. His heart pounded as it rang.

“Morgan?”

Morgan inhaled sharply at the sound of Reid’s voice.

“Hey.” His voice came out shaky.

“You okay?”

“No.” Morgan closed his eyes. “I miss you.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I miss you too.” Reid said softly.

“Can I come over?”

“Now? Mongan, it’s pretty late.”

“Reid I wanna see you.”

Silence.

“Morgan... I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Reid’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Morgan closed his eyes again. More silence.

“...Right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Reid’s voice wavered slightly. “Good night, Morgan.”

“Good night.”

The silence after hanging up felt unreal. Like a bad dream.

Morgan stared at his phone blankly, feeling numb. For a long time, he didn’t move.

Then he staggered to his feet.

He glanced inside the bedroom.

Reid was supposed to be there. Reading his book or lying on his side, waiting for Morgan to
join him.

But the bed was empty.

And again, Morgan couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

His hand closed around his keys—still attached to the keychain Reid had given him for his
birthday.

He rushed out the door.

***

The knock on the door startled Reid. He glanced at the clock—past midnight.

Morgan…

Reid braced himself as he slowly opened the door.

The sight of him broke Reid’s heart. Morgan had obviously been crying. He looked drained,
lost, fragile.

“Reid... I’m sorry. I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe.”

Reid didn’t know what to say.

“Can I just stay here? I won’t touch you. I promise.”

Reid nodded and stepped aside.

Morgan lingered near the door, watching Reid.

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Reid asked.

Morgan didn’t answer. His gaze held so much hurt that Reid couldn’t keep meeting it.

“Reid.”

“Yeah.”

“This... breaking up thing, I don’t think I can do it. It’s killing me.” Morgan choked out, his
voice thick with grief.

“Morgan, I think... I think it’s only temporary,” Reid tried to ease his pain. “You’ll be okay.
You’ll move on.”

That shattered what little composure Morgan had left. His whole body recoiled at the words.

“Move on? I don’t want to move on!” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to live a single day
without you!”

Before Reid could respond, Morgan closed the distance and wrapped his arms around him.

“Morgan.” Reid’s breath hitched.

“No.” Morgan only tightened his grip.

“Morgan.” Reid tried again.

“No.” He shook his head.

“You said you weren’t gonna touch me,” Reid protested softly.

“No.”

“Derek.”

“No.”

Reid exhaled. “You remind me of Henry when he was two.”

“I don’t care.”

Morgan held on, desperate.

“I don’t wanna break up. Reid, don’t break up with me.”

Reid tried to gently push him away, but Morgan refused, his arms firm.

“Reid, please.” His voice was raw. “Don’t push me out of your life.”

Reid stopped resisting. He waited, but Morgan’s tension didn’t ease. After a long moment of
silence, Reid finally spoke.

“I can’t go through that again, Morgan.”

Images flashed back through Morgan’s mind—Reid in pain, devastated, exhausted. The
weight of it sank into his chest. Slowly, he loosened his hold.

“Morgan.” Reid pulled back just enough to meet Morgan’s eyes. “I’m not pushing you out of
my life. We have Sanctuary Pact, remember?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Pact? Since when is it a pact?” His expression softened for the
first time all night.

“When we first talked about it, we weren’t even dating.” Reid spoke carefully, gathering his
thoughts.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Even if we aren’t boyfriends, I always want us to be each other’s sanctuary. The place we
come back to for safety and comfort.”

“So it’s a pact?” Morgan asked, his voice steadier now.

“Yes. And it’s binding—for eternity.”

Morgan nodded, the tension in his body finally easing.

“Then…” Morgan murmured, “when I need comfort, you still have to comfort me.”

“Like now?”

“Yeah. Like now.”

Reid gently embraced him, rubbing his back. Morgan exhaled, burying his face in Reid’s
shoulder.

“Reid. I want to live right beside you—as your brother and best friend. I want to support you,
always.”

“I was gonna do that too, Morgan.”

Something settled inside Morgan.

“Can we still see each other on Saturdays? No sleeping over. Just… hanging out. Like best
friends do?”

Reid gave a small nod. “Sounds good.”

Morgan exhaled in relief. Finally, he let Reid go.

“Do you want tea?” Reid asked softly.

“Yeah. I’d love that.” Morgan smiled.

 A Geneticist
Chapter Notes

This story is set before the beginning of Season 8. It's August, 2012. Reid is 30, Morgan
is 39.

Morgan stood in the observation room, arms crossed as he watched the unsub through the
one-way mirror. The man—Ryan Calloway, a 37-year-old security consultant—sat stiffly in
the interrogation room, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the metal table.
His expression was impassive, but Morgan caught the micro-movements—the clenched jaw,
the occasional darting glance toward the camera. He was nervous.

Reid stood beside Morgan, flipping through Calloway’s file.

“He knows how interrogations work,” he said, tone crisp. “Years of consulting with
corporations on internal security breaches. He understands body language, pressure tactics,
deception detection—”

“Which means we need to keep him guessing,” Morgan finished.

Reid nodded, already constructing the psychological framework in his mind.

“You go in hard. Press him with accusations, inconsistencies. Make him think you’re
emotionally invested, like you want this win personally.”

Morgan smirked. “And you?”

Reid closed the file and met Morgan’s gaze. “I’ll be the voice of reason. The intellectual. I’ll
offer him a way out when he starts feeling cornered.”

Morgan nodded. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Reid adjusted his tie slightly. They were focused.

The door clicked shut behind Morgan as he entered the interrogation room. He didn’t sit.
Instead, he leaned forward, hands flat on the table, looming over Calloway.

“Let’s skip the games,” Morgan said, voice edged with controlled aggression.

“We know you were at the construction site the night Jacob Miller disappeared. We have
footage of your car. We even have traces of concrete dust on your shoes that match the mix
used at the site. So how about you stop wasting my damn time?”

Calloway exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That’s circumstantial at best.”

Morgan scoffed, pacing. “You’re a smart guy, right? You think you can outlast us? We’ve
broken guys tougher than you.”

He slammed a palm on the table.

Calloway flinched, just slightly, but Morgan caught it. He leaned in. “I think you’re sloppy. I
think you got cocky. And now you’re sitting here, sweating your ass off, ‘cause you know
you’re out of moves.”

Calloway shook his head, but his fingers had stopped drumming.

Right on cue, Reid stepped in, closing the door with a softer touch. He pulled out a chair and
sat across from Calloway, posture relaxed, voice measured.

“Derek.” His use of Morgan’s first name was deliberate—an effective way to assert his role
as the calming influence. “Take a breath.”

Morgan let out a sharp exhale and turned away, rubbing his temples like he was trying to
keep his temper in check.

Reid leaned in slightly. “Ryan, listen. I know you feel like you have to keep fighting, but
Derek’s right about one thing—you’re in a tough position. And I think you know that if this
goes to trial, the prosecution will tear you apart. You’re smart enough to see that.”

Calloway’s jaw ticked. He was listening now, even if he wouldn’t admit it yet.

“You advise people for a living,” Reid continued, his voice threading with quiet persuasion.
“You help them navigate difficult situations, make strategic choices. If you were consulting
yourself right now, what would you say? What’s the best move?”

A muscle in Calloway’s cheek twitched. He glanced at Morgan, then back at Reid.

There was silence. Then—

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Calloway exhaled, his posture collapsing inward.

“I just—I confronted Miller about what he knew. He got aggressive. I pushed him, and he....”
Calloway swallowed. “It was an accident.”

Reid nodded, his expression unreadable. “Tell us everything.”

An hour later, the team gathered in the meeting room, reviewing the video recording of
Calloway’s confession. They cross-referenced his statements with the evidence they had—
phone records, security footage, and the forensics report. Every detail checked out.

Reid flicked a glance at Morgan, the unspoken understanding passing between them. The
case was solid.

Morgan smirked, extending his fist toward Reid. Without thinking, Reid’s fingers closed
around it, giving it a brief shake.

Morgan tilted his head, fighting back a laugh. “You seriously just shook my fist?”

Reid frowned, realizing his slip-up. “It's a reflex from lack of practice.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Morgan chuckled.

***

Reid walked out of the local police station and headed toward the nearby café to pick up
sandwiches and coffee for himself and Morgan.

The Memphis heat was just like D.C.—hot and humid. He squinted against the glare of the
sun.

“Make sure they don’t drown it in mayo, man. Just a light spread—light, pretty boy,” Morgan
said. “And check the lid on my coffee. If they give you one of those flimsy ones that leaks,
ask for another.”

“Get your lunch yourself,” Reid muttered, rolling his eyes. But he didn’t really mind.

Breaking up with Morgan had been hard, but at least he still got to be near him. They could
travel together, work cases together, eat lunch together—without thinking about the future. It
was enough.

A missed call from his geneticist flashed on his screen. He sighed. No, it was the right
decision.

Two more months until his test results. In the meantime, the geneticist called weekly to track
his symptoms.

“Some conditions require ongoing logs to correlate genetic findings with clinical
presentation,” she’d explained. “It helps us interpret the results more accurately.”

So he monitored everything—headaches, hallucinations, sleep, caffeine intake.

Having Morgan hovering, always watching, always trying to help, always believing in their
future—that would have been unbearable.
***

“I didn’t see the butterfly all week. No wing-fluttering sounds either. But the migraines have
been more frequent.”

“How frequent is ‘more frequent’?”

Reid sighed. “In the past week, five out of seven days.”

“They last an hour or two?”

“Yeah.” Reid sighed again.

“I know it’s tiring, going over this every week.” Dr. Donovan said apologetically.

“No, I actually appreciate it,” Reid admitted. “I can’t really talk about this without getting...
intense worried faces.”

“I see,” she said softly.

“Dr. Donovan, can I ask you something? Why do you think all my hallucinations are neutral
or non-threatening?”

“It might be a reflection of your longing for beauty. Or escape.”

Reid blinked, caught off guard. He let out a quiet scoff.

“What?” she asked.

“No, I...I’m, I’m sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting that from you,” he stammered. “You’re a
scientist. I figured you’d say something about, uh… minimal limbic system involvement or
something.”

“Let me guess—you see hallucinations as nothing more than excess dopamine in the
mesolimbic pathway?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He laughed, then glanced at the time.

“I should let you go. And, uh... sorry you have to call me every Sunday.”

Sunday had become the set day for regular symptom updates, considering both of their
schedules.

“It’s okay. I like talking to you.”

Reid paused, raising an eyebrow. That didn’t sound like something a geneticist would
normally say to a patient.
Then again, he’d never met her. And he wasn’t exactly great at picking up on social cues—
flirtation, for example.

It was probably nothing.

He let it go.

***

Garcia linked arms with Emily as they walked toward the check-in counter at Washington
Dulles International.

“So, our 8 a.m. is your 12 p.m. Lunch break. That means you can still join the Tuesday
morning Moreid meeting, right?”

Emily scoffed, shaking her head. “Garcia, I'm leading the Interpol London office. Do you
really think I have time for Moreid meetings?”

“Look at them.” JJ nodded toward the two men.

Morgan and Reid walked together, Reid rambling on about something, while Morgan wore an
exasperated expression. It was a very familiar sight.

“I think they are fine.” JJ reassured.

Emily turned to face her friends. “That said, I’ll join the meeting. I have to see my favorite
girls every week.”

Garcia’s face lit up.

Soon, it was time for goodbyes.

“Thanks for coming to see me off,” Emily said, hugging each of them—Garcia, JJ, Reid, and
Morgan. Everyone smiled warmly.

“Wait, no one’s crying?” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, we cried enough when you died. No more tears left for you,” Reid teased, grinning.

“You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?” Emily shot him a mock-exasperated look.

As Emily disappeared from their sight, Garcia couldn’t hold it in any longer—tears began to
fall. JJ pulled her into a comforting hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

Morgan noticed Reid fighting back his own emotions and gently placed a hand on his
shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Reid glanced at him. “You?”

“I’ll be alright.”
***

Since when did Sundays become the highlight of my week?

Maeve Donovan set her book down and stretched out on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

I want to hear his voice.

That soft, uncertain voice, rising awkwardly in greeting. The voice that flustered when
teased.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

The first MRI analysis request had come in January 2011, from The George Washington
University Hospital. Given that his mother had schizophrenia and he was experiencing
unexplained headaches, they reached out to Maeve, a geneticist at Mendel University.

The file told her the basics: Spencer Reid. Thirty years old. Caucasian. Six-foot-one. Seventy
kilograms. An FBI behavioral analyst. IQ of 187.

She had been called a genius all her life—prodigy, savant. She knew what that world looked
like. That was why his MRI fascinated her.

His brain revealed an abnormally large hippocampus, linked to memory and cognition.
Pronounced asymmetry suggested an exceptional dominance in abstract thinking and logic.
Neuroplasticity showed an uncanny adaptability—his mind a machine, constantly evolving.

But none of that was what drew her in.

The second MRI arrived two months ago. This time, the patient reported hallucinations, and
Maeve had to call him directly.

Their first conversation had been professional. By the second, she noticed his shyness. By the
third, his nervous laughter made her smile. By the fourth, she was looking forward to their
calls.

He wasn’t what she expected.

For someone so brilliant, he was fidgety, hesitant. He lacked the arrogance that usually came
with genius. Instead, he stammered through explanations, as if unsure of himself despite
knowing more than most.

She found it endearing.

After their fourth call, she Googled him.

The moment his photos appeared, her breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to be so
handsome. Not just attractive in an intellectual way, but striking.

She read his articles, one after another. His work was impeccable. His credentials staggering
—PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, Engineering. BAs in Psychology, Sociology, and
Philosophy.

Her fascination deepened.

Their conversations became routine. Every Sunday, they talked. And as their discussions
stretched beyond medical jargon, she started anticipating them more than she cared to admit.

When she asked about his personal life, he flustered.

“What? I... no. I’m, I’m not in a relationship.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

She wondered if he had ever been in one. His unmistakable social clumsiness, the way he
struggled with casual conversation—it wasn’t hard to imagine him untouched by romance.

Could he be a virgin? The thought sent warmth creeping up her neck.

She had never met him in person, but that didn’t stop her imagination from filling in the gaps.
In her mind, he was hopelessly pure-hearted, endearingly naive.

She pictured him flustering at the slightest touch.

“You and I will never fall for the same guy,” her best friend had once teased.

“You like nerds.”

Maeve had only smiled. “Only if they’re smart, kind, and good-looking.”

She liked quiet, awkward men. Brilliant but humble, unsure of themselves in ways that made
her want to reach out and reassure them. And they always seemed to like her, too.

But Bobby had been different. A classic alpha male—charming, confident, athletic,
dominant. She had mistaken intensity for love, passion for something lasting.

It hadn’t been enough.

Even while engaged, she found herself drawn to gentler souls, men who stirred her protective
instincts. She wanted someone who wasn’t just strong but tender.

Bobby was a good person, but in the end, she called off the engagement. They parted on civil
terms, and he moved on with his life.

But she wasn’t so lucky.

Her troubles began soon after.

The first letter had been unsettling—a single sentence in perfect handwriting: I see you. No
return address. No fingerprints.

She dismissed it as a prank. Then came the second letter, listing the names of her family and
friends.

Then the emails—meticulously detailed threats. Promises of what would happen if she let her
guard down.

Then the phone calls. Heavy breathing. Silence. Hang-ups.

She took a sabbatical from Mendel University and only accepted work involving analysis,
writing, or reviewing data so she could work at home.

She changed routines. Wore disguises. Stopped using credit cards. Switched apartments again
and again. But the messages never stopped.

Now, she didn’t leave. The curtains stayed drawn. The locks were double-checked. The
phone unplugged. Groceries delivered to her door.

She didn’t know who the stalker was or how he was watching.

The isolation drove her to fixate on the one real connection she had left—Spencer.

Her brilliant, awkward, impossibly endearing Spencer.

Maeve sighed.

Would he like me?

“You’re so sly,” her friends used to joke. “You don’t even try, but all the nerdy guys fall for
you. It’s that soft, sweet vibe. The way you talk. Your voice. You practically hypnotize
them.”

“That’s not true,” she had protested.

“See? That voice! That laugh! You’re dangerous.”

Back then, she had laughed it off. But now, she found herself wondering—would Spencer fall
for her, too?

How romantic would it be if they fell in love over the phone?

It was silly, she knew. Childish.

But somehow, she felt Spencer might understand.

Maeve smiled, curling up on the sofa.

Only two more days until Sunday.
 London
Chapter Notes

This story is set before the beginning of Season 8. It's September, 2012. Reid is 30,
Morgan is 39.

Morgan wiped the sweat off his forehead as he jogged up his driveway. His morning run had
been solid—sunny weather, good pace—but nothing could compare to the sheer joy of seeing
Reid’s familiar car parked right there. His stomach did an embarrassing little flip. Reid
actually came.

Without a second thought, Morgan rushed inside, barely remembering to wipe his shoes on
the mat.

“Reid?” he called.

“In the kitchen.”

Morgan found Reid—standing near the counter, sipping coffee like he hadn’t just made
Morgan’s whole morning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Morgan admitted, grinning. “Kinda thought you might bail.”

Reid just gave a shy smile.

They settled at the table, coffee in hand, tossing around ideas for how best friends were
supposed to spend their Saturdays.

“Can we just walk along the Potomac?” Morgan suggested.

Reid gave him a skeptical look. “Without holding hands?”

“Without holding hands.” Morgan assured.

“I don’t know, man.” Reid stretched, clasping his hands behind his head.

“Even if we don’t mean to, our hands might just... do their thing.”

He said it with a straight face.

Morgan blinked, then laughed. “What’s ‘their thing’?”

“They’re practically a couple, Morgan,” Reid whispered conspiratorially. “They intertwine

before we even realize it.”
Morgan huffed out a laugh. “You mean your hand and my hand?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid’s expression was serious. Almost thoughtful.

Morgan chuckled. He thought he knew all of Reid’s quirks by now, but somehow, they still
managed to amuse him.

“How about cooking?”

“Hmm...”

Reid hesitated, sneaking a glance at Morgan’s biceps. Too close in the kitchen. Too tempting.

“Maybe when we're more used to being friends.”

“Right...”

Then it hit Morgan. “I need stuff for my property house. Let’s go to Home Depot.”

Reid arched his brows and laughed. “That is so aggressively not romantic, I’m honestly
impressed.”

Morgan grabbed his keys from the counter, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, let’s get this
over with.”

Each drove their own car to Home Depot.

Morgan’s shopping list was a masterpiece of mundane necessity: a new door hinge, outlet
plates, weatherproof sealant, light bulbs, and a plunger. He tossed it into the cart with a shrug.
“You never know.”

Reid, being Reid, got distracted by things he absolutely did not need but found fascinating.
“Do you think I could pull off owning a chainsaw?” he mused, inspecting one.

Morgan snorted. “In what scenario do you need a chainsaw?”

“I don’t know. Apocalypse?”

“Reid, you can barely handle a butter knife without looking like you’re performing surgery.”

“I resent that,” Reid huffed, putting the chainsaw down.

They meandered through aisles, discussing riveting topics like the durability of different
types of screws and whether the smell of lumber should be bottled as cologne. By the time
they reached checkout, Morgan realized something shocking—Home Depot Saturday was
actually fun.

They capped off their outing with hot dogs from the food stand outside. Standing by the
parking lot, they ate in comfortable silence until Morgan, without thinking, reached over and
wiped a smear of ketchup off the corner of Reid’s mouth with his finger. And then. Licked it.

The second he did it, time stopped.

Reid froze mid-bite. Morgan’s brain short-circuited. A beat of silence. Then two. Then
Morgan’s entire face turned fire-engine red. “I—oh, God. I wasn’t—” He ran a hand down
his face. “Sorry.”

Reid’s lips parted slightly, still red from the ketchup, his own cheeks flushed. He quickly
looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said again. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Reid finally looked up at him, his gaze soft, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay,” he
said quietly, before taking another bite of his hot dog.

Morgan exhaled. Crisis semi-averted.

As they walked back to their cars, Morgan cleared his throat. “So... next Saturday?”

Reid tilted his head slightly. “Maybe a car wash? That’s as unromantic as it gets.”

Morgan pretended to think it over seriously. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s soap. Water. Potential
for a ‘whoops, I splashed you’ moment.”

Reid smirked. “We’ll keep it professional.”

“Yeah. Best friends only.” Morgan grinned.

Reid nodded and held out his fist.

But then, Morgan wrapped his hand around Reid’s fist and gave it a shake.

“I like this new form of handshake you invented.”

Morgan’s grin shifted into something a little more sincere, his thumb brushing over Reid’s
knuckles before letting go. Reid’s heart softened at the warmth of Morgan’s hand.

***

As soon as September rolled around, Hotch called Morgan into his office.

Morgan was temporarily reassigned to work with the Metropolitan Police Service in London,
assisting with an international investigation that required cooperation between the FBI and
British authorities.
He’d be gone for nearly a month. When Garcia found out Morgan would be visiting Emily,
she overreacted and promptly decided to take a week off to join him during the final days of
his stay in the UK.

Morgan and Reid’s Saturday hangouts as ‘just friends’ were put on hold.

***

The crisp September air wrapped around them as Morgan, Emily, and Garcia stood in front of
St. Paul’s Cathedral, its grand dome rising into the London sky.

Garcia practically vibrated with excitement, her eyes wide behind her bright red glasses. In
her hands, her tablet was propped up, streaming live footage straight to Reid back in
Quantico.

“Behold, my dear Doctor Who aficionado!” she declared, spinning dramatically to showcase
the historic location.

“Feast your eyes upon the very steps where the Cybermen made their chilling descent in The
Invasion! And let’s not forget Dark Water—2014, Capaldi era, utter perfection!”

On the other end of the call, Reid’s voice came through, equally excited. “Oh! The 1968
episode was revolutionary in its depiction of Cybermen in urban environments. And Dark
Water—absolutely one of the most haunting reveals in the modern series. You’re standing in
television history, Garcia!”

She gasped and clutched her chest theatrically. “I know, my brainy boy! I feel the power of
sci-fi history radiating through me!”

Emily, arms crossed, exchanged a look with Morgan, who stood beside her with an amused
smirk.

“How did we get roped into this again?” she muttered.

Morgan chuckled, watching Garcia all but dance up the steps as she narrated every moment
for Reid.

Emily glanced at him. “How are you two doing?”

Morgan hesitated. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

She nodded.

“It’s like… we’re trying so hard to be just friends when we both know we’re not.”

“Yeah. We all know that.”

Silence settled between them.

“Emily…”

“Yeah?”

Their eyes met. Morgan’s gaze was steady, certain.

“I’m going to pursue him.”

He said it quietly, but with unwavering resolve.

Emily’s eyes widened, then her face lit up.

Morgan went on. “These last three weeks in London, away from Reid—I had time to really
think. I don’t mean right away. I’ll give him space. Years, if that’s what he needs. Time to
deal with his condition, figure out his future.” He exhaled. “But eventually… he’s mine.”

Then he flashed a soft smile. “Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t,” she promised without hesitation—then her grin turned mischievous. “Atta boy!”

She smacked his back hard enough to make him yelp. “Ow!”

Garcia twirled back around to them, eyes sparkling. “Come on, my reluctant companions!
Feel the history! Feel the geeky joy!” She pointed the tablet toward them. “Reid, tell them
they should be appreciating this!”

Reid laughed through the speaker. “Well, technically, they should. St. Paul’s has been an
important filming location for decades. Beyond Doctor Who, it’s been featured in—”

Morgan held up a hand, grinning. “Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a big deal.”

He glanced at Garcia’s beaming face and Reid’s delighted voice in the background and shook
his head.

“You two are the biggest nerds ever.”

Garcia blew him a kiss. “And you love us for it.”

He chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I do.”

***

Later, Morgan called Reid from his hotel, timing it so midnight in London aligned with the
end of Reid’s workday in D.C.—except Reid was still at the office.

“Still working?”
“I was about to head home.”

Morgan hummed, and a brief silence passed between them—a warm, fluttering awkwardness
they both felt but didn’t name.

“How was the British Museum?” Reid asked, breaking the pause.

“It was great. So much history packed into one place. I’d need a week just to take it all in.”

“I bet.”

Another silence. Then, Morgan’s voice softened.

“There was an engraving of Achilles and Patroclus.”

“‘Achilles Grasping at the Shade of Patroclus’?”

“Yeah. You’ve seen it?”

“In a book.”

Reid could picture it perfectly.

Achilles, relentless in battle, is rendered powerless as he reaches for Patroclus—his dearest

companion, his heart. But what he longs to hold is a fleeting shade, slipping through his grasp
like mist. The anguish in his eyes is not just grief but devotion, an ache no victory can soothe.

The silence between them deepened, as if their inner Achilles and Patroclus were speaking to
each other in unspoken words.

I love you.

I know. I love you too.

Reid could wait forever for their souls to converse in quiet understanding. The silence was
comfortable.

He jumped at the sudden voice from behind.

“You’re still here,” Rossi said, then he noticed the phone at Reid’s ear.

Reid stammered, “Rossi. I was... I just…” He still felt the ghost of Patroclus lingering in him.

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “Morgan?”

Reid swallowed. “Yeah. It’s… um… it’s Morgan.” He cleared his throat.

Rossi offered a knowing smile, gave Reid’s shoulder a firm pat, and walked away.

***
Two days later, a postcard arrived. The engraving of Achilles and Patroclus from the British
Museum.

Reid turned it over, reading the short message scrawled next to the address:

Reid,
Hey. Finally got a full day off. It’s been good catching up with Emily. Garcia won’t stop
talking about Doctor Who. See you when I’m back.
Derek

Reid scoffed softly. Typical. But as his eyes lingered on the card, he caught the faintest hint
of erased pencil marks beneath the ink.

Frowning, he tilted the postcard under his desk lamp, angling the light just right. The erased
grooves became subtly visible. That wasn’t enough. He grabbed his hairdryer from the
bathroom, set it to low, and carefully applied warmth to the paper, letting the heat coax out
the faint remnants of graphite.

And there it was. The words Morgan had written first. The ones he hadn’t sent.

Reid,
My soul longs for you.
I’m forever yours.
Derek

Reid inhaled sharply. His face flushed. He flipped the postcard over and let his fingers trace
Achilles—the warrior desperately reaching for Patroclus, lost in longing.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips gently to the image.
 Amanda’s Letter
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 1. It's September, 2012.
Reid is 30, Morgan is 39.

Reid sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear. A postcard lay beside him.

His gaze kept drifting back to the painting of Achilles and Patroclus on its surface.

“Dr. Reid?”

“What?”

Dr. Donovan laughed. “Are you reading something?”

“Oh—no. I was, uh… just looking at some art. Sorry, what were you saying?”

“It’s alright. I was asking about the headaches.” She chuckled softly. “It reminded me of how
my mother used to scold me for not paying attention. When I read, I tune everything else
out.”

“Do you like reading?” Reid asked.

“Oh, I read all the time.”

“What are you reading now?”

"Crime and Punishment."

“A classic.” Reid raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve read it before, but every time, something new strikes me. Like, I used to think
Raskolnikov’s crime was a test of his superiority, but now I see it as epistemic failure—he
mistakes abstraction for reality.”

“That’s interesting. So you’re saying his theory wasn’t truly tested, only exposed?”

As he spoke, Reid suddenly thought of Amanda—how they’d once spent hours discussing
classic literature.

“Exactly. His so-called rationale was never a foundation, just a fragile construct collapsing
under real-world consequence,” Dr. Donovan said.
Amanda’s voice echoed in his memory.

---“And then there’s Raskolnikov… his struggle with morality is fascinating.”---

“Dr. Reid?”

A few days ago, he’d received an update on Adam Jackson. He had been discharged from
North Texas State Hospital. He was in a supervised outpatient program now. A step toward
independence.

“Spencer,” Dr. Donovan said.

“What?”

It was the first time she’d used his first name, and it pulled him back to the moment.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot today,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about someone. Someone who liked reading.”

Maeve widened her eyes slightly. Her heart quickened.

“Someone… like an ex?”

“Ex? No.” Reid let out an amused laugh. It caught Maeve off guard—he wasn’t flustered like
she’d expected. Instead, he said,

“My ex wasn’t the reading type. More into sports, working out… would rather go to Home
Depot than a library.” He chuckled to himself, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

Maeve’s stomach twisted.

She thought she knew a lot about Spencer Reid. At least a lot more than he knew about her.
This imbalance made her feel in control.

But now, suddenly she felt uncertain. Insecure.

After they hung up, she couldn’t stop thinking about his ex.

She pictured a woman—outgoing, athletic, tan, strong. Someone who jogged at sunrise, who
could fix things in her apartment without a man’s help. Someone sexy, confident,
independent.

And Spencer must have been head over heels for her. Because she was the opposite type.

And she probably adored him—his quirks, his tenderness, his mind. They must have attracted
each other like opposite poles of a magnet.

Maeve bit her lip.

But it was over. It hadn’t worked out. Just like it hadn’t worked with Bobby. Spencer must
have realized that wasn’t what he wanted. Just like she had with Bobby.

Spencer would want someone who can match his intellect. Someone who truly understands
him. Someone like me.

And yet… the way he laughed.

There was affection in his voice. She was sure of it.

She sat still for a long time, staring at the floor.

The curtains were shut. The room was dark.

And loneliness closed in around her.

***

“Call me Maeve.”

She told Reid the following Sunday, earning his usual flustered response.

“Oh—okay. You can… you can call me Spencer, too.”

Maeve chuckled softly, but then her tone shifted, turning serious.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something. Something important. And it’s very personal.”

Reid frowned, blinking rapidly. Was she… hitting on him? His throat went dry. “Oh, uh…
okay. What is it?”

“This is my work phone. I can’t use it for personal matters. I need you to call me on my
private line.”

“Alright. Give me your number.”

“Spencer… you need to call me from a payphone.”

His frown deepened. “What? Wh—why?”

“Just call me from a payphone.”

Before he could respond, she hung up.

***

What Maeve told Reid about the stalker startled him.

“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” He asked the obvious.

“He said if I do, he’ll target my parents.”

“Maeve, come on. There are protective measures.”

“Spencer, he’s dangerous. No matter where I hide, he finds me.”

“That’s what the stalker wants you to believe.” Reid’s voice sharpened. “Give me all the
details. Send any evidence to Quantico. I’ll do something about it.”

The shift in his demeanor intrigued her. He didn’t stammer, didn’t panic. For the first time, he
sounded like a confident, self-assured federal agent—someone she could depend on. And the
gap between his usual gentleness and this commanding presence was… attractive.

“No, I can’t,” she said, voice shaking. “I won’t involve you. I don’t want to put you in
danger.”

“Maeve, it doesn’t put me in danger, okay? I promise.”

But she was adamant, refusing his help no matter how he reasoned with her. Reid sighed,
frustration creeping in.

Then she started to cry.

Reid frowned. There had to be a better reason for refusing help from an FBI agent. Her
reaction was too irrational for someone so intelligent.

Anxiety-induced paranoia.

His heart sank. He could tell by the way she spoke that the stalker was real. But isolation and
fear must have heightened her hyper-vigilance, making her believe even the FBI couldn’t
help her.

He knew too well how paranoia intensified in solitude. He’d watched it happen with his
mother. And now, in Maeve, he saw a glimpse of the same fragility. It made his chest tighten.

“Just… call me from payphones for a while, okay?” she sobbed. “So he can’t track you.”

“Okay. Please don’t cry. I’ll call you from payphones every Sunday. Just keep me updated.”

“Make sure to use different payphones every time.”

He paused. “I... Maeve, I don’t know if I can do that.”

Before he could say more, his work phone rang. He had to go.

After hanging up, Maeve buried her face in her knees and sobbed harder.

She wasn’t sure what terrified her more—the stalker or the thought of losing Spencer. She
hadn’t realized how much she was leaning on him. How much she needed him. And that
made it worse.

Without meaning to, she was creating a test. A loyalty test.

She had framed the request as ‘for his safety’, but deep down, it was for her own reassurance.
And she knew it.

Does Spencer care enough to call me from payphones?

Maybe I pushed him too far. He had sounded exasperated. She covered her face.

A quote surfaced in her mind—one of her favorites, from Thomas Merton.

-Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it
with another.

“Love is our destiny,” she whispered, pressing her face into the cushion. “Spencer will keep
calling me.”

She repeated the words like a spell.

***

JJ tugged at Reid’s shirt.

“They’re back.”

Reid looked up. Sure enough, Morgan and Garcia had returned to the bullpen.

“Hey! Welcome back!” JJ squeezed Garcia.

“You guys look great,” Reid said, hugging Garcia. Morgan gave JJ a warm hug. “Hey,
Blondie.”

Then Morgan extended a fist toward Reid, who wrapped his hand around it and gave it a
shake. Morgan grinned.

The message from the postcard flashed in Reid’s mind, and he felt himself flush.

My soul longs for you. I’m forever yours.

“Did you watch the Olympics at all?” Reid asked Morgan quickly, trying to cover his sudden
nervousness.

“I did see a little track and field.” Morgan nodded.

Garcia shoved a large mug with a Union Jack toward Reid.

“For my favorite bloke.”

“Hey, I love it! Thank you.” Reid beamed.

That week, the team flew to Abilene, Texas, for the Silencer case. It was Morgan’s first time
working with Alex Blake, the new BAU member. He immediately noticed the natural rapport
between Alex and Reid. Apparently, Reid had guest lectured in Alex’s forensic linguistics
class several times.

Garcia and Reid struggled the most with the changes. While Garcia still had bitter feelings
about Alex replacing Emily, Reid seemed to adjust well, which relieved Morgan.

After the case was wrapped up, Reid asked Hotch if he could visit Adam Jackson in Vernon,
Texas, about a two-hour drive from Abilene.

Hotch gave Reid a half day off and let him use a car.

***

Adam Jackson lived in a group home near North Texas State Hospital. After a psychiatric
evaluation, Texas had placed him in a supervised outpatient program, granting him a fair
amount of independence and freedom.

“Dr. Reid.”

“Hi, Adam.”

They greeted each other at the door with a handshake.

“It’s been a while,” Adam said, scratching the back of his head with a nervous smile.

“You look great,” Reid smiled back.

Adam led Reid inside.

The large living room had a cozy, lived-in feel. Two of Adam's housemates were playing a
video game. They looked up at Reid, greeted him, then whispered to Adam, “Your
boyfriend?”

“Shut up.” Adam playfully hit one of them with a fist.

Reid took in the changes in Adam. He looked like a different person.

The last time Reid had seen Adam was in court three and a half years ago. He had been so
thin, his eyes darting around with fear, his shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow. His
demeanor had been jittery, struggling to speak coherently.

Now, the young man standing in front of Reid had a fit, healthy frame. His facial expression
and demeanor were much more composed. The redness in his eyes and the dark circles were
completely gone. He was a healthy-looking, handsome young man.

But as he spoke, the shy, timid aura still lingered. That was probably his true nature. Adam
slid both hands into his pockets, looking slightly embarrassed as he began to speak.
“Dr. Reid... I never really thanked you properly. I heard your name a lot in my therapy—how
you helped my alter disappear.”

“Amanda?” Reid’s heart ached at the word ‘disappear.’

“Yeah. And... you testified for me too.”

Reid nodded, his expression gentle. “You’re welcome.”

Adam shifted awkwardly. “Uh... do you want coffee or something?”

“Sure.”

Reid noticed a ring on Adam’s finger. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you engaged?”

“Yeah, yeah. I am,” Adam said with a nervous laugh, his face reddening. Reid’s chest
tightened. He felt a surge of happiness for Adam.

“Congratulations, Adam.”

They sat at the table with coffee, and Reid asked Adam about his life updates.

When the conversation lulled, Adam spoke hesitantly.

“I know my happiness came at the expense of Amanda,” he said quietly.

Reid’s mind flashed back to Amanda’s voice, clear in his memory.

“I’ll do the right thing.”

She had said it in that Southern accent Reid secretly found charming.

Reid remembered her eyes when he last saw her—her sorrow and longing for love.

“I might not see you again,” Amanda had said.

“I will miss you, Dr. Reid.”

Reid remembered how much he had wanted to tell her she didn’t need to disappear, how
confused he had been. Didn’t Amanda deserve happiness too? But instead, he told her:

“I will miss you too.”

Then they had embraced. He remembered the warmth of her, the sweet floral scent of her
hair.

“When Adam comes back, where will you go?” Reid had asked Amanda.

“I don’t know.” Amanda had replied, breaking Reid’s heart.

“Dr. Reid?” Adam’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I found this in my belongings,” Adam said, handing Reid a white envelope. “I think this is
for you. From Amanda.”

Reid’s eyes widened as he received the letter. It was sealed, with “Dr. Reid” written on the
front. He just stared at it.

“I, uh... I can tell it’s Amanda. Her handwriting is very different from mine,” Adam said.

“Yeah. I know. I remember her handwriting,” Reid murmured.

“Can I open it in private?”

“Sure, sure. It’s yours.”

Before leaving, Reid told Adam. “If you need anything... just call me, okay? Don’t hesitate.”

“Thanks, Dr. Reid.”

Back in the car, Reid exhaled sharply and opened the envelope.

April 30, 2009

Dear Dr. Reid

I don't know if words can ever be enough for everything I want to say, but I need to try.

Before I met you, all I knew about life was pain. Every interaction I had with men was filled
with cruelty, selfishness, and violence. But you showed me something else. You showed me
kindness. Care. Respect. You treated me like a person when no one else ever had.

Because of you, I finally learned what warmth feels like. I never believed in love before. I
thought it was just another word people used to manipulate each other. But you taught me
different. You made me believe I was capable of longing for someone, of loving someone.
And I was in love with you, Dr. Reid. I still am.

It’s terrifying to fade away, to cease to exist. I wish you were here with me now. But this is
the right thing. The only thing. Adam deserves his life back. He deserves to be whole and I
want this for him. Take care of him. Please. I trust you more than anyone.

Don’t be sad for me. You saved Adam, and I want you to know you saved me too. Even if I
won’t be here much longer, because of you, I got to see the good in people before I
disappeared.
I only wish we had more time. Talking about books with you, sharing ideas, laughing... It was
more than fun. It was the only time I ever felt like I belonged somewhere. Like I was real.
And part of me wants to stay. Wants to keep seeing you, hearing your voice, watching you
lose yourself in thought the way you do when you're excited about something. I wish I could
have more of that. More of you.

But I can’t.

You’re going to keep saving lives, Dr. Reid. I know that. It’s who you are. And I admire you
for it. More than I can ever say. So keep going. Keep being the person who changes the world
for people like Adam. For people like me.

Goodbye, Dr. Reid.

Amanda

Tears streamed down Reid’s face, staining the paper. He wiped both his face and the paper,
but more tears followed. He let them fall, unable to stop. For a while, he grieved in the car
before finally starting the engine.

***

That night in Abilene, Morgan led Reid out of his hotel room to grab coffee in the lobby.

“How was Adam?” he asked.

“He’s doing well. Better than I expected, actually.”

Morgan studied him closely. “You okay?”

“Why?” Reid offered a vague smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

It reminded Morgan of the times Reid came back from seeing Amanda. He’d waited at the
airport, watching as Reid walked through the arrival gate, his red-rimmed eyes and tear-
streaked cheeks betraying the weight of his grief.

“You didn’t meet Amanda, did you?” Morgan asked, frowning at the thought.

“No... No, I didn’t. But...”

Reid’s voice trailed off. He furrowed his brows, staring down at the ground, fighting back the
emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

He cleared his throat. “Amanda left me a letter.”

“What did it say?”

Reid hesitated. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the envelope, and handed it to
Morgan.

“Can I read it?”

“Yes.”

Morgan unfolded the letter, scanning the words. His expression shifted as he took in the
depth of emotional intimacy Amanda had shared with Reid.

“Reid... this is a love letter.”

Reid nodded, his gaze distant.

“But I couldn’t save her.” The tears began to fall, slow and steady, tracing down Reid’s
cheeks.

“You did, Reid. You really did. That’s what this letter says.” Morgan’s voice was gentle.

“But she’s gone. I made her disappear.” Reid's voice choked.

“No,” Morgan insisted softly. “It was her choice. She was brave. She chose to do the right
thing. You should be proud of her.”

Reid met his gaze, and after a long pause, he nodded slowly.

“Reid, can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did you love her too?”

Reid blinked, taken off guard. Did I love her?

There was never any physical longing for her, no pining like he had for Morgan. He had
never even seen Amanda outside the filter of Adam’s body.

But...

“I just really wanted her to be happy. I really wanted to save her somehow. And protect her. Is
that... is that love?”

Morgan looked at him with warmth, offering the comfort Reid needed. “That’s certainly one
form of love.” His voice was grounding. “And Amanda knew it. You made her happy, Reid.
She learned to love. That’s huge.”

Reid nodded again, tears falling freely now. “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Come here,” Morgan said softly, pulling Reid in with a steady grip. His arms wrapped
around him, solid and unyielding.
***

Reid knew Amanda and Maeve were nothing alike.

Amanda’s life had been harsh—a constant battle for survival that made her skeptical and
defiant. Maeve, on the other hand, had grown up in a loving home, surrounded by friends and
opportunities. She was warm, modest, untouched by the same kind of cruelty.

And yet, he couldn't help but see Amanda in her. Like Amanda, Maeve had no one else now.
Reid was her only real connection. And in both cases, their interactions were unusual—built
without faces, without appearances.

After reading Amanda’s letter, a strange urgency took hold of him. He couldn’t wait until
Sunday.

He called.

“Maeve.”

“Spencer. What happened? It's not Sunday yet.”

“Yeah, I know. I just... Last time we talked, I wasn’t clear about whether I’d call you.”

A pause. Then, softly, “Yeah.”

“I want to,” he said. “Every Sunday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Reid’s voice softened. “I’ll call you from payphones, okay? And I won’t use the same
one twice.”

“You called me… just to tell me you’d call me?”

Reid let out a small, sheepish laugh. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Maeve exhaled a breathy chuckle.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

Her voice wavered slightly. She closed her eyes as reassurance settled in her chest, a quiet
sigh of relief escaping her lips.
 JJ’s Doubts
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 2-4. It's October 2012. Reid
is 30, Morgan is 39.

“Spence, that doesn’t make any sense.”

JJ shook her head, scoffing bitterly.

“The stalker is skilled enough to put an FBI agent in danger, but calling her from payphones
somehow makes it safe? Give me a break.”

Reid arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t often that JJ showed this level of irritation.

She stared at him, her gaze sharp. “If she’s so terrified of putting you in danger, then why
does she make you call her every week?”

She didn’t wait for his answer.

“If the stalker has access to phone records, they can easily spot a pattern—call times,
durations. Even if you use different payphones, it wouldn’t be hard to find you. All they’d
have to do is plant a tracker on payphones in the area.”

Reid sighed. “I know. A lot of it doesn’t make sense.”

JJ exhaled sharply. “Spence. I think she’s manipulating you.”

“Why would she manipulate me?”

“Because you’re an awkward, good-looking FBI agent, and she’s lonely.”

Reid frowned. “She told me she’s never even seen a photo of me.”

“Oh, please. You actually believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him—at his open, trusting face—and shook her head.

Reid shifted and spoke again,“The stalker is real. I can tell by the way she talks—her speech
is fluid, unforced. She doesn’t over-explain. Her details are consistent, naturally recalled.
She’s not making it up.”
JJ hesitated. It was true—fooling Reid with a fully fabricated story was nearly impossible.
Awkward or not, he was a professional in behavioral analysis.

Reid continued, “I think she’s paranoid. Fear and isolation are making her irrational.”

JJ crossed her arms. “Then why are you just following her instructions? Calling her from
different payphones every Sunday?”

“Like you said, she’s lonely. I want to help. If she stays isolated too long, she could become
depressed—even suicidal. Plus, I can keep an eye on the stalker situation.”

JJ narrowed her eyes. “So you’re helping her by... what? Playing boyfriend?”

Reid blinked. “Playing boyf— No. I’m not playing boyfriend. She checks on my health, I
check on her safety. That’s it. You’re getting the wrong idea.”

“You really think you’re not her love interest? Really?”

“She doesn’t even know what I look like.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “We just went over this, Spence. I swear she Googled you.”

Reid huffed. “Why are you so angry about this?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran into the room, breaking the tension.

“Spencer! My restaurant is open! Do you wanna come?”

Reid smiled instantly. “Of course! I was starving.”

“Do you have money?”

“Money? Oh...” Reid gasped dramatically, patting his pockets as if searching. Henry giggled.

“It’s okay! My restaurant is free!”

Laughing, Henry grabbed Reid’s hand and led him toward his room.

JJ listened as their voices drifted from Henry’s room.

“Henry, are you putting ice cream in my soup?”

“Yeah!”

JJ smiled, but the unease remained.

Reid had been leaving early a lot lately. Now she finally knew why.

He was calling the geneticist.

***
Morgan and JJ, both wearing nitrile gloves, sifted through the missing person’s room.

JJ sighed, picking up a T-shirt from the cluttered bed. Dirty laundry and crumpled papers
covered the sheets, while dust clung to the nightstand’s mess of receipts and loose change.

“Why are men so messy?”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t get down like this. I’m a clean freak.”

JJ scoffed. “Right. Spence told me that before.”

Morgan glanced up, intrigued. “He did? When?”

“A few weeks before my wedding.” JJ didn’t pause her search as she continued. “Our house
was a disaster—spilled juice and cereal on the table, Henry’s clothes on the sofa, toys
everywhere. Spence helped me clean up.”

Morgan, still rummaging through drawers, smiled as he listened.

“That’s when he told me you’re a clean freak. So I told him no one’s house stays spotless
with a three-year-old.”

Morgan grinned. “Fair point.”

“Then you know what Spence said?” She didn’t wait for Morgan’s response.

“‘I’m pretty sure our house would get just as messy when we have a child.’”

A sharp pang hit Morgan’s chest, his breath faltering for a moment.

JJ shook her head fondly. “He said it so happily. So I asked if he wanted to have a child with
you, and he said, ‘Of course.’”

She noticed the flicker of emotion on Morgan’s face—tenderness and sorrow woven together.

“Sorry.”

Morgan shook his head, forcing a small smile. “No, no. It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”

They worked in silence for a while, the room’s stillness stretching between them.

Then Morgan broke it. “I think Reid might be seeing someone.”

JJ’s head snapped up. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch.”

Ever since Reid received that letter from Amanda, he carried the same energy—urgency,
concern, that quiet resolve to protect someone.
They still hung out on Saturdays, but their conversations stayed light. No deep talks, no
lingering questions.

“What will you do if he is?” JJ asked.

Morgan didn’t hesitate. “I’ll support him.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were going to pursue him.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Did Emily tell you that?”

“What? No.” JJ bluffed. Of course, she got the information from the Tuesday Moreid
meeting.

Morgan exhaled. “I will pursue him. But if he’s interested in someone else, I won’t hold him
back.”

“Why would he want to be with someone else instead of you?”

Morgan hesitated before answering. “I think I’m too intense for him right now. He needs a
break.”

JJ laughed. “You do know yourself well.”

***

When JJ found out that Reid had left the crime scene to call the geneticist for her opinion,
frustration flared inside her.

She pulled him aside, her voice sharp. “You shared details of an active investigation with
someone you barely know?!”

“I didn’t specify anything,” Reid shot back. “You can’t deny that her insights actually helped
with today’s case. I know her well enough to trust her.” His tone was defiant.

JJ’s jaw tensed. “Spence, this isn’t a game. This is a federal investigation. I don’t care how
much you trust her—don’t drag your blind love games into our work.”

Reid’s expression hardened. “Jennifer, what’s so wrong about consulting a professional? The
case involved genetic disorders. She’s a geneticist, that’s why I called her.”

JJ let out a bitter laugh. “By getting Blake to drive you five miles just so you could use a
payphone? Do you realize how odd that sounds?”

She shook her head and walked away, leaving Reid standing there.

***

When Morgan sat down across from him on the jet, Reid tensed slightly. After seeing JJ so
furious, he half-expected Morgan to criticize him too for what he’d done during the
investigation. He kept his eyes on his book, avoiding Morgan’s gaze.

“Okay, kid. Out with it.” Morgan’s voice was steady.

“Out with what?” Reid looked up.

“Out with the weirdness and the secrecy. That phone call you could only make from a phone
booth.”

“I got a consultation. What’s the big deal?” Reid kept a neutral face.

“Reid, you left the crime scene and came back with a major break. That’s one hell of a
consult.”

Annoyance flashed across Reid’s face for a split second.

“Hm. It was.” He said dismissively, lowering his gaze back to his book. Morgan leaned
forward.

“All right, you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But listen.”

Reid glanced up again. Morgan’s expression hadn’t changed—intense but warm.

“Seriously, I... I feel like you and I haven’t had a chance to really talk in a while. What
happened between us is nobody’s fault.”

Reid blinked a few times and swallowed hard, feeling a bit uncomfortable hearing Morgan
bring up their breakup.

“But if you’ve got someone new in your life to talk to... I’d just like to know who she is.”

A sharp sting spread through Reid’s chest at Morgan’s words. Someone new? What does that
even mean?

Reid barely moved, lifting the corners of his mouth in a vague, unreadable smile.

Morgan tilted his head, his eyes searching Reid’s face. He mistook his smile for shyness.

Morgan’s expression shifted—seriousness melting into playfulness. “She’s gotta be one hell
of a woman to keep up with you.”

Reid’s smile stayed the same—subtle, forced. He glanced back down at his book.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” Morgan grinned. “Play on, playa.”

Morgan’s teasing hit Reid harder than he expected. A raw ache settled deep in his chest,
making his eyes burn.

Morgan’s grin faded immediately, his eyes widening as he recognized his mistake.
“Reid... I’m sorry. Did I...?”

A tear slipped down Reid’s cheek before he could stop it. Morgan froze, his heart racing in a
panic.

He reached for Reid’s hand, “Reid, I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” Reid whispered, his voice barely audible.

He slowly pulled his hand away and turned his gaze toward the window. Morgan watched
him, feeling helpless, lost in the silence.

“Reid.”

“Morgan, please. Sit somewhere else.” Reid’s whisper was quiet, almost pleading. Morgan
hesitated, his chest tight, but after a long pause, he finally stood and walked away, giving
Reid the space he needed.

***

“Garcia, I need to listen in on a payphone call.”

JJ’s voice was urgent.

“Is it Reid?”

“Yes. I know he’s talking to her right now. I just need to know what’s going on.”

Garcia sighed. “JJ, I’m supposed to get a court order for this,” she muttered, already typing.

“Okay... I’ve located Reid’s cell phone… and yes, he’s in a phone booth.”

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Now I’m accessing the phone company’s switching
station... There.”

She handed JJ a headset. “All yours. I’m not listening—I can’t hide things from Reid.”

JJ nodded and slipped the headset on.

“Are you being safe?”

Reid’s voice. JJ swallowed.

“Yes, I’m being safe. How are your headaches?”

The geneticist’s voice was soft, soothing.

“They’re gone.”
“Yeah? Are you taking your riboflavin and the magnesium?”

“In equal doses, and a sporadic shot of B2, like you said.”

“And sleep? Are you letting your gray matter rest?”

“I’m working on it.”

There was a small pause before Reid hesitantly asked, “Maeve, uh… you really don’t know
what I look like? One Google search and my FBI file photo pops up.”

She laughed softly and teased, “The only intimate part of you I’ve seen is your brain.”

JJ’s eyes widened. Did she just say ‘intimate part of you’? Seriously?

Reid let out a nervous laugh. JJ swore Maeve was doing it on purpose.

Maeve continued, as if oblivious to Reid’s awkward reaction.

“When I studied your MRI, that’s when I said—this is a guy I need to get to know.”

“Uh… thanks?”

Maeve giggled.

“So? How do you look?” she asked.

Reid glanced at his reflection in the payphone’s glass. “Some people say I’m handsome.”

Like Morgan.

Morgan had always looked at Reid with such admiration. His fingers had brushed his face
like he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Reid smiled to himself. Morgan even liked him with his thick glasses, saying they made him
look adorable. And he always seemed charmed by his stubble.

“What’s so funny?”

“What? I didn’t laugh.”

“Something’s amusing you. I can hear it.”

“It’s just… I remembered something.” There was quiet amusement in his voice.

Maeve didn’t respond.

“Maeve?”

“I have to go,” she said abruptly.

“What? Why? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing. I… I’m just not sure it’s safe for us to talk right now.”

Her voice was still gentle, but JJ caught a hint of insecurity.

Reid sighed. “Why can’t you just let me help you? My team and I are really good at what we
do. We can help you.”

“I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for you, because I cannot let him hurt you, because
if he knew, he would...”

Maeve’s voice trembled, then broke into a quiet sob.

Reid sighed again. “Please don’t cry. I get it, okay? This is how it has to be. I understand.”

JJ listened carefully, willing herself to stay objective. Is she refusing Spence’s help because
of paranoia? Or does she just need constant reassurance that he cares?

After twenty minutes, JJ had heard enough. She pulled off the headset.

Garcia peered at her hesitantly. “How was it? I saw a lot of eye-rolling and frowning. That
bad?”

JJ exhaled. “No. It lines up with what Spence told me—she’s a gifted geneticist who consults
on his health, she has a stalker, and she’s stuck in her apartment. He checks on her safety
every week.”

“But?” Garcia prompted.

JJ shook her head. “But she’s obviously fixated on him. And she treats Spence like some
awkward, innocent guy she can tease and control.”

Garcia’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“Not funny, Garcia. If Spence falls for her, I swear I’ll never talk to him again.” JJ huffed,
crossing her arms as if sealing the vow.
 Reid’s 31st Birthday
Chapter Notes

It's October 2012. Reid is 31, Morgan is 39 years old.

“You’re making the birthday cake, right?”

“Yes! Extra sweet for my favorite junior G-man.”

“He’s turning thirty-one, baby girl. Not exactly ‘junior’ anymore.”

“Oh, he always will be.”

It was a peaceful autumn Saturday afternoon.

Garcia and Morgan strolled through the grocery store aisles, gathering ingredients for the
evening’s celebration.

Morgan scanned the shelves for spices. He was making Indian butter chicken—one of Reid’s
favorites back when he’d gone through his Indian cuisine phase last year. Morgan had cooked
it a few times, and Reid had always gone back for seconds. Tonight, he was also grilling
skewers.

Garcia tapped her chin, eyeing a selection of fancy cheeses. “Is anyone bringing an appetizer
platter?”

“Rossi is. With good wine.”

“Ooooh, now that’s a party.” She grinned, nudging the cart forward. “Now, help me find
those sprinkles.”

***

By the time Reid arrived in the late afternoon, the kitchen was alive with the sounds of
sizzling, chopping, and the occasional clatter of utensils. Morgan manned the grill, while
Garcia busied herself with the cake.

“Hey! Birthday boy!” Garcia beamed as Reid stepped inside.

“Thanks for coming early to help, Garcia,” Reid said, his voice warm as he glanced around
the kitchen.
“Oh, I was under strict orders to get here before you.” Garcia smirked. “He said without me
here, you two would end up in bed within five minutes.”

“What— I never said that!” Morgan spun around, eyes wide, only to flush when he realized
he’d reacted too strongly.

Reid’s face turned red, too. His gaze flickered to Morgan before he quickly looked away.

Garcia chuckled, clearly enjoying their embarrassment. “Relax, boys. I promise I won’t leave
you alone for more than five minutes.”

Morgan cleared his throat. “Reid, help with the salad. You’re good with that.” He handed
Reid a knife, eager to divert the conversation.

Reid nodded, smiling slightly as he moved to the counter, picking up a few ingredients. As he
reached for the salt and pepper shakers, Morgan’s eyes flicked over to him.

Reid’s movements were familiar—almost habitual. He placed the salt and pepper shakers
side by side, always keeping them close. Reid had once explained that they symbolized him
and Morgan—two things that couldn’t be separated. Reid had smiled then, and Morgan’s
chest had tightened, knowing just how much that simple gesture meant.

Morgan’s gaze softened as he watched Reid work, realizing how much he’d missed standing
in the kitchen with Reid.

***

Soon, JJ, Rossi, and Alex arrived, each bringing something delicious to add to the table.
Hotch was out on a date with Beth, who would be moving to New York soon.

The kitchen grew livelier as everyone pitched in, setting the table, pouring wine, sneaking
bites of food before it was served. Then they all sat down together, clinking glasses in a toast.
Laughter and chatter filled the room, the air warm with friendship.

At one end of the table, JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances as Reid and Alex launched
into an animated debate—one no one else could follow.

“Still clinging to Chomsky? In this economy?” Reid teased, eyes alight.

“Don’t start. Feature-checking still holds,” Alex countered, raising a finger.

“Barely. Frame semantics already buried it,” Reid shot back. “Let me ask you this—if cyclic
movement collapses, how do you account for island constraints?”

Alex scoffed. “Oh, please. Without phase theory, cyclic movement collapses.”

Morgan chuckled. Reid and Alex had to be from the same planet.

Reid’s cheeks were red from the wine. As he took his first bite of the butter chicken, he
glanced at Morgan and smiled. Morgan smiled back.
After the cake, everyone spent their time as they pleased. Rossi and Alex stayed at the table,
chatting over a glass of wine. JJ and Reid relaxed on the sofa, while Morgan and Garcia
started cleaning up in the kitchen.

At some point, JJ caught Morgan’s attention with a small tilt of her head. He followed her
gaze to the sofa.

Reid was dozing off, elbow propped on the armrest, head dipping forward every few
moments before he startled awake.

Morgan smiled. Wine always made him sleepy. He crossed the room and crouched, his voice
low.

“Reid, why don’t you rest in the bed?”

“Mm...” Reid barely stirred.

“Reid.” Morgan called again, a little firmer.

Half-asleep, Reid moved on instinct, wrapping his arms around Morgan. And just like that,
Morgan’s body responded. Without a second thought, his hands found their place—one
slipping under Reid’s legs, the other steady at his back. It was seamless, familiar. As he lifted
Reid, Reid wrapped his legs around Morgan’s waist, fitting into him like they’d done this a
hundred times before. Because they had.

Reid’s head nestled into Morgan’s shoulder, completely trusting.

Morgan didn’t have to turn around to know the others were watching. He could feel it—the
weight of JJ and Rossi’s smirks, Garcia’s barely contained delight, Alex’s jaw hanging open.
Heat crept up Morgan’s neck.

He carried Reid to the bedroom and gently laid him down. As he pulled back, he almost—
almost—brushed a kiss against Reid’s cheek. Old habits.

Instead, he exhaled and slipped away, closing the door softly behind him.

When he returned to the living room, all eyes were on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Rossi said with a shrug, though the amusement in his voice told a different story.

***

Reid inhaled.

This scent. The scent of happiness.

The scent of him. A faint trace of his cologne, his skin, mingled with the fresh smell of linen.
He sighed into the pillow.

The world felt soft. Hazy. Like floating just beneath the surface of sleep, where warmth
cradled him. That deep, grounding warmth that had once meant safety. His fingers curled
loosely against the sheet.

This bed.

Their bed.

So many nights spent here, tangled in whispers of love, lost in passion. So many mornings
filled with lazy smiles and sleepy kisses. It felt the same, even now.

Morgan...

Reid let himself sink into it—the almost euphoric sensation. The scent of him. The touch of
the sheet. The air itself, thick with his presence.

Morgan.

He could almost feel his skin.

***

JJ and Garcia were the last to leave.

“What are you gonna do about Spence?” JJ asked.

Before Morgan could respond, Garcia turned to him. “You know what you need to do,” she
said firmly. “Be a man. This is your chance to get back with Spencer.”

Morgan sighed. “How many drunk people do I have to deal with tonight?”

“Just take your shirt off and he won’t be able to resist you,” Garcia urged.

JJ grabbed Garcia by the arm, leading her toward the door. “Let’s go, Garcia.”

“Thank you, JJ.” Morgan chuckled.

The house was finally quiet. The remnants of the birthday party scattered across the living
room—half-empty glasses, a forgotten party hat, the faintest scent of vanilla cake lingering in
the air. Morgan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. It had been a good night.

He slowly opened the bedroom door. He could hear the steady rhythm of Reid’s breathing.

Stepping closer, Morgan let his gaze settle on him, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting
gentle shadows over his face. Affection swelled in his chest, aching in a way he couldn’t
ignore.
Reid’s shirt was buttoned all the way up. Morgan reached out, carefully undoing the top two
buttons to let him breathe easier. Reid stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Then he quietly made his way to the door.

***

Reid drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, the lingering haze of wine pulling
him under in slow, lulling waves.

Then—a shift in the air. The soft brush of fingers at his throat.

His sluggish mind barely registered it, but his body did. The warmth of fingertips skimming
over his skin, undoing the top buttons of his shirt with careful precision. Just enough to let
him breathe easier. Just enough to remind him of nights when those same hands had stripped
him bare.

Morgan’s touch disappeared in an instant, but Reid held onto it in his dream.

Morgan. Don't go.

His mind took over, filling in the rest—just as he remembered it, so vividly. Morgan’s fingers
moving lower, undoing each button with deliberate ease. Peeling away his undershirt.
Pressing warm lips to his collarbone.

A quiet sigh escaped Reid’s lips, his breath hitching.

More. Kiss me more.

His body ached with desire. Morgan’s mouth skimmed lower, the heat of it sending shivers
through him. His skin burned under his touch, fire spreading with every brush of his hands.

Then, Morgan’s voice—low and trembling—whispered in his ear, an echo of memory and
longing.

Reid, I love you. I love you.

“Hmm...” A quiet sound escaped him. Reid shifted, his body instinctively searching for
relief. His hips pressed into the mattress, the sensation washing over him, pulling him deeper
into the dream.

***

As Morgan was about to leave the room, he noticed the shift in Reid’s breathing—deep but
unsteady, his chest rising just a little too fast.

Morgan frowned. A bad dream? He hesitated, then decided to walk back over to check.

Reid’s lips parted, a quiet sigh slipping out. His brows furrowed, and a slow flush crept over
his cheekbones. His fingers twitched against the sheets.
Morgan wasn’t sure if he should wake him.

“Hmm...” Reid murmured, barely above a whisper. His breathing grew more rapid. His face
flushed even deeper.

Wait.

Morgan’s eyes widened with sudden realization. His gaze flicked lower—and he saw it.

The unmistakable shape pressing against the fabric of Reid’s slacks.

Heat rushed up Morgan’s neck, spreading fast and burning. His breath caught, then stuttered
out unevenly.

He took a quick, instinctive step back, telling himself to leave.

Then—soft, breathless, almost pleading—

“Morgan…”

Morgan froze.

Shit.

He swallowed, heart pounding. He tried to force himself to turn around, to leave the room
before his mind and body betrayed him. Before he started wanting things he couldn’t have
anymore.

But he couldn’t move.

Reid’s breath hitched again. He shifted, rolling almost onto his stomach, hips pressing into
the mattress. His fingers curled tightly around the sheet, his face glowing with heat. Soft
moans escaped his lips.

And he mumbled Morgan’s name again.

Morgan just stood and watched, his heart hammering in his chest.

***

Reid stirred, stretching lazily against soft sheets. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment,
nothing seemed out of place. The familiar weight of the blanket, the gentle morning light
filtering through the curtains—it was home. Warm and peaceful.

His mind was still slow, fuzzy around the edges.

Are we back together?

The thought drifted in before logic could catch up. No. That wasn’t right.

Then last night came rushing back—the party, the wine, falling asleep… Morgan.
The dream. The intimate dream that still clung to him, embarrassingly vivid. For a brief
moment, panic sparked. Was it really just a dream? It had felt so real—Morgan’s touch, his
warmth, the scent of him…

His mind cleared. No. Definitely just a dream. But then—

His stomach flipped when he shifted under the blanket and felt something uncomfortable.
Wet.

Oh. Shit.

He sat up so fast the blanket nearly fell off the bed. His clothes were still the same as
yesterday, except—his top two buttons were undone.

Reid clapped a hand over his face, remembering Morgan’s fingers at his throat, undoing the
buttons, easing away the tightness. And from there, his imagination must have taken over.

Panic flared again. He frantically felt the bed. Not wet. He sighed sharply. Small mercies.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he peeked into the living room. Empty. No sign of Morgan. He
spotted a pillow and a folded blanket on the couch. Morgan must have slept there.

Reid opened the closet and grabbed a fresh set of his clothes before heading to the shower.
He was grateful he hadn’t taken all his stuff home after the breakup.

Minutes later, towel-drying his hair, he was already calculating the quickest escape route. He
needed to leave. Now. Before Morgan came back from whatever errand he was on.

As he tiptoed toward the door, Clooney trotted over, tail wagging. The dog pressed his cold
nose against Reid’s palm, sensing the tension.

“Sorry, buddy, can’t stay. This is a very bad situation,” Reid whispered, giving him a quick
pat before slipping out the door, his dirty clothes clutched under his arm.

***

Reid walked into the office Monday morning, his posture stiff, an air of quiet resolve
radiating from him—almost defiant. He was determined. He would not fluster when he saw
Morgan.

He moved fast, strides long and overly confident.

Today, he didn’t glance up at Morgan’s office for their usual silent greeting. He went straight
to his desk, unwavering, and dropped his bag onto it with a loud thud. JJ gave him a
questioning look, but he didn’t notice.

-Hi, Morgan. Thank you for the party last Saturday. I’m sorry for sleeping over until
morning.

He repeated the phrase in his head for the fifty-ninth time.

He opened a case file, furrowing his brows as if deeply engrossed in work.

-Hi, Morgan. Thank you for the party last Saturday. I’m sorry for sleeping over until
morning.

“Reid.”

Reid jolted at Morgan’s voice behind him. He spun around so fast it nearly gave him
whiplash.

“Mmm... Morgan. I, I... sss-slept last Saturday. Thank you for, I mean, sorry for... for...”

His carefully rehearsed line crumbled into disaster. His mouth snapped shut. Morgan’s eyes
widened.

Cold sweat prickled at Reid’s neck. He braced himself for the teasing, the laughter.

But it never came.

Instead, something worse happened. Far worse.

Morgan’s face turned bright red. He blinked at Reid, visibly flustered. “Reid, uh… Hotch
needs us in the briefing room.”

Reid’s brows lifted. Then he frowned. Morgan had already turned on his heel and was
heading toward the meeting room—quickly.

Oh. No.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Reid wanted to disappear into the floor. Morgan’s reaction said it all.

Morgan knew.
 Pending Test Results
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 5. It's October 2012. Reid is
31, Morgan is 39.

“Let’s go grab lunch.” Morgan walked up to Reid’s desk during lunch break.

“Okay.”

Reid’s response was quiet, obedient, almost resigned.

They sat on the bench, and the silence between them felt unbearably awkward. Reid
sometimes hated that they were both profilers. Now he knew that Morgan knew. And Morgan
knew that Reid knew that he knew. Reid was beyond embarrassed.

Morgan fought to maintain composure.

“Reid, I... I undid the top two buttons,” Morgan started, his voice faltering. He paused to
swallow, unsure of how to continue, but he owed Reid an explanation.

“I should have left the room right away, but I thought you were having a bad dream. So I
checked—and realized it wasn’t a bad dream. That’s… that’s all, really.”

Reid stayed still as he listened, too mortified to move, too embarrassed to even breathe.

“Did I say something?” Reid’s voice came out small and squeaky.

“You said... ‘Morgan’... four times.”

Reid’s face turned crimson, and he quickly covered it with both hands.

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said sincerely. “I should have given you privacy.”

“You think I’m a creep,” Reid muttered, barely able to hold back the sting of tears.

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Reid, no. I don’t. Why would I think that?”

Reid remained with his hands over his face.

Morgan exhaled deeply. “Okay, I’ll come clean.” He swallowed again before continuing. “I
should’ve left the room, or at least turned around. But I... I didn’t because... I wanted to
watch you. I’m sorry.”
Reid glanced up briefly, meeting Morgan’s eyes. Morgan looked just as embarrassed as Reid
felt.

Morgan added, “And I was... thrilled to hear you call my name.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly. Somehow, Morgan’s honesty eased the tension a little. Reid let
out a soft scoff. “You’re such a creep.”

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan said, running a hand over his face with a heavy exhale.

The silence remained uncomfortable—yet somehow tinged with tenderness.

After a long pause, Morgan spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

Morgan hesitated, but continued. “Why did you cry on the jet the other day, when I asked
about your... mystery person?”

“She’s not a mystery person,” Reid replied, his voice more steady now. “And she’s definitely
not ‘someone new’ like you put it.”

“Why did you cry?” Morgan asked again.

“I don’t know. I just felt hurt.”

“It hurts you if I support you moving on?”

Reid paused, searching his own feelings, before finally answering.

“It does. It hurts.”

Morgan nodded quietly.

The cool autumn air surrounded them as Morgan realized how hungry he was. The forgotten
sandwiches in the paper bag seemed to beckon him.

He handed one wrap to Reid and smiled. “Let’s eat lunch.”

“Thanks.” Reid smiled back, his face still a little flushed.

***

During the week, he got a phone call from Emily in London.

“Hey, Reid.”

“Emily. It’s so good to hear your voice.” And he meant it.

“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”

“I heard you had a party at Derek’s.”

“Yeah. It was fun.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” Emily smiled through the phone. Then, teasingly, “Any progress since
last year?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last year you weren’t sure about your life. You said you felt like you weren’t doing
enough.”

She chuckled, remembering his frustrated face when he blurted out:

‘I’m 30 years old, and all I’ve been thinking about lately is whether I should try penetrative
sex with Morgan.’

“It’s actually worse,” Reid sighed. “I’m regressing.”

“Oh no,” Emily said, already half-laughing. “Why?”

“I’ve been having sex dreams.”

Emily burst out laughing. “Oh, Reid…” He never failed to entertain her. She wiped tears
from her eyes.

Reid rushed to explain, like it might help. “I was fine after the breakup. But then, Morgan let
me crash in his bed when I got drunk, and that must’ve triggered it. Ever since, I keep
dreaming about him. Every night. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay to be sexually frustrated,” Emily said, still laughing.

Reid sighed again.

“What do you think I’ll be worried about by the time I turn 32?”

“Whether Morgan will take you to prom?”

“Yeah, probably.” He laughed despite himself.

After a short pause, Emily asked,

“Reid… have you gotten your genetic test results yet?”

“Not yet. My geneticist said there’s a delay.”

“Delay? Why? Is it something unusual? Should I be worried?” Emily’s voice tensed slightly.

“No. She said it’s just a backlog at the lab.”

“Alright. Just—tell me when it comes, okay?”

“I will.”

***

Maeve stared at Reid’s test results for a long time.

She hadn’t told him they’d arrived.

There had been a real delay—so technically, she hadn’t lied. Mendel University’s lab was
chronically understaffed and overwhelmed with demand. She’d asked a colleague to handle
Reid’s DNA extraction, and once she received the raw data from the lab, she took over—
processing it herself, decoding his genetic information.

The results showed nothing. No markers. No warnings. Not even a whisper of any disorder
linked to schizophrenia. It was a clean slate—almost impossibly so.

She’d already discussed the findings with Reid’s psychiatrist in a phone conference.

If there was no genetic disorder or neurological abnormality, then it had to be something

psychological. Maeve had been eager to understand.

“What do you think triggered his hallucinations?” she asked. “Dr. Reid said the onset was
sudden. No stress. No trauma. His life was good.”

“It could’ve been stress in disguise,” the psychiatrist said.

“Stress in disguise?”

“Tremendously positive events can be subconsciously stressful—getting a promotion, getting

engaged, anything that pushes emotional highs. If he was at a peak of happiness, but also
harbored deep fear about developing schizophrenia like his mother… that kind of emotional
conflict could’ve triggered it.”

Spencer was at a peak of happiness?

Maeve wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—believe he had been truly happy
before he knew her.

She stood, pulled on her coat, and carefully opened the door. Today, she was going to her
favorite bookstore to buy Spencer a book.

It was her third outing without a disguise. Lately, the stalker had been silent—no phone calls,
no emails. She hadn’t sensed anyone watching her in weeks. Maybe he’d just lost interest and
disappeared from her life.

But her heart was heavy.

Spencer wouldn’t need to check in on her safety anymore. His hallucinations and headaches
were gone. Once she gave him the results, that would be it. No more Sunday phone calls.

The thought struck her with sadness. Maybe they’d keep in touch. Stay friends. But that
wasn’t enough.

Maeve had begun to worry that Spencer wasn’t falling for her the way she had hoped. At
first, she thought his flustered reactions meant he was interested. But maybe he was just like
that—with everyone.

She knew exactly which book to get him: The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan
Doyle. It wasn’t romantic. But it was symbolic. It was a reminder of the conversations they
shared—how they could match each other’s intellect. How she could keep up with him.
Challenge him. Fulfill him.

We would be perfect for each other. We’d sit in cafés for hours, talking about society, politics,
philosophy. And Spencer would realize that’s what he truly needed in a partner.

She had to meet him in person. But when? Should she confess her feelings before giving him
the results—or after? She didn’t know. There was so much to consider.

After paying for the book, she clutched the book with both hands and hurried home. She
wanted to write a quote inside—one by Thomas Merton. Because their love was fated. And
Spencer needed to know that.

***

“When are you getting the test results?”

Morgan asked, trying not to sound impatient. He didn’t want to push Reid, didn’t want to
annoy him by asking again—but the question had been burning in his chest for days.

He was growing more anxious by the hour.

Every night, Morgan prayed. He asked God to protect Reid, to keep him from the same fate
that had haunted his mother. Reid had been through enough. Loving someone with
schizophrenia. Living in fear of inheriting it. Morgan had watched him carry that weight for
years.

Sometimes, Morgan even bargained with God.

Take me out of the picture, he’d whisper into the dark. If Reid’s happiness means I can’t be
with him, then fine. I’ll walk away. Just let him be okay.

But—
If the test results came back positive—then Morgan would never leave. He’d stay. Fight for
him. Take care of his mother, too. Whatever it took. He was already planning for that
possibility.

Two weeks had passed since the results were supposed to arrive.
It was Halloween, but the air felt heavy. Every year around this time, Reid was full of odd
excitement. He’d show up in some costume, dragging reluctant teammates into themed trivia.
But today...

Reid entered the meeting room in his regular work attire. No costume. No sparkle in his
voice.

“No costume this year?” Morgan raised a brow.

“No,” Reid said simply.

“Aren’t you going trick-or-treating with Henry?”

“JJ said Henry didn’t want to go. He’s scared.”

Rossi added, “He thinks the real monsters might be blending in. Smart kid.”

As the workday wrapped up and the bullpen buzzed with end-of-day chatter, JJ stepped into
the room, holding everyone’s attention.

“Uh, excuse me, everybody,” she said, smiling. “I have an announcement to make.”

The team looked up.

“As some of you know, Henry was a little nervous about going trick-or-treating this year. But
—he’s decided to go after all.”

Reid glanced at Morgan, and they shared a smile.

“Great. What changed his mind?” Rossi asked.

“The BAU did.” JJ said, “I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out
which monsters are real and which ones are not.”

“So he wants to be a profiler,” Morgan said, amused.

“Ah,” she raised a finger to correct him. “He wants to be his favorite profiler.”

She stepped aside, clearing a path.

And then he appeared—guided by Garcia—tiny, determined, and painfully adorable.

Four-year-old Henry was dressed head to toe like Spencer Reid: sneakers, brown pants,
cardigan, tie, messenger bag. Even the strap across his chest was identical.

“Wow!!” Reid beamed, stepping forward. “You look great, Henry!”

He knelt down, eyes glowing with pure joy.

“Here—put this on.” He unclipped his own ID badge and attached it to Henry’s vest.
“Now he’s official,” Morgan said with a smile, his chest tightening at the impossibly sweet
sight of Reid and his tiny double.

“Tell him,” Garcia whispered to Henry.

“E equals mc squared!” Henry said proudly.

Reid’s brows shot up. “Whoa!!” he shouted, grinning wide as he held out his hand for a high
five.

“The monsters don’t stand a chance,” Alex said with a smile.

“Should we go get some candy?” JJ asked Henry.

He nodded eagerly and followed his mother, while Garcia winked at Reid on her way out.

Morgan stepped closer, clapping a hand on Reid’s back. “Watch your back, pretty boy,” he
smiled.

Reid smiled back, warmth blooming in his chest. The looming question of the test results still
hung over him, but just for a moment, it didn’t feel so heavy.
 Fearless
Chapter Notes

It's November 2012. Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

The autumn sun cast golden streaks across East Potomac Park, the crisp air laced with the
scent of fallen leaves. It was the kind of Saturday afternoon that made the world feel softer,
slower.

Morgan lay sprawled on a bench, one arm draped over his chest, the other dangling lazily
over the side. His sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun, but the warmth
against his skin was welcome.

Just beside him, on a separate bench, Reid was lying down too—though in a way that was
unmistakably his. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, elbows tucked in, legs stretched out
straight, as if trying to minimize contact with the bench. His sunglasses looked slightly
oversized.

“We’re running out of things to do on Saturdays, Reid.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“That’s why I’m saying we should start doing sports. If we add sports, our repertoire expands
dramatically. We’ll have things to do for years.”

Reid sighed in response.

“Don’t you do any sports at all?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, man. You surprise me sometimes. Like that time you started commenting on
the basketball game like a pro. I didn’t even know you knew which ball was the basketball.”

Reid scoffed.

“Also when you completely hustled me at pool.”

“That turned into a full prank war.” Reid chuckled at the memory.

Silence settled again. They stayed as they were, stretched out on their benches.
They could hear the distant laughter of kids playing, the rhythmic rustling of leaves stirred by
the breeze, and the occasional cyclist rolling past on the paved path.

Reid had always liked the sunny autumn air.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“Even when you’re married, will you still spend time with me like this?”

After a beat, Morgan said, “Of course.”

“Morgan.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll play with your kid. I can play all day.”

Morgan let out a quiet scoff. He could easily picture Reid playing in the park with a toddler—
maybe tag, maybe blowing bubbles.

In his imagination, the child was a girl. But she wasn’t just Morgan’s. She was Reid’s too.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah.”

“I can play badminton.”

Morgan opened his eyes.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. I’m not good, though.”

“Let’s try,” Morgan said, grinning as he sat up.

They bought a badminton set from a nearby store and came back to the park. Reid really
wasn’t good—but the fact that he could hit the shuttlecock at all was quite impressive.

“Good job, Reid.”

As long as Morgan returned it gently, Reid managed to hit it back, and the rally kept going. It
was more fun than either of them expected.

During a break, while they were sipping water, Reid’s phone rang.

“It’s Aidan.”
They exchanged a worried look. Reid had told Morgan a few months ago that Rebecca’s
cancer had worsened and she’d been hospitalized.

When Reid hung up, he turned to Morgan. “Rebecca passed away.”

Morgan’s heart sank. “Is he okay?”

“He didn’t sound okay.”

“What about the twins?”

“I don’t know. He asked me to come to the funeral. I told him I’d take the earliest flight
tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Morgan said instantly.

***

As almost always, Las Vegas was warmer than D.C. The sunlight was bright—too bright for
a funeral. The scent of freshly turned earth lingered in the air, mingling with the faint
sweetness of nearby flowers.

A breeze stirred the cemetery, rustling the hems of black coats and sweeping dry leaves
around their feet.

Aidan stood at the front. His broad shoulders were rigid, but his hands trembled as he held a
folded piece of paper. His voice was raw when he began to read.

"Rebecca was—" He stopped. His throat tightened. His lips pressed together as he tried
again. But the words wouldn’t come.

His daughters stood on either side of him. Lina whimpered first. Then Sujin followed. They
threw themselves into their father’s arms, burying their faces in his chest.

Aidan let out a sharp, quiet sob—but his arms wrapped around them at once. He held them
like he could shield them from it all. Like love alone might soften the loss.

Reid stood among the mourners, his fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeves. His chest
ached. He told himself to hold it together, but his vision blurred anyway. He swallowed
against the tightness in his throat, but the grief was relentless, pressing against his ribs.

Aidan—so strong, so steady—had never looked more breakable. And still, even in the thick
of his own devastation, his hands moved gently over his daughters’ hair, whispering
something only they could hear.

***

After the funeral, Reid didn’t know how to meet Aidan’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again—the same words he’d already repeated since arriving.
Aidan reached out and gently patted Reid’s head, a soft smile on his tear-reddened face.
“Spencer, don’t keep saying that. I’m the happiest man for having been married to Rebecca
for fourteen years and raising our girls together.”

Reid nodded, trying to return the smile, but more tears slipped down his cheeks. Aidan was
right. Not many people had a love like that.

After speaking with the family, Aidan, Reid, and the twins returned to Aidan’s house.

Aidan took Lina and Sujin upstairs to their room. When he came back to the living room, his
shoulders slumped as he let out a quiet sigh.

“I thought they wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight,” he said, easing onto the couch. “But they
were out in minutes. Must’ve been exhausted.”

“You should get some sleep too,” Reid said.

“I’m alright. Could you stay up with me a little?”

“Of course.” Reid offered a soft smile. Aidan smiled back, then stood and grabbed two cans
of cola from the fridge, handing one to him. Neither of them had ever been drinkers.

“How’s Derek?”

“He’s good. We’re... not together anymore.”

Aidan blinked, surprised. “Why? What happened?”

“From early June through the summer... I had symptoms of schizophrenia. It was hard for me
to stay in a relationship.”

Aidan stared, trying to take it in, but words didn’t come. He just sat there in silence.

Reid hesitated, then asked, “Aidan… were you scared? When Rebecca started getting
worse?”
He lowered his gaze. “I was scared. Watching my mom decline was terrifying. I didn’t want
Morgan to go through that with me.”

Aidan looked at him with warmth and said, steady and certain.

“I wasn’t scared.”

Reid searched his face, trying to understand. Aidan continued.

“Maybe I can say that because I believe in God, but I knew God loved her. That’s why I
could love her without fear.”

Tears welled up again in Reid’s eyes. Was that really possible? To love someone without
fear?
“I don’t even know what that means,” he whispered.

“Then why are you crying?” Aidan asked gently.

“I don’t know.”

“There is no fear in love,” Aidan murmured. “Perfect love drives out fear.”

“First John 4:18.”

“Yeah.” Aidan smiled.

“I couldn’t do that with my mom. I was always afraid.”

“You were a child, Spencer,” Aidan said.

His chest tightened at the memory of young Spencer—how many times he’d rushed to Reid’s
house, whenever things got too rough.

“But Derek…” Aidan said, his voice soft, gaze steady. “I have a feeling he loves you with a
love that knows no fear.”

Reid nodded. He did. Even now. Morgan loved him so fearlessly.

“So you must not be afraid either,” Aidan said.

***

The next day, Reid visited Diana at the Bennington Sanitarium. She had been stable for a
while now, and Reid decided to take her out to Gilcrease Orchard, the place she’d once taken
him as a kid.

They walked through the pumpkin patch, took a wagon ride, navigated the hay maze and corn
maze, and finally settled on a bench with apple cider and donuts.

“So, you’re still calling her every Sunday?” Diana asked, her eyes thoughtful as she glanced
at Reid.

“JJ thinks I should stop. She says I should just tell her to go to the police and stop calling
her.”

“What do you want to do, Spencer?”

“I want to do whatever I can to help her. I check on her safety but it’s not just that. She needs
someone to talk to. She’s stuck in her apartment and I’m all she’s got.”

“Sounds like you care about her a lot.”

“I do.” Reid admitted.

“Do you love her?”

Reid paused, shaking his head. “No. Not like that. I don’t love her.”

“You said she is paranoid.” Diana murmured.

“Mm-hmm.”

Diana sighed, her fingers reaching out to gently touch Reid’s face.

“That’s why you feel so responsible for her. So protective.” Diana met Reid’s eyes. “You still
feel guilty about sending me away.”

Reid’s eyes widened. “No. It’s not... It’s not related.”

The memory hit him like a wave, sharp and painful.

It was a transition year for Reid—finishing his PhDs in Math and Engineering at Caltech and
transferring to MIT. During his Caltech years, he went home to check on Diana almost every
weekend, taking the five-hour Greyhound ride. When he got his minor license at age 16, it
became easier. Four and a half hours from school to his front door. Legally tricky to cross a
state line with a minor license, but he drove anyway.

Diana wasn’t doing well. Being alone most of the week, her paranoia had gotten worse. She
couldn’t eat much, always fearing the food was poisoned. She had lost weight.

And now, Reid was moving to Massachusetts. From MIT, driving was impractical—over
forty hours. Even a direct flight took five and a half hours.

So Reid had to make a decision.

He called the institution, and they arranged for a psychiatric transport team to escort her.

That day, two men in uniform arrived at their house. When Reid and the men stepped into her
room, Diana looked up from her book.

“What are these men doing here?” She frowned.

“They’re from a hospital. They’re here to help.” Reid’s voice was weak, faltering.

“I don’t need help. You can’t be here without permission. Tell them, Spencer.” Diana dropped
her gaze back to her book dismissively.

“I called them,” Reid said quietly.

Diana looked up at him, shock and betrayal flashing in her eyes. The look pierced Reid’s
heart.

“Your son’s 18, ma’am. He can act in your welfare,” one of the men said calmly.

“Mom, you need help.”

Diana broke into sobs. “I want to stay here.”

“I’m sorry,” Reid whispered, barely audible.

The men moved closer, gently helping her out of her chair.

“Please. These are my things. This is my life,” she pleaded, but they guided her to her feet.

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me,” she begged.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Reid choked, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Spencer,” Diana called, pulling him back to the present. He looked up, startled.

“Please stop saying you’re sorry about that day.” Diana’s voice was tinged with annoyance,
but also a softness. “You did what you had to do. It was the right decision. For both of us.”

Reid met her eyes. She looked much healthier now.

“You get caught up in that sometimes—feeling like you have to save someone, especially
when it’s tied to mental health. Like when you kept going to Texas.”

“So me wanting to help Maeve is just about guilt? Regret?”

“And a lot of compassion.” Diana smiled.

***

Coming home from Las Vegas, Reid’s mind was full—overflowing with thoughts of his
mom, of Rebecca and Aidan, of Maeve, and Morgan. Thoughts about love. Love without
fear.

-I wasn’t scared.

Aidan’s words stayed with him. They gave him hope. Courage.

Maybe one day, he could love Morgan with that same conviction. And maybe one day, he
could let Morgan love him, too.

His phone rang. Morgan.

“How were Aidan and the girls?”

“They’re heartbroken. But they’ll get through it. I’m sure of that.”

“Glad to hear it,” Morgan said, feeling something ease in his chest. Reid sounded steady.
Hopeful.
“Thank you for driving me to the airport. I owe you one.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Reid said. And he sounded like he meant it. Morgan smiled.

“Good. Because you’re playing softball for the Bureau’s team.”

“What?”

“First practice tomorrow morning. We’ll practice on Saturdays too.”

“I’m so not playing softball, Morgan.”

“Yes, you are. You owe me one.”

Reid could practically hear Morgan’s grin through the phone. And he was already annoyed by
it.
 Softball Game
Chapter Notes

This story is set during the events of Season 8, Episode 6. It's November 2012. Reid is
31, Morgan is 39.

The early morning light spilled across the horizon, too bright to look at directly. The FBI
training field was empty, quiet.

Reid loaded a ball into the pitching machine. It whirred softly, then launched the ball in a
clean arc toward home plate.

Morgan swung his bat, striking the ball with a sharp crack that echoed high into the sky.

Reid kept his expression neutral, but he was painfully aware of the way Morgan’s muscles
shifted with each movement—confident, effortless, frustratingly attractive. His blush gave
him away.

“Here,” Morgan said, handing him the bat. “Let me see your swing.”

Reid took it and gave a half-hearted attempt.

Morgan sighed, took the bat back, and demonstrated. “Okay. You see my hips? See my hips?
You swing right through, nice and easy.”

Reid kept his face deadpan, willing the heat in his cheeks to fade.

“It’s not just your arms,” Morgan added. “Watch my hips.”

“Stop telling me that.”

“Telling you what?”

“To watch your hips!” Reid’s voice cracked with embarrassment.

Morgan blinked. Then flushed. “Reid! Oh my God. Are you thinking something naughty?”

“I wasn’t! Until you kept telling me to watch your hips!”

Morgan burst out laughing. “You are seriously sexually deprived. That’s why you—” He cut
himself off.

“—have sex dreams?” Reid asked, pouting.

Morgan stifled another laugh. “No. That’s why you need to play sports. It helps you release
all that sexual tension.”

Reid scrunched his nose. Morgan laughed some more.

“All right, come on. You give it a try.”

Reid sighed. “It was just a ride to the airport. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I
said I owed you one.”

Reid mumbled as they walked toward each other to switch spots.

“Hey, you act like this is torture. You know, there are people who think this is fun.”

“Believe it or not, most of my childhood sports memories aren't altogether pleasant.”

Morgan exhaled, “Reid, it's just one game. We need a body. You might not even have to
play.“

“Perfect. Can we go now?” Reid was about to walk away.

“Reid!” Morgan stopped him. “Just humor me. Take the bat and get up there and give it a
try.”

Reid gave a resigned nod. Morgan grinned and gently steered him toward the plate. “Get up
there. You’re gonna like this. I promise.”

Reid sighed and stepped into position.

“See it and hit it. Just relax.”

Reid nodded, holding up the bat.

“Here we go.”

The ball flew. Reid swung hard—and missed.

“Okay, okay. First try,” Morgan said, encouraging. “Keep your eye on the ball.”

Reid tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and muttered as he reset his stance.

“Gravity plus drag coefficient plus Magnus effect…” He turned to Morgan, frustrated. “I see
what you're saying. If I can adjust the velocity of my swing—”

“No,” Morgan cut in, amused. “What I'm saying is get out of your head. Just feel it.”

Reid nodded, mumbling to himself. “Feel it. Feel it…”

“Don’t think. Just feel it.”

“Just feel. Don’t think, just feel.” Reid parroted.

Morgan laughed. “Here it comes.”

Reid swung again with a grunt. Missed again.

Morgan put his hands on his hips. “Reid, that’s not feeling it.”

“I’m feeling like an idiot!”

Morgan laughed harder.

Just then, his phone buzzed. He checked the screen and sighed.

“Well. Today’s your lucky day—we’ve got a case.”

“Yes!” Reid whispered. “Thank God.”

***

The team flew to Miami, Florida.

The night before, a young woman’s body had been found in an alley. A runaway. Prostitute.
Before her, it had been animals—mostly dead dogs—discovered across a narrow radius in a
middle-class suburban neighborhood about a mile from the alley.

Morgan and Reid were assigned to the park where several of the dogs had turned up.

“The last one was found in these bushes,” Morgan said, pointing to a patch of overgrown
green. “The others turned up in a similar park not far from here.”

“Except for the one discovered in the alley. About a mile away,” Reid murmured, thoughtful.

They walked the grounds slowly, eyes scanning for patterns, residue—anything.

The Miami air was warm, brushing past them in lazy breezes. At 80°F, it felt more like a
peaceful summer day than the scene of a serial escalation.

“So...” Morgan’s voice broke the quiet. “Had another one of those dreams since your
birthday?”

His tone was casual, but Reid caught the glint of amusement beneath it.

Reid shot him a look, then turned away without answering. The sunlight caught in his hair,
tinting it faintly auburn.

“Can I touch your hair?”

“No,” Reid said flatly, frowning.

Morgan sighed. “I used to touch your hair before we started dating. So technically, I don’t
need your permission.”
“Morgan, we’re supposed to be discussing the case.”

They walked a few more steps in silence.

“Hey, Reid.” Morgan nodded toward the path ahead. “You remember those days? Down by
the Potomac?”

Reid followed his gaze.

Two boys stood near the riverbank, locked in a kiss, arms wrapped around each other like the
rest of the world didn’t exist.

A flicker of memory stirred—he and Morgan, pressed together by the Potomac River. Reid
swallowed it down and kept his expression flat. “Hmm. Not really.”

Morgan chuckled. “Come on, Reid.”

“They’re teenagers, Morgan.”

Morgan smiled to himself, but his eyes had already shifted, catching something else.

“You’re right, though. Look around.” His voice sobered. “This park’s a hangout spot for
teenagers.”

Reid glanced around. Clusters of kids lounged on benches, under trees, scattered through the
grass. He nodded. “That would explain the impulsivity. Our unsub might still be an
adolescent.”

Morgan was already pulling out his phone. “I’ll tell Garcia to widen the search to include
juvenile violent offenders in the area.”

***

The team regrouped at the Miami Police Department.

“I didn’t even know the Bureau had a softball team,” Alex said, pouring herself a cup of
coffee.

“Since when do you play?” JJ asked Reid.

“Since Morgan drafted me,” Reid replied, clearly exasperated.

“Really? Why?” Rossi asked Morgan, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity.

Alex glanced at Morgan. JJ and Rossi smirked—they already knew the answer. Morgan just
wanted an excuse to spend more time with Reid.

“Don’t let the skinny geek thing fool you,” Morgan said, grinning. “I know the good doctor’s
deceptively athletic.”

“Oh, it’s deceptive, all right,” Rossi said with a knowing smile.
A local officer appeared at the door. “Excuse me, agents. Another woman’s body was just
found.”

The room tensed.

“That was quick,” Rossi muttered with a sigh.

***

Morgan and Reid crouched beside the second victim, carefully studying the scene.

“Bite marks… blow to the head… He didn’t kill her here. Just dumped her in all this trash,”
Morgan said grimly.

Reid nodded. “Probably a forensic countermeasure—an attempt to degrade the crime scene.
It’s a major shift in M.O. Do you think he’s evolving?”

“Nothing about this one says young or impulsive. Might not even be the same guy.”

“It can’t be a copycat. The story literally just made the news.” Reid glanced at Morgan. “Are
we dealing with a team?”

“If there are two of them, they’re feeding off each other. This could turn into a spree real
soon.”

With no witnesses, the case had stalled, and tension was mounting. Then a name emerged—
Jose Aguilar, a teenager who might have seen something important.

A month earlier, Jose had witnessed a boy around his age abusing a dog. When he tried to
intervene, an older man attacked him with a hammer. He’d ended up in the ER. But Jose
refused to file a police report—he didn’t trust cops, and he made that clear.

Now, he sat quietly in the interview room, his expression guarded. His head was shaved, a
tattoo curled up the side of his neck, and silver hoops glinted in both ears.

“Jose, appreciate you coming in, man,” Morgan said gently, sitting casually on the table
beside him.

“Like I had a choice.” Jose didn’t look up. “Why am I here?”

“It’s all good, all right? We just want to ask you a few questions.” Morgan kept his tone
steady.

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know anything. We done?”

“Kid, I get it. The neighborhood I grew up in, we hated Five-0, too,” Morgan said, trying to
connect.
Jose scoffed. “Oh, so you can relate.”

“We’re not those kind of cops, man.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jose shook his head, still closed off.

“I think I can relate,” Reid said suddenly, glancing up from the file.

Both Morgan and Jose looked at him, surprised.

Jose studied Reid with open skepticism. “I doubt that.”

Reid started, “Because when you look at me, you jump to a particular set of conclusions. It’s
human nature to make assumptions based on appearances. It’s an outdated primal instinct
born of our need to quickly assess our surroundings.”

Jose furrowed his brow but didn’t interrupt.

Reid continued, “Of course, in this modern era, those assumptions tend to be very wrong
and... Often quite hurtful. It happens to me a lot, and I bet that happens to you all the time.”

There was a pause. Jose stared at him, then exhaled. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” he said, this time to Reid.

Morgan raised an eyebrow—it was the first sign of trust the kid had shown.

Reid pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

“We believe you. We just want to know what you wouldn’t tell the cops about the man who
attacked you with the hammer.”

“I don’t remember much.”

“Want to try something?” Reid offered. “This may sound strange, but close your eyes and
focus. You might be surprised how much comes back.”

Jose hesitated… then nodded. “All right.” He closed his eyes.

Just like that, the cognitive interview began. Morgan watched, quietly impressed.

Reid’s voice was calm. “You were walking home from school that day. What was the weather
like?”

“Hot… humid.”

After the interview, Reid asked gently, “Did you know the kid who was beating the dog?”

“Some white kid. Never seen him.”

“What about the guy with the hammer?”

“He was white too. But older.”

“Could you describe them to a sketch artist?”

“...I think so.”

Reid glanced at Morgan. Morgan nodded.

***

Morgan’s kick sent the door crashing open, splintering wood as it flew wide.

“Clear right,” Morgan said low and fast, weapon raised.

“Left’s clear,” Reid echoed, just a step behind him, eyes scanning the hallway with a
sharpness honed by too many scenes like this.

Alex followed, steady and silent, covering their six. They moved in a tight formation, the air
tense and electric.

A muffled cry came from deeper in the house.

Without hesitation, they pushed forward. Morgan reached the door first, delivering another
powerful kick.

“FBI!” he shouted.

Inside, chaos. An older man was strangling a younger one. In the corner, a woman was tied to
a chair, duct tape across her mouth.

The older unsub’s eyes widened as he looked up.

Morgan and Reid raised their weapons in near-perfect sync, bodies fluid and controlled.

“Don’t move!” Reid barked.

The older unsub froze. The younger one slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Alex moved fast, already at the victim’s side, working to undo the knots with practiced
precision.

“It’s over, man,” Morgan said, voice steady, “Put the weapon down.”

The unsub’s breathing was ragged. His hand twitched.

“I’ve been to prison,” he muttered, almost to himself.

His hand moved.

Morgan didn’t flinch. One shot. Clean. Controlled.

The unsub dropped.

Reid was already in motion, kicking the weapon out of reach before checking both unsubs’
pulses.

Morgan’s eyes stayed on the body, breath steady, finger easing off the trigger.

Behind them, the woman sobbed in Alex’s arms.

Morgan gave Reid a short nod. “Nice work.”

***

It was a bright, sunny autumn Saturday.

On the FBI training field, players were warming up, tossing the ball back and forth.

Morgan, in his FBI softball team uniform, spotted Reid and jogged toward him. Reid was in a
casual dress shirt and slacks—clearly not expecting to actually play.

“Hey, pretty boy.” Morgan’s smile was wide enough to make Reid’s lips twitch upward.

“Hey.”

“You made it. I like that. Did you bring a glove?”

“Glove? I don’t even own shorts.”

“Okay, don't even worry about it, kid. I’ve got an extra one.” Morgan’s grin was unfaltering.
“Dyson’s wife had her baby last night. So today, you’re playing second base.”

Reid’s smile faded instantly.

“Wait, what?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can’t play second base.” Reid’s voice pitched with panic.

“Oh, yes, you can. You’re gonna. No such thing as can’t, kid.”

“Go, team!”

Reid turned around to see the whole team just arriving. JJ, Hotch, Garcia, Alex and Rossi. JJ
brought Henry too.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, we were not gonna miss this for the world.” JJ smiled.
“Awesome,” Reid muttered, swallowing nervously.

“So, the Secret Service, huh?” Alex asked, glancing toward the opposing team.

“Yeah. We haven’t beaten these chumps in five years,” Morgan said, shrugging.

“They’ve got nothing to do but practice,” Rossi said with mock pity.

“And party,” Garcia added, plopping the team cap on Reid’s head.

“Ah, there he is,” Morgan said, delighted. “Let’s go, baby.”

The crowd was already loud, but when Morgan slammed the ball into the outfield, the cheers
erupted. Whistles cut through the air as he took off, sliding into second like it was nothing.

Then came Reid.

He approached the plate nervously, hands tight around the bat.

“You got this, Spence!”

“Just swing it!”
“Come on, genius!”

Garcia cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling, “Think hot thoughts!”

“Come on, pretty boy!” Morgan shouted from second base, “You can do this!”

The pitch came. Reid swung hard—missed.

“Strike one!” the umpire called.

“Attaboy!” Rossi shouted. “Now light it up!”

Another pitch. Another swing.

“Strike two!” The crowd quieted a little.

From the pitcher’s mound, one of the Secret Service guys called out to his team, “He can’t
hit. Bring it in!”

Reid exhaled, anxiety crawling up his spine.

“Time-out! Time-out!” Morgan called, gesturing frantically as he jogged in. The umpire
shrugged and stepped aside.

Morgan reached Reid and grabbed him by the shoulders. His voice dropped low.

“Listen to me, kid. It is the bottom of the ninth. There’s two outs. And we are losing by one
run. Ok?”
Reid’s mouth parted in protest, already shaking his head. But Morgan pressed on, confident.

“You are the guy, Reid.”

Reid’s panic spiked. “No, I’m not.” He kept shaking his head.

“All you have to do is get it over their heads, and I will score, and then you run like hell.”

“I've been doing the calculations. Force equals...”

“Reid, stop. Stop.“ Morgan cupped his face. “Get out of your head. All the physics in the
world will not work unless you just let it flow.”

Reid blinked at him, caught between panic and a laugh. None of this made sense.

“Right now, you can erase all those unpleasant childhood sports memories. All of it for good.
So stop thinking. Just feel it.”

Caught in the absurdity, Reid huffed out a breathless laugh.

“Just feel it.” Morgan repeated, grinning.

Reid chuckled, “Okay.”

Morgan’s grin widened. “You got this. Okay? Let’s go.” He gave Reid’s cheeks a couple of
quick pats and jogged back to second base.

Reid exhaled and adjusted his grip on the bat, his shoulders looser now. Fire flickered in his
chest.

“Man’s got nothin’,” someone from the other team scoffed.

Something in Reid’s expression changed.

The crowd seemed to slow, the world narrowing to just the pitcher and the bat in his hands.
The pitcher wound up—Reid’s eyes tracked him.

The ball flew.

Reid swung.

CRACK.

The bat connected. The sound echoed across the field. Loud and clean.

He looked up, stunned, watching the ball sail over the outfielders’ heads.

“RUN!” Alex shouted.

“RUN, REID, RUN!” Garcia screamed.

The crowd leapt to their feet. “GO! GO! GO!”

Morgan dashed across home base, arms raised in triumph. Reid’s legs pumped faster than
they had in his life. He rounded second, then third. His teammates were all screaming,
waving him home.

He slid into the base, dirt flying.

“SAFE!” the umpire yelled.

The place exploded.

Morgan whooped, grabbing Reid and spinning him around. “YES! YES! YOU DID IT! You
did it! Whooooo!”

Morgan gave Reid a victorious lift. Reid laughed, breathless.

Teammates rushed in, surrounding him with high-fives and back slaps. Then Reid ran to the
BAU crew, slapping hands over the fence.

Still grinning, he jogged back to Morgan—and jumped on his back like a child.

Victory.

And maybe a little healing too.

 Conviction
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 10. It's December 2012.
Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

“What chapter are you on?” Reid asked eagerly.

“The part where she’s at the coal mines.”

“Say what you will about his writing, Maeve,” Reid pressed, eyes bright. “But it’s fascinating
how he weaves characters into situations, right?”

Maeve smiled at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about it yet. It’s a
little obtuse.”

“He tends to be that way. I probably should’ve warned you.”

Over the months, books became their main topic. Reid liked that—it was familiar ground.
Maeve was into Conan Doyle. Reid had read them all long ago, but he didn’t mind revisiting
them for her.

They went back and forth about the story, trading opinions like usual. Then, after a quiet
moment, Maeve’s tone shifted—just a little playful and secretive.

“Guess what?”

“What?” Reid smiled.

“I think the stalker’s gone. The phone calls and emails stopped.”

Reid’s expression changed immediately, the smile fading. “Really? Since when?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, confused.

“I wanted to be sure,” Maeve replied. “No more heavy breathing on the machine. No more
hang-ups.”

Reid’s frowned. His mind ticked through possibilities.

“Stalkers with erotomanic delusions don’t usually just stop,” he said. “It might mean he’s
shifted his focus. Or he’s changing tactics.”
“I went to the store the other day. Even sat in a café without my disguise on,” she said. “I
think it’s over, Spencer.”

“Well, our instincts exist for a reason. They’re definitely a responses to speci—”

“I want to meet you.”

Maeve’s voice cut through the logic. Calm, direct.

Reid blinked, caught off guard. The thread of thought snapped.

“Do you hear me, Spence?”

“What? Yeah. I hear you.” His mind was racing. She had started going out again—exposed,
relaxed, vulnerable. If the stalker found her, she could be in real danger.

But now she was ready to meet him. If he could just get her to agree to an investigation, he
might be able to stop the stalker once and for all—and keep her truly safe.

“Well? What do you think?” Maeve’s voice softened, a little breathless. “I think it’s time.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I want to meet you, too.”

His phone rang. JJ. Will had probably come home. Reid was babysitting Henry while JJ and
Will celebrated her birthday.

“Sorry, I have to go.”

“It’s okay. We’ll talk soon.”

“Alright. Bye.”

“Bye. Love you.”

Maeve said it quickly, just before hanging up. She was careful not to sound desperate—but
her lips hovered a little closer to the phone, whispering the word like a secret.

She could almost see his reaction. Maybe he was blinking. Maybe his cheeks had gone pink.
She smiled to herself.

***

Reid blinked.

Did she just say...

JJ’s voice floated back in his mind.

“So you’re helping her by... what? Playing boyfriend?”

“You really think you’re not her love interest?”
He stepped out of the phone booth and walked a few paces before realizing he was headed
the wrong way.

***

“It was probably nothing.”

“Spence. You know it wasn’t nothing. That’s why you brought it up.”

“Well… what do I do?”

“You’re meeting her soon, right? Then talk. Face to face. No more phone dating game.”

“What—this isn’t a game!” Reid protested, clearly offended. Will glanced over from the
kitchen.

JJ sighed, feeling for a moment like she was talking to a teenage son who had no clue what
he was doing.

“That’s why it’s good you’re finally meeting. It’s a start, Spence. Of figuring out what this
even is. Her saying ‘I love you’ before you’ve even met? That’s not exactly normal. You need
to talk. In person. Then see where it goes.”

“Where what goes?” Reid frowned. More confused than ever.

JJ couldn’t hide her frustration. Social cues weren’t Reid’s strength—even less so when
feelings were involved. And Maeve, whether she meant to or not, kept muddying the waters.
Letting “love you” slip like that? It wasn’t fair.

“Just be aware,” JJ added softly, “she’s coming into this with certain expectations.”

Reid gave a small nod and swallowed hard.

***

“Hi, Maeve.”

The moment she heard Reid’s hesitant, uncertain tone, Maeve’s heart dipped.

Her confidence had always been fragile, and she knew it. After deliberately letting the “love
you” slip out, she felt bold for a while. But as the days passed, doubt began to creep back in.

They went through their usual small talk until Reid cleared his throat.

“Hey, um… about us meeting…” He paused, unsure how to go on. He needed to ask—
needed clarity.

“Spencer,” Maeve whispered, her voice soft and raw, “if you don’t want to meet me, you can
just say it.”

“No, that’s not it,” he said quickly. “I just… I want to understand your intentions.”
Maeve froze—but held tight to whatever control she still had.

“I have the test results,” she blurted.

“What?” Reid’s voice spiked louder than he meant.

“I have your genetic test results, Spencer. I was waiting to give them to you in person.”

His heart kicked up, erratic and fast.

“Can you... Can’t you just… just tell me over the phone?” He asked, trying to keep his voice
steady.

“I want to go through them with you. Explain everything. Properly.”

For a second, Reid couldn’t speak. She didn’t want to say it over the phone. It couldn't be
good.

“Spencer?”

“Uh… okay. So when are we meeting?”

“How about this Friday?”

***

December had arrived, and D.C. carried the hush of winter in the air.

They’d broken up in the summer, but Morgan’s heart hadn’t caught up. He still loved Reid—
quietly and relentlessly—as the seasons moved on without him.

From his office, Morgan watched Reid absentmindedly. It had become his secret routine, a
private pleasure, to admire Reid’s style every morning. He especially loved his winter layers.

Whatever Reid wore—Converse sneakers, a patterned dress shirt, a vest, or a soft cardigan—
it always reflected his tenderness. Morgan found it all very charming.

Back when they were dating, Morgan often got caught staring. Reid would always laugh, a
little shy.

“You’re the only person who looks at me like that.”

“You’re very attractive.”

Reid scoffed, blushing. “I’m not.”

“Why not?” Morgan always found it fascinating that Reid couldn’t see how gorgeous he was.

“Because I’m weird. I slouch. I’m skinny. My hair’s too long.”

Morgan had laughed, eyes soft with admiration.

But today, something felt different.

Morgan noticed a shadow clinging to Reid’s expression—subdued, tense. He frowned.

“What’s wrong, Dreamy D?” Garcia asked, looking up from her knitting. She’d been camped
out on his office couch for over half an hour.

“Do you feel something... off with Reid today?”

Garcia squinted through the window toward Reid’s desk.

Reid looked distracted, lost in thought. He was gently rocking in his chair, then began
spinning it.

“You think he does that for fun?” Garcia asked.

“No. It’s stimming. A way to self-soothe. He does it when he’s stressed—rocking, spinning,
fidgeting with his fingers.”

Garcia grinned. “And you think it’s cute.”

“I do,” Morgan admitted. “But it means he’s not okay.” He glanced back toward Reid, still
spinning.

Reid’s heart was heavy. He thought he’d prepared himself. But it still hurt.

Maeve hadn’t shared the test results over the phone. She wanted to explain in person. That
said everything.

She must’ve found genetic markers for schizophrenia.

Reid knew he didn’t meet the full criteria yet—his symptoms had lasted only a few months.
Most likely, he’d be diagnosed with schizophreniform disorder, where symptoms persist
under six months. If they lasted longer, it would become schizophrenia.

Once that diagnosis was official, he’d have to inform the Bureau. That could mean forced
medical leave—or losing his field status altogether.

At lunch, Morgan walked straight to Reid’s desk. “Hey. Get ready—I’m spoiling you with
dessert-for-lunch today.”

Reid frowned. “What for?”

“For joining the softball game last weekend.”

On the drive, Reid rolled down the window a little to let in the crisp Virginia air. It was short,
but the fresh breeze soothed his soul.

Morgan held the door open at Honey & Thyme. The warmth inside greeted them, fragrant
with cinnamon toast and roasted espresso beans.

They settled into a cozy booth beneath a trailing pothos plant, the walls around them dotted
with photographs of the Virginia countryside.

Reid’s face visibly brightened when the food arrived. A honey-vanilla parfait with house-
made granola and fresh blueberries, and a big cappuccino, perfectly foamed.

Morgan smiled, his heart tugging with the urge to gather him close and press a kiss to his
cheek.

Reid felt his gaze and looked up. Their eyes met, and a shy little smile passed between them.

“You had fun, right? At the softball game?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah,” Reid chuckled. “It feels like a dream now.”

Then his smile faltered.

“Morgan, what would you have done if I hadn’t hit the ball?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean… What if I failed?”

“Nothing. I would’ve just laughed and hugged you.”

Morgan grinned. “Come on, I didn’t actually think you were gonna hit it.”

“What?” Reid’s jaw dropped. “Then what was that pep talk for? I seriously thought you
believed in me.”

Morgan burst out laughing. “I would never believe in your batting skills, genius.”

Reid frowned. “But you made it feel so important.”

“It wasn’t. That’s exactly why I pushed you. Because it didn’t matter. And you actually
pulled it off.” Morgan chuckled.

Then he noticed Reid go quiet.

“Reid, are you mad?” Morgan asked carefully. But Reid was somewhere else—lost in
thought.

“So… you wouldn’t have been disappointed?”

Morgan looked at him, surprised. “Disappointed? Of course not. You really thought I would
be?”
“I just… didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Reid.” Morgan’s voice turned serious. “I’ll never, never be disappointed in you.”

His gaze was steady, so full of unwavering warmth that Reid instinctively looked away.

“Hey. Look at me.” Morgan waited until Reid met his eyes. “You’ll never disappoint me. Got
it?”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Even if…” Reid’s voice trailed off.

“What, Reid?”

“Even if the test results come back positive? You won’t be disappointed?”

“No,” Morgan said firmly. “I won’t.”

“Even a little?”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“I won’t.” Morgan reached out, gently taking Reid’s hand. “Reid. Whether you miss every
ball or have schizophrenia—it doesn’t matter to me.”

There was a pause.

“It doesn’t?” Reid whispered.

“Trust me. It doesn’t.”

Tears welled up in Reid’s eyes, spilling over before he could stop them.

Morgan gently stroked Reid’s hand with his thumb, but it wasn’t enough. His heart ached to
hold him, to shield him completely.

And yet, Reid already felt Morgan’s embrace—in his gaze, his words, the warmth of his
touch. Somehow, it wrapped around his soul. Held him. Protected him.

The tears slowed. Then stopped. He felt ready to face the results.

Reid nodded quietly. Morgan smiled. Reid smiled back.

“Can I touch your hair?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Reid said flatly, then gave a little laugh at Morgan’s pout.
I love him.

The thought came to Reid, like a quiet conviction—a declaration.

God, I love him.

And right then, Reid made up his mind. He would tell Morgan. That he loved him. That he
wanted to be with him for the rest of his life.

He’d tell him. When the test results came this Friday.

Whether he had schizophrenia or not.

 The Test Results
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 10-11. It's December 2012.
Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

Reid was scribbling on his notepad, completely absorbed.

Alex stepped up behind him. “I’ve always wondered what Spencer Reid’s grocery list looks
like.”

He glanced up briefly. “It’s actually the Riemann Hypothesis.”

“Which is?”

“It’s a mathematical conjecture from the 19th century. It states that the Riemann Zeta
function zeros all lie on the critical line.”

Alex nodded. “Right. Of course.”

“I doodle it time to time,” Reid said, still writing. “It sort of helps me unwind, you know?”

She scoffed. “Well, since we’re on the subject of unwinding, are you going to Rossi’s after
work?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve got something important.”

Alex studied him. She’d known Reid for almost three years now—ever since he guest
lectured in her linguistics class.

She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “It was Morgan, wasn’t it?”

Reid froze. “What?”

“Two years ago, you told me you were dating someone at work. You were glowing.”

He gave a quiet, almost bashful smile.

“What happened between you two?”

He liked Alex’s no-nonsense style. But this question was harder to answer.

She sighed and softened. “Well, it’s Friday. We’ll be at Rossi’s for a while. If you wrap up
your important thing early… come by.”
Reid nodded, a small smile returning. “Yeah. Maybe.”

***

It was the day Reid would finally meet Maeve. Finally get the test results. He wanted to focus
on convincing her to let him investigate the stalker, but the anxiety about the results wouldn’t
let go.

As soon as the workday ended, he packed up quickly. He sighed.

He slung the messenger bag over his shoulder. Then sighed again.

Just 40 more minutes. He glanced at his watch.

The tension spiked. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, so he hurried to the elevator. Behind him,
JJ watched with quiet concern.

***

La Grande Boucherie—Maeve’s choice—was in D.C., about 30 minutes from Quantico by

taxi.

Twinkling lights wove through the greenery at the entrance. Through the window, he saw
round tables draped in white linen, each set with a single candle and shining wine glasses.

Reid swallowed and tightened his grip on his bag strap as he stepped inside.

Piano music floated in the background, blending with the soft clink of glassware and cutlery.

“Spencer Reid. Reservation for two.”

The hostess smiled. “You’re the first to arrive. Would you like to be seated?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She led him to a small table. He set down his bag and scarf, then nervously tucked his hair
behind his ears.

A prickle ran up his spine. He looked up.

A man, sitting alone at a nearby table, was watching him. Their eyes met briefly before the
man looked away.

Reid frowned. His instincts kicked in—trained, precise. Something about that glance, that
posture—it wasn’t right. As Reid kept watching, the man glanced back again. Over his
shoulder.

His heart jumped. Reid fumbled for his phone, dialed quickly.

“Hello?” Maeve’s voice.

“It’s me,” he said. “Listen, don’t come to the restaurant.”

“What? I’m outside.” Her tone was confused, but still light.

“Maeve, go home. I think your stalker’s here.”

There was a sharp inhale. Her smile vanished.

“What?”

“Please,” he said, more urgent now. “Just go.”

She didn’t argue. The line went dead.

Reid carefully watched the man. Then Reid’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling—checking the
security cameras. Discreet, but visible. If the stalker were smart, he wouldn’t sit in plain sight
like that.

Still, Reid didn’t relax. Not yet. He stood and began walking toward the table—watching the
man’s body language. If he ran, Reid would follow.

But then—

Another man reached the table first. The seated man lit up. “Hey, Dick. Good to see you,” he
said, clearly relieved.

Reid stopped. Exhaled. False alarm. Just a guy nervously waiting for his friend.

***

After the call ended, Maeve pulled her coat tighter and rushed back toward the taxi. But just
before getting in, she turned—and saw him.

Spencer.

He was taller than she’d imagined. That slender frame, the navy cardigan—it made him carry
a quiet kind of grace. But even from a distance, she could feel the protective energy. He was
standing there for her. Tense. Focused. Ready.

She couldn’t tell who or what he was watching, but after a few seconds, he stepped deeper
into the restaurant and vanished from view.

Maeve stood frozen on the sidewalk.

She didn’t want to go home. Spencer was inside, probably trying to figure out what to do
about the stalker. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to show him that he made her strong.

Just a small act of courage. That was enough.

So she turned around and walked back toward the restaurant, even though danger might be
inside. Her hand trembled as she pushed the door open. She approached the hostess and
handed over the small gift bag.
“Please give this to Spencer Reid,” she said.

Then she left.

Her heart was pounding.

Spencer, I did it. I went inside. I was there—in the same space with you.

In the taxi home, her breathing began to slow. The weight of what just happened started to
settle in.

If her stalker really had been there, it meant he was still tracking her—maybe through her
phone. That’s how he would’ve found the reservation.

She didn’t know how Spencer had sensed the threat, but she trusted that he would act. He
couldn’t arrest anyone without proof, but he’d find a way. A DNA sample, camera footage—
something. He’d hunt him down. She was sure of it.

Maeve had always known this day would come.

And deep down, she also knew she hadn’t kept Spencer out of the investigation just for his
safety. She wanted time. More moments. More conversations.

She needed to be sure he cared. Even if it meant putting off the inevitable.

But now—now she was sure.

He did care. Every Sunday, he called. From different payphones, no matter how far he had to
travel. He listened to her talk. Sometimes for hours. He was devoted. Almost obsessively so.

But... did he love her?

She would know. After this was over—after he caught the stalker—she would know.

Maeve looked out at the dark streets sliding past the window. Despite the night, her heart felt
light.

She had left the gift.

The best one Spencer could have received. The test results, and a message.

Love is our destiny.

He’d be thrilled to see the results. And when he read the message, he’d understand. The
genetic testing was never just about him getting the answer. The testing was how they met. It
brought them together.

They were destined to find each other.

***
“Excuse me, sir. A woman just left this for you.”

The hostess handed Reid a gift bag. Inside was a book by Conan Doyle. Maeve. Reid gasped,
his eyes darting toward the door. Then, Something slipped from between the pages and
fluttered to the floor.

An envelope. Stamped with the logo of The George Washington University Hospital.

Reid froze. His breath caught as he reached down to pick it up. It had to be the genetic test
results.

He swallowed hard, instinctively glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Then,
slowly, he opened the envelope and pulled out the papers.

One glance was enough—he knew the terminology well. He could understand everything
instantly.

But he didn’t move. He just stared, motionless, as if the words weren’t registering.

His brow furrowed. He leaned in closer, read the lines again. And again.

Finally, his lips parted. He inhaled.

The results were clear. However many times he looked, the answer stayed the same. He
couldn’t believe it. His thoughts were slow to catch up.

No genetic markers for schizophrenia.

No diagnosis. Not even Schizophreniform Disorder. Not even Attenuated Psychosis

Syndrome.

Nothing.

He was completely in the clear.

A letter from his psychiatrist was attached, explaining that the hallucinations were likely a
result of subconscious anxiety and migraine auras.

He blinked. Looked up. Blinked again.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed his bag. His breath caught again as he stepped into the cold
December air.

It felt strangely gentle. Unreal.

He got in a taxi and rode to Rossi’s. His pulse thundered—in his throat, his stomach, his
hands clutched tight around the bag strap.

***
The moment Reid rang the bell, he could hear laughter, music, and the hum of conversation.
It was warm inside.

The door swung open with a flourish. Garcia stood there, sparkling earrings, a bright smile,
mid-sip of something bubbly. She blinked. “You came!”

“Yeah,” Reid breathed out. “I did.”

His voice felt too small for his chest. Too small for what he was holding in his lungs.

Garcia backed up, still grinning but watching him carefully. She must’ve known something
was different. He stepped inside, heart thudding painfully.

The house buzzed with familiar voices. Alex and Rossi noticed him first and greeted him
with easy warmth. But their words barely registered.

Because Morgan was leaning against the kitchen counter.

Reid’s eyes locked on him like they’d been searching the whole world to land there. Morgan
hadn’t seen him yet—he was laughing at something JJ had said—but then he glanced up.

And time stuttered.

Morgan’s expression shifted—soft surprise, then something radiant and unguarded. He

smiled as his body straightened.

“Reid. Hey.”

Reid didn’t answer.

He was already moving.

He reached Morgan in four steps, and without a single word, threw his arms around his neck.
His hands gripped the back of Morgan’s shirt. His cheek pressed against Morgan’s shoulder
like he’d just made it to land after weeks lost at sea.

Morgan froze. Just for a second. Then wrapped his arms around Reid. Firm. Disbelieving.

The room fell silent.

JJ’s wine glass stopped halfway to her lips. Alex’s brows climbed her forehead. Garcia had
both hands over her heart. Rossi leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow and smile.

“Reid?” Morgan whispered, close to his ear. “What—”

Reid cupped his face. Met his bewildered eyes for one breathless moment.

Then kissed him.

It was clumsy, rushed, full of urgency. But he didn’t stop.

Morgan stilled for half a second—then kissed back. Tentative at first. Then matching him,
moment for moment. Strong hands anchored Reid’s waist.

Garcia fanned herself. Alex elbowed JJ. Rossi took a slow sip of scotch.

The others started talking again—JJ’s birthday, Alex’s classes—giving them space.

Because Reid didn’t stop kissing him. And Morgan wasn’t about to stop him either.

When Reid finally pulled back, his face was flushed. His eyes shimmered.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Morgan asked softly.

“What’s going on?” he repeated, like it had never occurred to him to explain.

“Yeah,” Morgan said, half-laughing, eyes searching.

“I love you,” Reid said. “That’s what’s going on.”

Then he wrapped his arms around Morgan’s neck again. Morgan, still stunned, held him close
and kissed his temple.

“I don’t have it, Morgan.”

Morgan blinked. “What?” he asked, slightly pulling back to see Reid’s face.

“I don’t have the genes. No schizophrenia. No markers.”

Morgan’s expression shifted. He stared at Reid, like trying to absorb it all at once. Then
pulled him close again, his palm cradling the back of Reid’s head.

“Thank God,” he breathed. “Thank God, Spencer.”

Then he cupped Reid’s face in both hands and kissed him.

When they finally pulled apart, Rossi called out, “Are you boys done, or should I go get a
garden hose?”

Reid snorted. Morgan’s ears turned red.

“Um,” Morgan mumbled.

“No,” Reid said with a grin and just the right amount of sass. “We’re not done.” And leaned
back in—this time slower. Sweeter. They smiled against each other’s mouths.

JJ rolled her eyes. Alex raised a toast. Rossi smirked like he’d seen it coming. Garcia had
already snapped photos and sent them to Emily.

But none of that mattered.

For the rest of the evening, Reid didn’t let go of Morgan’s hand once. Not through dinner.
Not through the laughter. Not even when they both tried to pretend they weren’t sneaking
glances every five seconds.

Their fingers stayed laced together.

Like coming home. Like finding their way back.

As Reid stepped into his taxi, Morgan asked quietly, “You coming over tomorrow?”

Reid smiled. “Yeah. I’ll make a few calls in the morning and come over.”

Morgan smiled, then gave his hand one last squeeze.

 Their Saturday (1)
Chapter Notes

It's December 2012. Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

In the morning, he called his mother, Aidan, and Emily—each of them had been anxious
about his test results. A smile tugged at his lips, the corners of his mouth lifting without
permission.

Then he drove to a payphone he’d never used before to call Maeve. He knew he’d already
called her from his own phone yesterday, from the restaurant. Still, using the payphone felt
like the right thing to do. Just something to help her feel a little safer.

It went straight to voicemail. Not for the first time. Reid stayed relaxed. She was probably in
the shower or something.

“Maeve, it’s me. I’m sorry about last night. It was a false alarm. Thank you for the test
results. It really meant a lot.” He paused. “I’ll call you again next weekend.”

***

Reid knocked at Morgan’s door a little before noon. Morgan welcomed him like he’d been
gone for years—with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a smile he couldn’t seem to contain.

“So? What do you want to do?” Reid asked, sipping his coffee.

“Anything,” Morgan said with a smile. “As long as it’s with you.”

“I’ve got a couple things I need from Home Depot.” Reid said mischievously.

“No,” Morgan said firmly. “We’re doing something romantic today.”

“You said anything,” Reid laughed.

For a second, Morgan just watched him, his smile softening.

“Reid.”

When Reid looked up, Morgan’s gaze was a little serious. A little shy. His hand brushed
Reid’s cheek, and then they kissed.

It lingered. Tender, deliberate.

The shy, awkward smiles came after, like they always did when they kissed like that.
“Let’s go ice skating,” Morgan said.

“I can’t ice skate.”

“I’ll teach you. Come on.” Morgan grinned and stood up.

Reid stayed seated a moment longer before reluctantly getting to his feet. “Can’t we just go to
a café or something?”

“You need more exercise.”

“Why?” Reid groaned. “I don’t need to burn off sexual tension through sports anymore, do
I?”

No answer.

He glanced over—and caught Morgan blushing. Reid raised an eyebrow, then grinned.

He stepped behind Morgan, wrapped his arms around him, and whispered into his ear,
“You’ll help me release it tonight, right?”

Morgan yelped. “Reid!” He turned around quickly, covering his ear, visibly flustered.

Reid chuckled.

There he is. Spencer in full sass mode. Morgan let out a shaky breath, heart thudding hard.
It’d be a lie to say he hadn’t been thinking about it.

Tonight…

His skin flushed hot. It had been more than five months since he last touched Spencer like
that. Excitement twisted in his chest, so fierce it bordered on pain.

***

Morgan and Reid arrived at the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden Rink just after
noon. The sky was a soft winter gray, and though the air carried a crisp bite, it wasn’t too
cold. Laughter and music drifted across the ice. Couples twirled hand-in-hand, kids wobbled
past in neon puffer jackets. The rink was crowded, full of motion and color, but somehow it
felt like there was space just for the two of them.

Reid couldn’t skate.

He stepped onto the ice like a newborn deer—long limbs stiff, boots angled wrong. He
immediately clung to Morgan’s arm, one hand gripping his jacket like he was bracing for
death.

Morgan laughed, low and affectionate. “You didn’t tell me you were helpless.”

Reid shot him a glare. “I told you I can’t skate.”

“Here.” Morgan steadied him with both hands, guiding him gently, like he was something
precious.

It took a while, but eventually Reid figured out how to shift his weight just right. He never let
go of Morgan’s arm, but he stopped clinging. Reid’s nose was pink from the cold, his breath
puffing visibly in the air.

Morgan stared.

As if there was any other choice.

“Stop staring at my face,” Reid muttered, narrowly catching himself before a stumble.

“You look really cute with a red nose,” Morgan said, grinning.

Reid scrunched his nose and gave Morgan the hardest shove he could manage.

Morgan barely budged, just gliding forward a little, while Reid, with a dramatic flail of arms,
promptly lost his balance and landed on the ice with a loud thump.

Morgan couldn’t help it—he laughed, and quickly skated back. He leaned down, offering his
hand. “You okay, baby?”

Reid took his hand, but he was scowling. His hair was messy, his gloves were wet, and his
pride was bruised. Morgan, of course, looked like he had just walked off a magazine cover.

“You’re enjoying this,” Reid accused as Morgan pulled him upright.

“I mean…” Morgan chuckled, brushing some snow off Reid’s jacket. “A little. You falling is
kinda adorable.”

Reid’s glare deepened.

“Alright, alright,” Morgan said, throwing his hands up. “What can I do to fix it? Name it.”

Reid thought for a moment, eyeing his annoying grin. Then his eyes lit up with pure
mischief. “Dance. On the ice.”

Morgan blinked, his grin faltering. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious.”

Morgan groaned, but one look at Reid’s stubborn, grumpy face and he sighed, resigning
himself. “You better not tell Garcia about this.”

Still grumbling under his breath, Morgan closed his eyes, playing some hip-hop beat in his
head. He bobbed his head a few times, getting into rhythm. Then he started to move—small
steps at first, cautious sways, then bigger, more confident moves. His hands got involved too,
snapping and pointing in beat.
It wasn’t perfect, but with his leather jacket, cocky grin, and natural charisma, Morgan
somehow pulled it off. A few people—mostly kids and a couple of giggling ladies—started
watching, some even cheering him on.

Reid couldn’t help it. He smiled wide, his earlier irritation forgotten. He wasn’t sure if it was
because Morgan obeyed him without even thinking twice, or because Morgan looked so
ridiculously charming out there, dancing just for him.

Maybe both.

When Morgan finally wrapped it up with an exaggerated twirl that somehow didn’t end in
disaster, he skated right up to Reid, stopped on a dime, and planted a quick, warm kiss on
Reid’s cheek.

Somewhere nearby, people clapped and whistled.

Morgan leaned in, smirking. “Feeling better, genius?”

“Yeah. I feel better.” Reid laughed, the little points of his canines peeking out. Then he
returned a kiss on Morgan’s cheek.

Soon enough, hunger got the better of them. They found a food truck nearby and ordered
hotdogs and coffee, their hands warming around the paper cups. They settled on a wooden
bench just outside the garden, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

At one point, Morgan reached over, swiping a bit of ketchup from the corner of Reid’s mouth
with his finger and licked it off. They both chuckled softly, a shared memory flickering
between them, thinking of their Home Depot hangout.

Not to be outdone, Reid leaned in and licked the corner of Morgan’s mouth directly, earning
himself a flustered laugh and a red-faced Morgan.

***

Back at home, Morgan dove into Reid’s genetic test results, scanning the pages with eager
focus. His coffee sat forgotten on the table, cooling untouched.

After a long moment, he finally looked up.

“So... I get that you don’t have any genes linked to schizophrenia, but then... what was the
butterfly?”

In response, Reid handed him a letter from the psychiatrist. It was written in professional,
clipped language—full of terminology that made Morgan’s head spin. Clearly, the doctor
hadn’t bothered to simplify anything, knowing Reid would understand it all.
To: Dr. Spencer Reid
Subject: Summary of Clinical Findings and Diagnostic Impression

Dear Dr. Reid,

Following our recent consultations and review of your clinical history, the transient visual
phenomena you reported are most consistent with a convergence of psychogenic and
neurovascular etiologies, rather than indicative of a primary psychotic disorder.

At the time of symptom onset, you were experiencing significant affective elevation
associated with personal milestones, juxtaposed with latent, heritable anxiety regarding
potential schizophreniform pathology. This internalized conflict likely constituted a form of
subconscious cognitive dissonance, manifesting as subclinical psychological stress. Such
stress is known to precipitate transient perceptual disturbances in predisposed individuals.

Moreover, your heightened metacognitive vigilance and anticipatory anxiety may have
contributed to expectation-driven perceptual distortions—a phenomenon wherein
hyperawareness and fear of psychopathology bias sensory interpretation, effectively creating
a feedback loop between cognitive expectation and perceptual experience.

Additionally, your concurrent cephalalgia, with features suggestive of migraine with aura,
provides a plausible neurovascular correlate. Migraine aura is capable of producing complex
visual hallucinations and is often exacerbated by emotional or psychological stressors.

Conclusion:
Your episodic hallucinations appear multifactorial, most plausibly attributable to:
1. Subconscious psychogenic stress related to familial psychiatric risk,
2. Expectation-driven perceptual bias, and
3. Migraine aura phenomena.

Importantly, your recent neuroimaging and genetic screenings do not support a prodromal
psychotic process. The phenomena are best interpreted as stress-related and transient, without
evidence of underlying schizophrenia spectrum pathology.

Please do not hesitate to reach out for further clarification or continued monitoring.

Sincerely,
Dr. Charles E. Whitmore, M.D.
Attending Psychiatrist
The George Washington University Hospital

“Okay...” Morgan looked up. “Explanation?”

Reid hesitated, searching for where to begin.

“Last April in Chicago, we exchanged the origami rings, remember?”

“Of course.” Morgan smiled tentatively, not sure where this was going.
“It was just origami, but... the commitment felt real. I was so overwhelmingly happy.” Reid
blushed, lowering his gaze.

“Me too, Reid. I was too,” Morgan said, his voice softening. He remembered the feeling—
how his chest had swelled, how profound it all felt.

“And then at JJ’s wedding. We danced. And you said...”

“We’ll marry, Reid. We both know that. Don’t we?” Morgan quoted himself, his heart
tugging. He’d replayed that moment in his head so many times.

“Yeah.” Reid flushed. “And I said yes.”

They paused, smiling at each other.

“It was after JJ’s wedding that I started seeing hallucinations. Right when I seriously began
thinking about marrying you.”

Morgan listened, overwhelmed.

“When marriage became real, my fear of developing schizophrenia intensified.”

Morgan nodded. That made sense.

“My brain became hyper-vigilant, constantly scanning for signs. It created a feedback loop—
what’s called expectation-driven perception. Basically, my brain shaped reality based on what
I feared.”

Morgan nodded again, absorbing every word.

“What is migraine aura phenomena?”

“Migraines can sometimes cause transient perceptual changes known as migraine with aura.
That was another contributor to the hallucinations.”

“So... you had symptoms because you were thinking about marrying me?”

“Yeah. I was extremely happy... and extremely afraid at the same time.”

Morgan’s chest ached with emotion. He held out his hands.

“Reid. Come here.”

Reid hesitated a beat, then complied, settling sideways on Morgan’s lap. Morgan wrapped his
arms around him and buried his face against Reid’s chest.

Reid draped his arms over Morgan’s shoulders, resting his head gently. The warmth between
them was impossibly comforting. Reid exhaled, content.

“Morgan...” Reid murmured. “Before I found out the results, I’d already decided. I was
coming back to you.”
“Really?”

Reid’s head stayed tucked against his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“I was ready to wait years if I had to,” Morgan said softly.

Reid was quiet for a moment, brushing his fingers gently along Morgan’s back.

“I want to love you without fear,” Reid whispered, sounding far too relaxed for such a heavy
confession. “There is no fear in love.”

Morgan tightened his hold. “I love you without fear.”

“I know you do.” Reid smiled against his shoulder.

Morgan lifted his head just enough to look at Reid’s peaceful profile. “Can I propose to you
now?”

“I think you already have. Several times,” Reid said, too lazy to lift his head.

“But you never answered.”

“I think I did last time.”

“Then you broke up with me.”

“That’s true.” Reid laughed quietly.

Morgan tilted his head, trying to see his face.

“Can you marry me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Reid hummed, content.

“Can you at least say ‘yes’?”

Reid smiled lazily and shot back, “You’re supposed to say ‘will’ you marry me, not ‘can’
you.”

Morgan scoffed and buried his face again. “Fine. Will you marry me?”

But Reid, still slow and relaxed, kept rambling.

“The use of ‘will’ in proposals dates back to Middle English. It denoted both volition and
future action. ‘Can’ is about ability. ‘Will’ is about wanting to.”

“Do you want to?”

“I do.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head at the total lack of traditional tension in the proposal.
“I’ll ask again when I have the rings. I’ll get down on one knee. I’ll say ‘Will you,’ and you’ll
say ‘yes,’ okay?”

“Okay,” Reid agreed easily.

Morgan smiled and snuggled his cheek against Reid’s chest.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“Anything you cook,” Reid said, sounding perfectly at home.

 Their Saturday (2)

Morgan turned off the shower and exhaled a sharp breath into the warm steam curling
through the room. His pulse quickened.

Reid had already showered and was waiting in bed.

Morgan dried off roughly and wrapped a towel around his waist. He shaved, brushed his
teeth, then pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants. Normally, he went shirtless after a shower
when he was alone. But when Reid was home, he never stepped out without a shirt. In the
early days of their relationship, Reid's nervous tension would spike at the sight of Morgan’s
bare chest—so Morgan had been careful. Eventually, it became a habit.

He glanced into the bedroom.

Reid was there in his night robe and glasses, lounging casually on the bed with his ankles
crossed. He was pretending to read, but Morgan knew better. Every nerve in Reid’s body was
humming with anticipation.

The bed creaked softly as Morgan climbed on and lay facing him. Reid set the book aside,
took off his glasses, and hesitantly turned to face him, mirroring the gesture.

They gazed at each other, shyly. Unspoken waves of emotion passed between them.

“Can I touch your hair now?” Morgan whispered.

“You may,” Reid said, grinning.

Morgan reached out, fingers slipping into Reid’s hair, stroking gently. Reid’s eyes fluttered
shut. Morgan kept at it, slow and quiet.

Reid opened his eyes. “That’s all you’re gonna do?”

“I’m appreciating it,” Morgan said. “I shouldn’t take it for granted.”

His serious tone made Reid laugh.

“Reid, I love you,” Morgan said, voice soft but steady.

“I love you too,” Reid replied, his smile fading into something deeper.

He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Morgan’s neck. He nuzzled into the warmth of
Morgan’s neck, breathing him in, making Morgan chuckle softly.

Morgan embraced him, gently at first, as if afraid to break something fragile. Then he held
tighter, burying his face in Reid’s shoulder. A rough, broken sigh escaped him.

Reid pressed a kiss to Morgan’s neck. Morgan closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
Their hearts raced.

Without a word, they pulled back just enough to strip off their clothes, movements clumsy
with urgency. They needed nothing more than each other’s skin.

Morgan pulled him close again. The bare heat of Reid’s body made him groan. Reid let out a
shaky breath. The heat between them flared, raw and urgent. They clung to each other,
pressing every inch of skin together.

Their legs tangled. Their arms wrapped tight, as if they could somehow fuse into one.

“Reid... I want to be inside you,” Morgan murmured. “Deep inside you.”

Reid trembled. Morgan’s words alone nearly undid him.

Me too. I want it too. His breath hitched, too overwhelmed to say it out loud.

Instead, he rasped, “Get... get the lube.”

Morgan laughed softly, his shoulders relaxing. “You’re so romantic,” he said, pressing a
smiling kiss to Reid’s cheek.

Morgan started to sit up, but Reid clung stubbornly to his torso.

Morgan laughed again. “Reid, just a second. I’m just getting the lube from the drawer…”

But Reid wouldn’t let go, wrapping his arms and legs around him even tighter, like a koala.
Morgan reached awkwardly toward the drawer with one hand, the other still holding Reid. He
barely managed to open the nightstand—the one he hadn’t touched in five months.

Morgan lay on top of Reid. It started with a kiss that wouldn’t end—hands roaming like they
were afraid to ever let go.

“Can we do it this way?” Morgan whispered. “Face to face?”

Reid nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. Just… stay close.”

Keeping their bodies pressed together, Morgan gently lifted Reid’s legs and reached down,
preparing him tenderly with the lube. A wave of excitement trembled through Reid. His face
burned with desire.

Reid wanted their chests touching the whole time. But they quickly realized that staying
completely aligned was nearly impossible.

Morgan shifted between Reid’s legs. When he tried to enter him, the angle forced distance
between their bodies. Reid reached up, trying to pull him back down.

Their hips misaligned. Reid scooted closer, trying to fix it.

“Wait, let me—” Morgan adjusted, abs trembling with effort. “This is not working.”

Reid giggled.

“Reid, um...” Morgan started laughing too, tension dissolving into something softer.

“Stay close, Morgan.”

“You’re the one with your knees in my ribs.”

“I’m just trying to—ow, wait—”

“Okay, stop moving for a second.”

They rolled again, awkwardly. Morgan tried spooning, but Reid let out a frustrated noise. “I
can’t see you.”

“Reid, if we roll one more time, we’re gonna fall off the bed.”

Morgan half sat up—and somehow, Reid ended up straddling his lap, legs wrapped around
his waist. They froze.

Breathing.

Looking at each other.

Reid blinked, arms looped around Morgan’s shoulders.

Morgan’s hands slid to Reid’s back. Their bodies pressed together with effortless closeness.

“Can we... try this?” Morgan asked.

“Maybe,” Reid said, exhaling a shaky breath.

He shifted his hips. Morgan held the base of his length to guide him, and Reid found the right
angle.

“Ready?” Reid whispered, voice trembling, shy but eager.

“Yeah,” Morgan said, his voice low, his face flushed.

Reid slowly eased down onto him.

“Ah..uhhh...”

A soft cry escaped him—raw, unfiltered. His fingers dug into Morgan’s back. Their skin grew
hot with sweat. The sensation was overwhelming.

Morgan let out a ragged moan as Reid took him in fully.

The connection was soul-deep. They held each other tighter. Their bodies aligned—arms,
chests, hips—until there was no space left between them.

They breathed together. Slow. Steady.

Morgan didn’t move to chase pleasure. He just held Reid, anchoring him with strong hands at
his waist.

Reid rocked his hips with a careful rhythm, gentle and deliberate.

Morgan kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then the corner of his mouth—like he couldn’t decide
where to land.

Reid pressed closer, arms tight around Morgan’s shoulders. Their chests rubbed with every
movement, slick with sweat, hearts thudding between them like a shared secret.

The rhythm never faltered. They moved together, slow and steady, until the pleasure crested
like a tide. Reid reached down to touch himself, heightening the sensation, his breath
catching in Morgan’s ear.

Morgan came first, quiet, his face buried in Reid’s neck. His arms didn’t loosen. If anything,
he held Reid tighter.

Reid followed soon after, with a breathless shudder, his entire body curling around Morgan.

They stayed like that—trembling, skin to skin—until the only motion left was the rise and
fall of their chests.

No rush. No words.

Then they kissed, slow and emotional, letting the silence do the talking.

***

The next Saturday, they weren’t so lucky.

The case in Pensacola, Florida, dragged into the weekend.

Things escalated when they identified the unsub. Morgan and Hotch rushed into a hospital
where he’d been spotted.

During the confrontation, Morgan took a hit to the vest. The bullet didn’t break skin, but the
impact still knocked him down.

Morgan usually never let that happen. In high-stakes moments like this, his instincts were
razor-sharp. He was always half a second faster than the unsub.

But this time, it happened in the hospital’s nursery. Surrounded by cribs and pastel walls,
Morgan hesitated.

Reid found out quickly that Morgan was fine, but for a moment, it crushed him.
When the gunshot rang out, Reid was outside the perimeter, frozen, one hand pressed to the
comm in his ear. He heard Hotch’s voice—low and sharp.

“Agent down. Get a doctor in here. Now.”

Those words hit Reid harder than the gunshot.

“Morgan?” His voice cracked. “Morgan!”

His heart kicked into overdrive. His vision blurred. He didn’t even realize he was running
toward the hospital entrance until he heard Rossi shouting behind him.

“Reid! Stay put—”

But he didn’t stop.

He found Morgan slumped against the wall, breathing hard, one hand over his abdomen.

“Morgan.”

The word cracked out of Reid like something torn from him. He dropped to his knees.

“Reid,” Morgan said, voice low but steady. “I’m fine. Vest took it. I’m okay.”

Hotch stepped in and laid a hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Paramedics are here. Step back.”

Morgan was discharged later that day with nothing more than a bruised rib and a bottle of
painkillers.
By Monday, they were all back in Quantico.

Reid forgot to call Maeve that weekend.

 Christmas2012
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 12. It's December 2012.
Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

“Maeve, it’s me. I’m sorry about last night. It was a false alarm. Thank you for the test
results. It really meant a lot. I’ll call you again next weekend.”

Maeve’s face tightened as she listened to Reid’s voicemail.

She didn’t replay it. Didn’t need to.

So anticlimactic. To say the least.

After their near-miss at the restaurant, she’d expected something dramatic. Something life-
changing. The start of a real love story.

But nothing happened.

And whatever the reason, Spencer never called her the following weekend.

In the two weeks of silence, her obsession began to wane. Reality was setting in. They clearly
weren’t on the same page.

Her eyes drifted to the unsent letter still sitting on her desk.

[I bought the blindfold today. I can’t wait to use it.]

She had written it with a smile.

A memory came back. One of their conversations. She’d asked if he ever dated in high
school. He said no. She teased him.

“Oh, come on. Girls must’ve adored you.”

Spencer laughed. “Why would you say that? You don’t even know what I look like.”

Then he told her the story.

He was twelve. A girl had left him a note, asking to meet. Told him to wear a blindfold. Then
she took off his shirt. That’s when the laughter started.
Most of the senior class had been watching.
Maeve’s heart ached for him. When he asked about her, she lied. Said she hadn’t had much
dating experience either. She wanted him to think they were alike. Two prodigies,
misunderstood. Lonely.

She wanted him to see her as his equal.

“Do you know how many Friday nights I spent with just a microscope?” she joked.

“I thought it was just me,” Spencer said, scoffing softly.

She smiled against the phone, voice soft and suggestive. “When we finally meet, I’m going to
make blindfolds fun again.”

But Spencer missed the cue. “Like... Pin the Tail on the Donkey?”

“Maybe,” she said, amused. “Or Marco Polo.”

That got a chuckle from him. He told her a lighter, more recent memory—about the time he
was on crutches, got stuck in the shower, naked, and had to yell for his friend… who he made
promise to keep his eyes shut. A real-life game of Marco Polo.

Maeve had laughed. How shy could he possibly be? And yet… imagining him, dripping wet
and helpless, made her blush.

[I bought the blindfold today. I can’t wait to use it.]

Back when she’d written that, she’d felt giddy. Maybe he’d take it innocently again. Or
maybe, finally, he’d catch the hint. Blush. Fluster. Maybe.

Now, she set the letter down with a sigh.

She thought of the quote she once loved—the one she had written inside the book she left for
Spencer:

--Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it
with another.--

But it didn’t move her the way it used to.

Maybe I just wanted to be with someone. I’ve been alone for so long...

Spencer was special. His tenderness, his awkward charm, his mind. Talking to him had felt
like peace. It was effortless.

“I just wanted to be with someone,” she whispered aloud.

A confession to herself. Or maybe an attempt to reclaim her pride—pretending Spencer

wasn’t that special after all.
The doorbell rang. She jumped.

Only her parents knew where she was. But in her heart, she hoped—irrationally, desperately
—that it was Spencer. That he’d found her. Tracked her down. Finally stopped being passive
and come to claim her.

She checked the security camera.

It wasn’t Spencer.

It was Diane. Bobby’s new girlfriend. Maeve blinked in shock and opened the door.

“Diane?” she said, startled. “How did you know this place? Where’s Bobby?”

She never got an answer. The next moment, something hard slammed into her head.

Maeve collapsed. Unconscious.

***

When Maeve came to, the world was spinning—her head throbbed, and her vision blurred.

What happened...?

As the haze began to lift, she realized she was tied to a chair. The room around her was
unfamiliar—an old loft, maybe. Once lived in, now long forgotten. Wallpaper peeled in wide
strips, exposing cracked plaster. Broken furniture slumped in corners.

“Hello, Doctor,” came a voice.

Diane stepped into view, her expression eerily calm.

Cold sweat prickled down Maeve’s spine. Diane. She’d knocked her down back at the
apartment.

“Why... why are you doing this?” Maeve rasped.

Diane tilted her head. “I just don’t understand what’s so fucking special about you,” she
murmured, as if genuinely puzzled.

“If this is about Bobby,” Maeve said, her voice shaky, “I swear I haven’t even spoken to him
since the breakup.”

Diane scoffed. Her eyes gleamed. “This isn’t about Bobby.”

She took a slow step forward. “You’re the reason I met Bobby.”

Maeve blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I want what you have.”

It was then Maeve noticed—Diane was wearing her clothes. Even her earrings. Her shoes.
And suddenly, the truth hit her like a blow to the chest. She was the stalker.

“What did I ever do to you?” Maeve asked. “I don’t even know you.”

“‘I don’t even know you,’” Diane repeated flatly. Then she burst into a jagged, bitter laugh.
Maeve flinched at the sound.

“Because I’m nobody,” Diane whispered. She began pacing, muttering under her breath,
“Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody…”

Maeve stayed silent. Any wrong move might tip Diane further over the edge.

“You rejected my thesis,” Diane said abruptly, her tone unreadable.

“What?”

“I was a research assistant at Mendel University. Applied to the PhD program. Got rejected.
Because of you.”

Maeve’s eyes widened. That’s what this is about? A rejection?

She shook her head, trying to reason. “Do you know how many internal applicants get turned
down? Only a few make it through.”

“Only geniuses like you, Dr. Donovan?” Maeve tensed as Diane stepped closer. “Or maybe...
Dr. Spencer Reid?”

Maeve froze. “How do you know about Spencer?”

Diane’s lips curled. “Bobby. That idiot still cared about you. Hired a private detective to
catch your stalker. The detective traced your reservation at that restaurant. So Bobby went
there to check on you. And I followed him.”

She paused. “And I saw your new boyfriend.”

Maeve’s breath caught. She’d had no idea Bobby had been there that night—or that Diane
had been watching, too.

“I want him too.” Diane leaned her head to the side, watching Maeve’s reaction with sick
fascination.

“Spencer will arrest you,” Maeve said, her voice firming. “He’s an FBI agent.”

“I know,” Diane said brightly, delighted. “I did a lot of research on him. He’s brilliant. Like
you.” Her smile widened unnaturally. “Did you know he’s good at chess?”

She pulled Maeve’s phone from her pocket and held it up.

“The next time he calls… I know just what to say.”

Diane stepped close. Maeve turned her face away, but Diane leaned in, whispered into her
ear.

“Zugzwang.”

She drew the word out, slow and quiet.

“No-win move. He’ll fight for you—but I’ll kill you anyway.”

***

Saturday after the Florida case was Christmas.

The kitchen was warm, steeped in the scent of rosemary and garlic. Snow pressed softly
against the windowpanes, muting the outside world.

This year, it was just Morgan and Reid for Christmas dinner.

Morgan stood at the counter, slicing vegetables with unhurried ease. Beside him, Reid
hovered over a saucepan, sleeves rolled up, cheeks flushed from the heat.

It had been nearly six months since they’d done this—just the two of them, side by side in a
kitchen. Morgan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. The scent of food. The faint stir of
simmering sauce. The way Reid measured ingredients with scientific precision. The quiet
comfort of domesticity.

He glanced over.

Reid was leaning in slightly, tapping a spoon against the saucepan’s rim, lips parted in
thought. His hair curled from the warmth, and the stove’s glow lit the defined line of his jaw.
His arms—stronger now, more sculpted than they had been in his twenties—caught Morgan’s
eye.

The rush of affection came sudden and fierce.

Without thinking, Morgan stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around Reid’s waist.

Reid startled, but didn’t pull away. “You’re going to make me spill it,” he murmured, even as
he leaned back a little into the embrace.

Morgan smiled against his ear. “Couldn’t help it.”

His hands settled at Reid’s waist, fingers splayed. He pressed a kiss to the crook of Reid’s
neck, slow and deliberate.

Reid’s spine straightened, a subtle tremor in his exhale. “Morgan…”

Morgan hummed, lips grazing warm skin. “I adore you,” he whispered.

The spoon slipped from Reid’s fingers, clinking softly into the sink. He turned his head,
searching for Morgan’s mouth, one hand reaching back to cover Morgan’s at his waist.

Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, time slowed.

Morgan’s hands slid beneath Reid’s shirt, reverent and warm. They explored slowly, mapping
familiar skin.

He pressed closer, chest to Reid’s back, his breath hot and erratic against the nape of Reid’s
neck.

Reid couldn’t resist. His hand reached back to grab Morgan’s thigh and pressed his hips
against the hard line of Morgan’s arousal. He rocked his hips gently, savoring the feel of
Morgan behind him.

Morgan groaned, the friction dizzying. “Reid, you’re trying to kill me.”

“Touch me,” Reid breathed, bracing himself on the counter, head bowed, lips parted.

Morgan undid his slacks and eased them down, then slipped his hand beneath the waistband
of Reid’s boxers. His fingers curled around Reid’s length—already hard, already slick. He
stroked him slowly, carefully. A tremble ran through Reid’s legs.

Morgan shoved down his own sweatpants, desperate for contact. Reid gasped, instinctively
shifting, pushing back harder, his breath catching in his throat.

“Take me. Take me, Morgan,” Reid said between ragged breaths.

Morgan buried his face in Reid’s shoulder. “No. It’d hurt you without lube.”

“Go get it...” Reid’s voice was raw, pleading.

“Too late, Spencer,” Morgan groaned. “Let me just rub…”

Reid reached back blindly, fingers tangling with Morgan’s. “Then don’t stop.”

He pushed back with each stroke, matching Morgan’s rhythm. Morgan groaned low in his
throat. His free hand gripped Reid’s hip, holding him steady as he ground against the curve of
Reid’s body, rougher now, his arousal caught between them and pulsing. Their skin was hot
and slick where it met. The air was thick with breath, with sound, with need.

They both moaned uncontrollably, bodies moving in sync.

Clooney padded into the kitchen at the sound of voices, tail wagging lazily. He stopped when
he saw them and tilted his head. Reid glanced over, flushed and laughing under his breath.
“It’s okay, Clooney,” he said gently. “We’re just... cooking.”

Clooney eased down onto the floor, and stayed right there—watchful, patient. Just in case
Reid needed him.
The sound of breath and friction filled the kitchen.
Reid’s rhythm faltered, body jerking with each stroke. “I’m close—”

“Let go,” Morgan said against the curve of his neck, voice wrecked. “Come for me, baby.”

Reid came hard, bucking forward, his release spilling over Morgan’s hand. Morgan groaned
and gave one last rough grind before he came too—hips tight against Reid, forehead pressed
between his shoulder blades.

For a moment, they didn’t move. They stayed pressed together, just breathing. The only
sounds were the soft hum of the oven and the beating of their hearts in sync.

Reid turned around and their eyes met. His face instantly went red. Morgan wasn’t far behind
—one look at Reid, shirt undone, flushed skin, hair tousled, and he felt his own cheeks
heating up.

Morgan’s hand was slick with the lingering trace of Reid’s pleasure.

Morgan huffed a soft, shy laugh and pressed a kiss to Reid’s cheek. Reid gave him a bashful
smile in return.

Morgan grabbed the paper towels. “Turn around.”

“I can handle it,” Reid said, trying to reach for them himself.

“Let me,” Morgan said gently. “It’s my mess.”

Reid went even redder.

Clooney, now sensing that whatever had been happening was over, sighed in relief and
padded out of the kitchen.

“It was weird being watched,” Morgan murmured.

“Dogs don’t process sex like we do,” Reid said. “They react to body language, tone, and
heightened emotion—so Clooney probably thought we were either fighting or reenacting a
very dramatic cooking show.”

Morgan laughed, but Reid wasn’t finished. “Although, if he were a dolphin, it might’ve
gotten way weirder. They actually engage in sex for social bonding and can even recognize
intimacy in human interactions. They’ve exhibited—”

“Okay, Dr. Reid,” Morgan cut in. “I love it when your nerd switch flips. Just maybe not while
our pants are still down.”

“Right. Sorry.” Reid said sheepishly, tugging up his pants.

Morgan chuckled and pressed a kiss to his temple, fixing his own clothes. “Let’s finish
cooking. At this rate, Christmas’ll be over before we eat.”
Reid glanced around the kitchen, still a mess of half-prepped ingredients.

“I didn’t know a kitchen could be such a sensual place,” he murmured.

***

Their late dinner was warm and quiet, wrapped in candlelight. Golden flickers danced across
the table as the scent of cinnamon and roasted herbs lingered in the air. The Christmas tree
glowed in the corner, its lights reflected like tiny stars in the windowpanes. Classic carols
played softly in the background, blanketing the room in a velvet hush. Outside, snow
whispered against the glass.

Morgan reached across the table, his fingers brushing Reid’s knuckles. Reid glanced up, and
for a moment, they simply looked at each other—eyes soft, the warmth between them deeper
than candlelight.

Reid’s gaze dropped for a second, then lifted again, brighter this time. “We had a Christmas
dinner like this four years ago.”

Morgan grinned. “Yeah. You were drunk and kissed my ear.”

Reid laughed. “And you went outside to cool off.”

Morgan shook his head, chuckling. “Damn right I did.”

“And the next day, we went to the Christmas Market,” Reid said, his eyes alight with the
memory.

“Undercover,” Morgan added, and they both cracked up.

“That was our excuse for holding hands.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said, his voice softer now, smile lingering as his thumb traced gentle circles
over Reid’s fingers.

Reid grinned. “Let’s have dessert now.”

“Sounds good.” Morgan dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Come on, help me clear.”

They stood together, dishes clinking gently as they carried them to the kitchen. Clooney
trotted after them, tail wagging, loyal and nosy as ever.
 Regret
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 12. It's December 2012.
Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

The snow from yesterday had stopped sometime after midnight. By Sunday morning, the sky
was dull and overcast.

“Morgan, let’s wake up.”

“Mm…”

The warmth between them beneath the blanket was too good to give up. They were both
awake, but neither made a move to leave the comfort they’d found. Instead, they shifted
lazily, melting into each other.

Morgan tangled his legs with Reid’s, pulling him just a little closer.

“Morgan…” Reid said again, but there was no protest in it—only softness.

Instead of pulling away, he pressed his face into Morgan’s shoulder and breathed in the
familiar scent of him, steady and warm.

Morgan ran his fingers slowly through Reid’s soft hair, then kissed his temple—a quiet,
lingering touch full of affection.

Silence.

“What time is it?” Reid murmured.

“I don’t know. Seven… ish?”

“I need to call Maeve.”

Reid finally sat up, rubbing his neck.

“Still using payphones?”

“Yeah. It makes her feel safer.” Reid squinted at the clock. Morgan was right—it was five
minutes past seven.

“Alright.” Morgan pushed back the covers and sat up. “It’s going to be a long drive again.
Let’s get some breakfast.”
Since the near-miss at the restaurant, Reid hadn’t spoken to Maeve, and he was eager to see
how she was doing.

“Windmere Falls?” Morgan asked, checking the list of payphones Garcia had compiled for
Reid.

“No. I already used that one. Next is Maple Run, Maryland—thirty-four miles southeast.
Forty-eight minutes.”

“Out of state now?” Morgan raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “You know you can’t keep doing
this, right?”

“Her paranoia’s actually improving. She’s starting to go out again. Once I’m sure the threat is
gone, the payphones will stop.”

After a forty-five-minute drive, they reached the location—a pedestal-mounted payphone in

the middle of a quiet park.

Morgan waited in the car.

When Reid heard the phone on the other end pick up, he exhaled, relieved.

“Maeve? Hi.” But there was only silence.

“Maeve? Are you there?” His brow furrowed. “Hello?”

Then he heard a voice—masked, low, almost distorted.

“Zug…”

Startled, Reid flinched instinctively.

“…zwang.”

His eyes widened. Faint breathing echoed through the line.

“I’m...I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

The voice came again.

“Zug…zwang.”

The line went dead. The beeping tone rang in his ears.

Reid stood frozen, eyes darting, panic blooming in his chest. His hand trembled as he failed
to hang the receiver properly. It dropped, swinging slowly, creaking.

He stumbled back, heart racing.

Then he ran.

“Morgan!”

“Reid—are you okay?”

“Morgan, help me.”

His chest heaved. Eyes wide. Breath shallow, broken.

“What happened?”

“I think the stalker has her.” His voice cracked. “I think… I think he took her.”

“Reid, I’ll do anything. What do you need me to do?”

“I... I don’t know. I don’t—” Reid shook his head, trembling. “I don’t know.”

Reid looked utterly lost, shaken to his core.

“I’m calling Hotch,” Morgan said. “Let’s head to the BAU.”

In the car, Reid tried to force his mind to focus. He tried to apply his knowledge to the
situation—behavioral patterns of stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds.
Anything.

But all he could think of was what he’d been doing the last two weeks and how stupidly he’d
let this happen to Maeve.

Maeve was taken. While I was too caught up in my own happiness with Morgan.

The past two weeks flashed before his eyes all at once.

Dinner at Rossi’s. The kiss. Their date at the rink. Laughing at Morgan’s dancing. The night
they were so connected, physically and emotionally. The Christmas dinner. Making love in
the kitchen.

I was on top of the world. Even though I hadn’t solved anything about the stalker. Even
though I’d told myself to stay alert when Maeve started going out again, thinking the stalker
might make a move.

The genetic test had come back clear. I got back with Morgan, and I let it all get to my head. I
let my guard slip.

And while I was lost in my happiness, Maeve was taken. If something happens to her… If
anything happens… I’ll never forgive myself.

Amanda’s letter came rushing back.

[You’re going to keep saving lives, Dr. Reid. I know that. It’s who you are. And I admire you
for it. More than I can ever say. So keep going. Keep being the person who changes the world
for people like Adam. For people like me. Goodbye, Dr. Reid.]

I can’t fail her.

I can’t fail Maeve.

Morgan glanced over at Reid. His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of his coat.
His face had drained of color, his eyes flickering too fast, like he couldn’t focus.

“Reid, you need to breathe.”

Morgan reached out, trying to take Reid’s hand gently, but Reid instinctively pulled away.

“Sorry.” Reid’s voice cracked as he covered his face with both hands.

“It’s okay.”

When Morgan and Reid arrived at the BAU, the Sunday office was quiet. Hotch arrived not
long after.

“I got here as quickly as I could. What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you everything,” Reid said, his voice taut with strain.

As Reid began explaining Maeve’s situation, the rest of the team joined them, one after
another.

“What did the voice say to you?” Garcia asked.

“Zugzwang,” Reid replied. “It’s a chess term. It describes the point in a game when a player
realizes he’ll inevitably be checkmated. He has to decide whether to resign or to play through
to the bitter end.”

A silence fell across the room.

“He thinks he’ll get away with it,” Reid added, voice thinning. “And he might.”

His eyes fluttered, unfocused, never meeting anyone’s. His tone cracked as he continued,
almost a whisper.

“Right now I can’t focus on anything. Which makes me the dumbest person In the room.
So...please help me. Help me find her.”

He stood there, shoulders hunched, gaze dropped to the floor, looking lost in a way none of
them were used to seeing.
Hotch scanned the room. “We don’t know if we have a case. So we’ll be working on personal
time. Does anybody wanna leave?”

No one moved.

“Alright,” Hotch said. “Let’s get to work.”

Morgan placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder, but Reid shifted away without a word.

Garcia found her almost immediately.

“Dr. Maeve Donovan. Took a sabbatical from Mendel University ten months ago.” Her
fingers flew over the keyboard. “She scrubbed her credit card history, but—her parents rented
a unit at Briarwood Flats in Arlington a few months back.”

Morgan and JJ rushed to the apartment. The door was ajar—no sign of forced entry. Inside,
the place was empty. A shattered glass bottle lay on the floor, streaked with blood. Long, dark
hair was found near the mess—definitely not Maeve’s.

They called it in.

“The unsub’s a woman,” JJ said. “She must have disguised her voice. Maeve thought the
stalker was a man. That’s why she let her in.”

Reid watched the case unfold piece by piece—so quickly, so precisely—and hated himself
for not involving the team sooner. She kept refusing help, yes, but that shouldn’t have
stopped him. He should’ve known better. Reid felt sick with guilt.

I was the only one who could’ve done something.

His fists clenched at his sides.

He laid everything out for the team. Every voicemail Maeve had received from the stalker.
Every email, every letter—shared in precise chronological order.

“She fits the mold of a classic possessive stalker,” Morgan said.

JJ nodded. “One who craves recognition. Most of her messages say things like, ‘Do you think
you’re better than me?’ It’s a pattern.”

Then Garcia’s voice cut in.

“Guys—someone else was trying to track the stalker. Hired a private investigator.”

“Who?” Reid asked, already standing.

“Bobby Putnam. Maeve’s ex-fiancé.”

Reid blinked at the photo of Bobby and Maeve—not because he was seeing Maeve’s face for
the first time, but because he recognized Bobby.

He was the man Reid had seen at the restaurant. Reid’s instinct had been right—Bobby had
been watching him. He just wasn’t the stalker.
Garcia confirmed it—Bobby appeared in the restaurant’s security footage.

“The abduction happened shortly after that,” Reid said. “Run a background check on Bobby.
Look into anyone connected to Maeve—friends, coworkers, anyone.”

Within minutes, Garcia had more.

“Bobby’s current girlfriend used to work at Mendel University. Name’s Diane Turner. She
worked as a research assistant at Mendel University while Maeve was there. She was one of
internal applicants for PhD that got rejected.”

Reid’s pulse jumped. “That’s it. Maeve turned down her thesis application. Diane fixated on
her. That rejection became obsession.”

JJ frowned. “But is that enough motive? To kill someone over a thesis rejection?”

“It’s not just about the thesis,” Reid snapped. “It’s about recognition. Diane’s a psychopath.
We’ve seen this pattern, JJ.”

“Spence, we need more than theory before we confront her. We need to be sure. People don’t
kill just because they feel like nobodies.”

Reid’s frustration boiled over.

“What did Mark David Chapman say after he shot John Lennon? ‘It was like all of my
nobodyness and all of his somebodyness collided.’ Maeve’s a star in her field. She is
somebody and this bitch is a nobody!”

The room went quiet. Morgan and JJ stared at him, stunned.

Morgan kept his voice even, but firm. “Reid, we’re trying to make the right call. If you can’t
keep your emotions in check, step out.”

Reid dropped into his chair and bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

The team searched Diane and Bobby’s apartments and found signs that Bobby had been
abducted too—a shattered bottle, drag marks, blood traces on the floor.

“Reid. Wait.” Morgan grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“Talk to me.”

Reid didn’t look at him. Morgan waited.

“What if she’s already dead?” Reid said quietly.

“She’s not.”

“You can’t say that.”

Morgan stared at him. The fear was all over Reid’s face.

“Reid, come here.”

Morgan reached out, but Reid stepped back. “Don’t.”

Morgan let his arms fall. Reid looked away, guilt crashing in like a wave.

“It’s not fair to you,” he said. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. While all this was happening
to her, I was having the best Christmas of my life—with you. I didn’t even think about
Maeve. Or the stalker. Not once.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Reid, it’s not.”

“It is. I knew about the stalker for three months and I didn’t do anything.”

“JJ and I knew too. None of us saw this coming.”

“I did,” Reid said, his voice shaking. “I actually did.”

Morgan fell quiet.

“She started going out again. Letting her guard down. I knew that was risky. I was planning
to push harder, to get her to let me investigate. But then…”

His voice broke.

“I got the test results. I was so happy to be with you again, I stopped being careful. I forgot to
stay alert.”

“Reid…”

“I even forgot to call her last week.”

“We were working that case in Florida. I got shot. You were distracted.”

None of it seemed to ease Reid’s guilt. Morgan’s chest tightened.

“A couple weeks ago, when we were getting off the phone, she said, ‘Bye, love you.’ Just
like that. ‘Bye, love you.’”
A flicker of surprise crossed Morgan’s face. “You never told me that.”

“I thought it was just a slip.”

“But she said it.”

Reid nodded.

“And being happy with me… makes the guilt worse?”

Reid hesitated, then nodded again. “Yes.”

Morgan let out a breath. “Reid, listen to me. We’re going to find her. We’ll catch the stalker.
Maeve has so much ahead of her. She’ll get through this. And when she does, she’ll have
every chance to find someone who loves her the way she deserves.”

Reid looked up and met Morgan’s eyes. “You really believe that?” he asked.

“Of course. So be strong for her, Reid.”

Garcia called the team. “Diane rented an abandoned loft two weeks ago using a stolen
identity. That’s why it took me a while to find—nothing was in her real name or alias. The
address is 614 Norwood Street, just outside D.C.”

The team pulled up to the building, everyone geared up, ready for entry. Reid dialed Maeve’s
phone, expecting Diane to answer.

But it was Maeve.

“Spencer.”

“Are you okay?” Reid’s voice trembled with relief. She was alive. There was still a chance to
save her.

“She killed Bobby,” Maeve sobbed, sheer horror in her voice.

Reid shut his eyes, trying to steady his nerves. “Can I talk to her?”

“No. But she wants you to come inside. Alone.”

Once the call ended, Hotch turned to Reid. “Reid, I can’t let you be part of this takedown.”

“We don’t have a choice. If I don’t go in, Maeve’s dead. Hotch, I read her thesis—Diane
wants recognition. The kind she thinks Maeve gets. And I can give her that.”

Hotch hesitated, then gave a nod. Reid no longer looked lost. He looked certain.
It was dark inside the loft.

JJ and Morgan took position just outside, ready to move in at the first sign of trouble.

The first thing Reid saw was Bobby’s body. One bullet to the head, still tied to a chair. Reid
exhaled quietly.

Then a voice rang out. “Take off your vest. Drop the gun.”

Reid turned toward the voice. Diane stood there, a gun pressed to Maeve’s head. Maeve was
bound to a chair, trembling. Reid swallowed hard.

Keeping his eyes on Diane, Reid slowly removed his vest and lowered his gun to the ground.
For a fleeting moment, he glanced at Maeve and gave her the faintest smile—barely there,
just enough to reassure her.

Maeve sobbed quietly. Spencer had come. He really came. Risking his life for her. A swell of
gratitude rose in her chest, sharp and breathless—but there was no trace of romance in it. No
room for sentiment. All she wanted was to survive.

Spencer, help me. Please.

Diane motioned for Reid to sit across from Maeve. He obeyed.

“I read your thesis,” Reid said suddenly. Diane flinched, startled by the abruptness. His eyes
were lit with a kind of gleam that almost looked like admiration.

“Honestly,” he said, “I think your work could put you on the same level as Jonas Salk. I’ve
already sent it to the NIH. I arranged for your freedom.”

He spoke fast, like he couldn’t hold back the excitement.

Diane narrowed her eyes. “The federal government doesn’t make deals with people like me.”

“Not true.” Reid leaned forward. “Nazi scientists were recruited for the Manhattan Project.
Mafia bosses go into witness protection all the time.”

Maeve stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t awkward. He wasn’t shy. He was confident,
composed, slipping into a role like it was second nature.

Reid continued, looking Diane straight in the eye, enthusiastic. “If what you offer is valuable
enough, the government will work with you. And what you have is very valuable.”

“Really?” Diane asked, still unsure.

“Really,” Reid said, his voice low, steady, reassuring.

But then—she turned the gun on Maeve again.

“Then I don’t need her anymore.”

“Wait!! Wait—”

Reid tensed. He tried to hold it together, but panic edged into his voice. Diane frowned.

“Kill her, and she won’t have to live with the fact that you’re smarter. Let her live with her
irrelevancy.”

His voice was calm again—but Diane caught it. The tremor. The crack in his armor. The
desperation in his eyes.

“Liar!” she screamed.

“You lied! You just want to save her!”

She pulled the trigger on Reid.

He moved but the bullet struck him in the arm.

Gunfire cracked through the building—JJ and Morgan burst inside. Morgan’s eyes flew to
Reid, checked his wound, then zeroed in on Diane, weapon raised, steady and locked.

But Reid shouted, frantic, “Stay back, Morgan! Stay back!”

He stood between them, blood seeping down his sleeve.

“Diane. Diane.” Reid’s voice was low, coaxing, almost pleading. “Let me take her place. I
lied. I’m the one you want to kill.”

“Reid!” Morgan called out, heart hammering. Was this still part of the plan? He couldn’t tell.
Reid was too deep into it.

“Reid!” he shouted again, louder this time.

But Reid didn’t hear him. His mind had locked onto one thing—saving Maeve. Nothing else
could reach him now.

“Me for her.”

Diane’s face twisted. “You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“You’d die for her?”

“Yes,” Reid whispered, voice stripped bare.

JJ felt the shift in Morgan. JJ flicked her eyes to him, and froze.

Something inside Morgan seemed to shut down. His face had gone pale, drained of all light.
He stared at Reid’s back blankly, like a ghost watching his own death.
“Morgan.”

But she had no time to pull him out of it.

Diane’s expression crumbled into pure despair as she raised the gun to her own head.

Then—one motion. One shot.

In a blink, both Diane and Maeve collapsed. One bullet. It had passed clean through them.

“No!!”

Reid’s shout echoed in the room.

He dropped to his knees, the pain in his wounded arm forgotten.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I'm sorry...”

Reid sobbed uncontrollably, over and over.

 Two Weeks
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 8, Episode 12.

Reid opened the book and read the quote by Thomas Merton again, handwritten on the first
page.

Love is our true destiny.

He sighed. He hadn’t noticed the quote until after Maeve died.

If only he could’ve told her what it really meant. The quote was religious, not romantic.

Merton was a Trappist monk. He spoke of love not as romantic fate between two people, but
as a calling—a destiny in the sense of vocation. To him, love was the fundamental purpose of
human existence.

If only he could’ve told her she still had a lifetime ahead of her to live out that calling. A life
of loving people. A life filled with love.

But she no longer had that chance.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Reid closed the book and set it on the coffee table.

Hotch had given him two weeks off. More like ordered it. Two weeks, minimum. Longer, if
he needed it.

The bullet wound in his arm wasn’t serious. He’d only spent one night in the hospital.

When Morgan visited, Reid told him he needed to be alone for the two weeks. The guilt
wouldn’t let him rest in Morgan’s arms—wouldn’t let him return to his sanctuary.

Morgan didn’t argue. He simply said he understood.

Garcia wanted to visit every day. JJ offered to come by with Henry. But Reid gave them the
same answer. He needed to be alone.

And he missed Morgan.

Every day, he missed him more. But the guilt still outweighed the longing.
So Reid buried himself in books. Trying not to feel.

He didn’t shave. His hair was a mess. He wore the same clothes. The curtains stayed closed.
Books lay scattered across the floor.

A week passed.

Almost every morning around 8 a.m., Garcia or JJ—sometimes both—stopped by before

work.

“Knock twice if you’re conscious,” Garcia would say, as usual.

Reid knocked twice.

He heard JJ’s voice too.

“What did you bring today?” she asked, eyeing the basket in Garcia’s hands.

“Some fruit. And mixed nuts and seeds. I’m trying to think of something that’ll help him feel
better, so I went all Reid-like and did a bunch of research, and it turns out nuts and seeds
have naturally occurring—”

“Garcia,” JJ cut in gently.

“Sorry,” Garcia sighed, then nodded at JJ’s basket. “You?”

“Scones. And Henry’s drawing. He wanted to give it to Spence.” She held it up.

“Oh, how cute. He drew a penguin?”

“It’s Spence.”

Reid couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Garcia asked, her voice soft with concern.

“He will be.” JJ raised her voice just slightly. “And he knows we’re all here for him. No
matter what.”

“Yeah. What she said,” Garcia added, loud enough for Reid to hear.

“Spence, we’ll leave some food here, okay? Knock twice if you heard me.”

Knock knock.

The morning conversations—with the knocking—quickly became their routine.

When they came, Reid sat with his back against the door. So he could knock right away. And
maybe...just to be closer to them. Even through the door, their kindness reached him. He was
grateful.
Garcia missed him. She never wanted to leave right away. Every day, she lingered a little
longer. And every day, she threw more random questions at the door.

“Knock twice if you’re wearing the same underwear since yesterday.”

Knock knock.

“Knock twice if you haven’t showered in three days but still think you’re too cool for
deodorant.”

Silence.

“Knock twice if you ever dreamed about me in a Wonder Woman costume. No judgment.”

Silence.

“Knock twice if you’d let me braid your hair while we watch Doctor Who reruns.”

Silence.

“Come on, Reid,” Garcia huffed.

“Knock twice if you think Data is the superior Starfleet officer, and I won’t fight you on it.”

Knock knock. Garcia grinned.

“Knock twice if you know the Fibonacci sequence past thirty digits.”

Knock knock. Then a third knock, deliberately delayed. Garcia laughed. He probably knows
a hundred.

After a pause, her voice softened.

“Knock twice if today feels even a little better than yesterday.”

A pause. Then two gentle knocks.

“Knock twice if you love me.”

Knock. Knock.

“I love you too, doctor. See you tomorrow.”

***

A few days later, New Year’s Day arrived.

On the morning of January 1st, 2013, it snowed again.

Even though there was no work, Garcia came to Reid’s apartment door.
“Reid, it’s been ten days, and I’m worried about you,” she said. “I get it. You’re sad. You
should be sad. But I’m so worried, it’s impairing my ability to stay positive.”

Silence.

“I need to hear your voice. Please.” She pressed her forehead to the door. “Happy New Year,
Boy Wonder.”

Then—finally—

“Happy New Year, Garcia.”

Garcia gasped and lifted her head. “Reid... how are you?”

“Better. Thanks for coming. And... thanks for the baskets. You know, nuts and seeds contain
magnesium, which helps produce—”

“Serotonin,” Garcia finished, smiling. “The happy-happy-joy-joy chemical.”

“Yeah.” Reid let out a soft scoff.

“Can I get a hug?”

Silence again.

“I came just to see you,” Garcia added, nudging. “In the snow.”

Reid spoke hesitantly. “I’m not in any shape to see anyone. I haven’t even shaved or
showered.”

“It’s okay. Your handsomeness will cancel out the smell and stubble—should balance out to
about a net zero.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I just want to see your face.”

A beat.

“Then... please wait ten minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the door quietly opened. Reid’s slightly embarrassed face peeked out.

Garcia’s eyes welled with tears.

“I missed you, Boy Wonder.”

Reid’s body still carried the faint trace of steam from the hot shower. His hair was damp, and
his face smelled of shaving gel.

“You really showered and shaved just to give me a hug?” she asked, eyes red with emotion.
“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m flattered, doctor.” Garcia grinned through her tears.

“Because you are always beautiful.” Reid said as he wrapped his arms around her. His voice
held nothing but sincerity.

***

That evening, just past nine, the doorbell rang again.

Reid froze.

A moment passed before he stood and crossed the cluttered floor with cautious steps. Some
part of him hoped it was Morgan.

But it wasn’t.

It was Hotch.

Reid blinked in surprise. He rarely saw his boss outside the office. Hotch stood in the
hallway, coat buttoned, his expression unreadable as always—but his eyes were softer than
usual.

“Evening,” Hotch said simply.

Reid stepped aside to let him in.

Hotch glanced around. The apartment was dim. Books were stacked and scattered on the
floor. Cups of tea sat untouched on the coffee table. A shirt lay draped over the couch arm.

Reid didn’t apologize for the mess. Hotch didn’t mention it.

His gaze landed on Reid. He looked cleaner than expected—but pale, drawn, and exhausted.

“How are you doing?” Hotch asked, lowering himself onto the couch with the quiet patience
of someone who had no intention of rushing.

Reid gave a half shrug and settled into the smaller couch. “I’m... okay.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then Hotch said, quietly, “What happened to Maeve... it wasn’t your fault.”

Reid let out a short breath. “Yeah. I know.”

Hotch didn’t look away. “You’re not responsible for what the unsub did.”

Reid’s eyes stayed fixed on the floor. “I know.”

“Reid. I know you have regrets. You feel like you failed her. But it wasn’t your
responsibility.”

“I know, Hotch.”

Hotch studied him—eyes piercing, but warm.

Reid’s fingers curled tighter around the hem of his sleeve. “I know,” he said again, barely
audible.

Hotch rose and stepped closer, lowering himself onto the coffee table right in front of Reid.

Then, gently, he placed a hand on Reid’s cheek. The contact startled him. Reid looked up.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hotch repeated, quiet but firm.

“Reid. It wasn’t your fault.”

Something cracked.

Reid’s lips trembled. His face contorted—and then it broke.

“It was!” he cried, voice raw. “It was my fault, Hotch! It was! It was!”

He crumbled.

Reid covered his face and sobbed violently, shoulders shaking.

“I should have—I should have done something—I knew—why didn’t I—why—”

His sobs rose like waves breaking through a dam. Harsh, loud, and raw.

Hotch didn’t move. He stayed close, a steady presence while Reid unraveled.

“It was my fault. It was my fault,” Reid repeated, voice breaking.

The tears came harder, messier. He buried his face in his hands and wept.

Hotch waited. His gaze unwavering, full of quiet compassion.

Finally, the storm began to pass.

The room fell quiet, save for Reid’s jagged, exhausted breaths.

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice was low and grounding. “You think guilt is a form of justice. But it’s
not. It’s a weight that stops you from honoring the person you lost.”

Reid’s eyes widened slightly.

“Don’t keep her chained to your guilt. Let her go.”

The words landed. They hit the part of him that needed to hear it most. He drew a breath—his
first true breath in days.

There was a pause.

Reid nodded. Then wiped at his face. Tear-streaked and pale, he still looked wrecked—but
lighter. Emptied. Freed.

Hotch’s tone softened. “You have a place to go back to.”

Reid saw Morgan in his mind—safe, warm, impossibly dear. Reid’s heart ached with relief.

Reid nodded again.

***

It was Sunday. Exactly two weeks had passed.

Reid called Hotch that morning. He was ready to return to work on Monday.

He showered, shaved, and tidied his room. Opened the window to let in fresh air. A symbolic
reset.

Morgan should’ve been waiting for today. He must’ve been counting the days. Maybe he’d
even show up.

Reid waited, restless.

He was ready to go back to his sanctuary. His home.

But by noon, there was still no call. No text. No knock.

Anxiety crept in.

He did laundry. Cleaned a little more. Checked his phone too often.

By twilight, after five, the silence lingered.

Reid sat on the couch, brows furrowed. Come to think of it, Morgan being completely quiet
for two whole weeks... wasn’t like him. Not at all.

Yes, Reid had told him to stay away. But Morgan—the Morgan he knew—would’ve called
anyway. Would’ve hovered, worried. Annoyingly protective. Loud in his love.

But at the hospital, when Reid had told him he needed space—

“I understand,” Morgan had said, gently stroking his hand.

He’d looked sad. But he didn’t argue.

And—Reid swallowed hard—there’d been something else in his face.

Relief.

Reid hadn’t noticed it then. But remembering now, it was there. A flicker of relief.

Why?

His heart pounded. Something was wrong.

He forced himself to remember the moment he’d been avoiding—the moment Maeve was
shot.

Where had Morgan been?

When Reid dropped to his knees, sobbing… When Hotch placed a steady hand on his
shoulder… When the paramedics arrived… When they led him to the ambulance—

Morgan hadn’t been at his side.

Why?

Reid searched his memory again, frame by frame.

After the gunshot, Morgan and JJ had burst into the room. He remembered them behind him.

And after that?

Maeve was shot. Reid dropped to his knees, crying. Morgan was still standing dehind. Not
moving.

When the paramedics guided him to the ambulance, Reid met Morgan’s eyes—just for a
moment.

Morgan was watching him. Grief-stricken. Like Reid was the one who had died.

And then—

Morgan looked away.

The memory hit like a blow. Reid went cold.

Why?

Morgan would’ve run to him. Held him tight. Refused to let go. Tried to shield him from
everything. That’s who he was.

This—this wasn’t him.

Panic flared.

Where’s my phone?
He had to ask him. He had to know.

Why didn’t you come to me?

Why did you look away?
Why haven’t you called?

His vision blurred as he fumbled for his phone, overwhelmed by confusion and dread.

Then—

A knock.

Soft. Familiar. He knew that sound.

Morgan.
 Not Perfect
Chapter Notes

This story is set after the events of Season 8, Episode 12. It's January 2013.

Reid yanked the door open, breath catching in his throat. And there stood Morgan.

“Reid?”

Morgan looked startled, thrown by Reid’s urgency.

Reid froze. He stared like Morgan wasn’t real.

Tentatively, Morgan stepped forward and drew him into a hug.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Reid didn’t answer. He stood stiffly in Morgan’s arms, guarded. Then, slowly, he wrapped his
own arms around Morgan’s back and held on.

He had known this embrace for six years. His body remembered every detail — the heat of
his palms, the way he always spread his fingers at the base of Reid’s spine, the exact distance
between their faces, the steady press of chest to chest.

It used to be fierce. Unshaken. Nothing held back.

But now it wasn’t the same. The embrace was tentative. Gentle, but not in the way that
comforted — in the way that hesitated. The pressure of Morgan’s arms felt cautious, not
protective. Like he was afraid to hold on too tight.

Reid pulled back just enough to see his face. Morgan wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Morgan... What is it?”

“What is what?” Morgan asked, his hand drifting uncertainly down Reid’s back, his eyes
fixed somewhere on the floor.

“What is it?” Reid repeated, frustration creeping in. When Morgan didn’t answer, he pushed
at his chest.

Morgan’s jaw clenched. He let out a long, defeated breath.

Then he stepped back, released Reid, and sank onto the sofa. Elbows on his knees, head
bowed. Silent.
“Why won’t you look at me?” Reid’s stomach turned. His whole body was starting to feel
sick.

“Morgan... say something.”

Morgan didn’t.

Reid sat down beside him.

“Please. Say something.” His voice cracked. His heart ached so sharply it blurred his vision.

“Morgan.”

Morgan closed his eyes. Exhaled. “Spencer...”

Reid braced instinctively.

“You don’t love me anymore?” he asked, voice splintering mid-sentence.

“I love you,” Morgan said, quietly. Then he looked up, straight into Reid’s eyes.

“But I don’t think you love me.”

“What?” Reid blinked, stunned. The words barely made sense.

“You were willing to die. Right in front of me.”

Reid’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His tears stopped. His mind went blank.

“I... I didn’t. I—”

He faltered. Words failed.

“Morgan. I love you,” he said at last. It was the only thing he could say with certainty.

Morgan shook his head. “If you did, you wouldn’t have done that.”

“Morgan, I do love you.”

“You can’t be that cruel to someone you love,” Morgan’s tone was quiet, but the anguish
underneath cracked through.

Reid’s eyes flickered, and suddenly the memory rushed back — what he had said, what he
had offered.

“You were going to let me watch you die,” Morgan said. “Willingly. You knew I was there.”

“Morgan—”

“You were okay with me watching your brains get blown out.”
Reid flinched. “I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t—”

“That would’ve destroyed me.”

Reid’s breath came in shallow gasps. He finally felt the enormity of it. What he’d almost
done.

“You were okay with leaving me behind. Forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Reid whispered. “Morgan, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t care about me.”

“I do. I do. I’m sorry.” Reid broke, his shoulders trembling as he sobbed.

Morgan grimaced. Despite everything, he couldn’t stand seeing him cry. He pulled him into a
hug.

Silence fell — heavy and suffocating.

“Reid... I’m sorry too.”

“Why?”

“Because I lied.” Morgan’s voice broke. “I said I loved you without fear. That wasn’t true.”

Reid couldn’t look at him.

“When you offered to die like that... there was nothing in me but fear. All-consuming fear.”

Morgan’s shoulders trembled. His eyes brimmed.

“And I’m still scared. Terrified of losing you.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “There’s no fear in love, right? Maybe I... I don’t know how
to love you the right way. I’m sorry.”

Reid buried his face in Morgan’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to say. Dread pooled in his
chest. The damage felt irreversible.

“What do we do now?” he asked, voice small.

“I don’t know,” Morgan whispered.

They just sat there. Holding each other. Broken. Uncertain. Neither ready to let go, but
neither sure how to stay.

***

Morning.
Reid lay in the quiet cradle of Morgan’s arms.
Nothing between them had been resolved, but they were still together.

He let his fingers brush against Morgan’s arms and exhaled, slow and silent.

He could tell Morgan was awake too by the rhythm of Morgan’s breath and the thrum of his
heart against his back.

“Good morning,” Reid whispered.

“Good morning,” Morgan murmured in reply, his arms drawing him in just a little closer.

Reid closed his eyes.

Maybe if they stayed like this—if they kept holding on, morning after morning—the cracks
would start to close. Maybe, in time, they’d find their way back to the place where smiles
came easily, kisses were shared without hesitation, and their limbs tangled not out of
desperation, but peace.
Maybe.

Even if that world felt far away now.

Reid rose slowly. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“I could cook something,” Morgan offered, sitting up with him.

“There’s nothing in the fridge,” Reid replied. “But I have fruit and banana bread JJ and
Garcia brought.”

They sat at the table, sharing breakfast in silence.

Morgan watched Reid, the slump of his shoulders, the way he picked at his food. His eyes
were still red and swollen from last night’s tears—and it pierced through Morgan like glass.

Without a word, he stood, crossed the room, and retrieved an ice pack from the freezer. He
returned and gently placed it in Reid’s hand.

“Your eyes... they’re still swollen.”

“Thanks.” Reid pressed it softly against his face.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” The words scraped against Morgan’s throat. The ache behind
them deepened.

Reid had always been the one he vowed to protect.

And now they were both sitting in the aftermath—bruised, shaken, and carrying the damage
they never meant to cause.

How had they ended up hurting each other so badly, when all they’d ever wanted was to love
and protect?
“Do you think you’ll be okay going back to work today?” Morgan asked gently.

Reid nodded.

***

Returning to work after two weeks felt surprisingly comforting.

The presence of familiar faces—JJ, Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, Alex—was a quiet relief.
They welcomed him warmly, and even the relentless pace of new cases and the chaos they
brought helped breathe energy back into Reid’s spirit.

At the office, things between him and Morgan felt... normal.

The week passed in a blur, and by Saturday morning, Reid found himself at Morgan’s house
again—for the first time in a while.

“What do you want to do?” Morgan asked.

Reid dropped his gaze.

Neither a romantic date nor an active, brotherly outing felt right for them anymore—not now.

“I don’t know…” Reid mumbled, letting the words trail off into silence.

“Should we talk?” Morgan asked hesitantly.

But Reid gave a small shake of his head.

Words wouldn’t fix anything. He knew—too well—that there was no undoing what he had
done.

“Let’s go to the forest,” Reid said, still not meeting Morgan’s eyes.

“The forest?” Morgan raised his brows, then softened his voice. “You wanna listen to the
Ninth?”

“No. A real forest. I want to walk with you.”

Morgan smiled, gentle. “I’d like that.” Then he pulled out his phone. “How far do you wanna
go?”

“We can go to Rock Creek.”

“Rock Creek? It’s in the middle of D.C. You really think it’s gonna feel forest enough?”

“It is a real forest, Morgan. Geologically and ecologically. The park was established in 1890
to preserve the natural landscape. The creek carved that valley over thousands of years. There
are native trees that have been standing for centuries, and—”

“Alright, alright, I get it, professor.” Morgan raised his hands in surrender, grinning.
***

After a fifteen-minute drive, they arrived at Rock Creek Park.

To Morgan’s surprise, the forest felt real—authentic. It was hushed in that winter way, like
the trees were holding their breath. Crisp, brittle leaves crackled underfoot, and the distant
hum of the city was muffled by the frost-hardened earth.

Morgan had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

“I’ll admit—it’s quieter than I thought. Kinda eerie.”

Reid turned with an unapologetic smirk. “Told you it was a real forest.”

“But not exactly the vibe of the third movement, is it?” Morgan said. “In my head, it was
always green. Wildflowers. Fresh and warm spring. Birds and rabbits.”

Reid smiled faintly. “Rabbits?”

“Yeah.” Morgan grinned. “The little black rabbit and the little white rabbit, eating
dandelions.”

Reid didn’t answer right away. His sneakers crunched over frozen leaves, scattering echoes
through the leafless woods.

“The third movement is a green forest for me, too,” he said, thoughtful. “But winter forest is
not so far off. It’s about serenity. Stillness.” He paused. “...Restoration.”

Morgan gazed at him—at his profile, the soft mist rising each time he exhaled.

They kept walking. Quiet now. Air fogging between them, shoes scuffing. Just the two of
them and the trees.

Then Reid stopped abruptly.

Morgan tensed. “What?”

Reid pointed slowly to a patch of brambles. “Rabbit.”

Morgan leaned in, squinting. “Really? Where?”

“There,” Reid whispered reverently. “Sylvilagus floridanus. Eastern cottontail. See the ears?”

Morgan didn’t see anything until a brown blur suddenly darted from the underbrush.

Reid gasped like he’d just seen a unicorn. “Did you see it?!”

“You almost jumped higher than the rabbit,” Morgan grinned.

“I wasn’t scared,” Reid huffed, adjusting his scarf. “I was... startled.”

Morgan snorted. “That your excuse every time you flinch at a squirrel?”

Reid scrunched his nose, and Morgan laughed. The sound came easily. Warm. But beneath
the warmth, something throbbed in his chest.

Morgan offered his hand.

Reid took it. Hesitantly.

The third movement began playing in Reid’s head, soft and familiar. It helped him not to
think. Just the music. And the warmth of Morgan’s hand.

Morgan stole a glance at Reid’s profile and instinctively tightened his grip. A surge of
affection swept through him, fierce and aching. His whole body was screaming. I love him.

And he wished he were stronger.

Even now, holding Reid’s hand, the fear crept in—quiet but relentless.

Even last night. A memory had returned like a blade. Reid’s voice in the dark hotel room in
Las Vegas, when they were investigating his father’s possible involvement in the Riley
Jenkins case.

“I want to die,” he had said. “I want to die. As part of my atonement to Riley. It still won’t be
enough.”

Morgan had cried as he pulled Reid into his chest, repeating over and over, “Don’t say that.
Please, don’t say that.” But Reid had been unresponsive.

Now, walking through the forest, hand in hand, Morgan realized the fear of losing him had
always been there.

And when it had come so close, it had paralyzed him. He hadn’t supported Reid the way he
should have. Worse—he had added to the pain.

He knew Reid needed him now.

But all he could do was wrestle with his own fear.

Morgan lowered his eyes to the path. Frost crackled beneath his boots.

He had lost his confidence.

***

“Boys, boys...”

Emily sighed, her voice exasperated but a little amused.

“Why are your problems always so... helplessly romantic?”

Morgan rubbed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You want to love Reid perfectly, but you can’t. Derek, come on. Just breathe.”

“Emily. I’m struggling.”

“Of course you are.”

Her voice softened, but Morgan could still hear the smile behind it.

He let out a scoff. “Okay... maybe I was being intense.”

“You two have a very deep bond. Soul-deep. And you both treat it like something sacred.”

He nodded slowly, voice quiet.

“We do.”

“And you think that because it’s sacred, it has to be flawless. But it doesn’t.”

Morgan didn’t respond. It hit too close.

“Reid was reckless. He wasn't thinking straight. He made a mistake. Just forgive him,
Derek.”

“I’m not mad at him.”

“Yes, you are. You think he failed to love you right.”

Morgan’s throat tightened. His voice barely made it out.

“I failed to love him too.”

“Derek.” For the first time, Emily’s voice cut sharper.

“You mentioned First John. ‘Perfect love drives out fear.’ That’s not about us. That’s divine
love. We can’t live up to that.”

“I want to.”

“I know. But you’re human. So is he.”

A sigh crackled through the line.

“I know what you have with Reid is very special. But maybe you’re asking too much from
it.”

Emily breathed. Her next words came slowly.

“We want love to be dazzling, beautiful, flawless. But we screw up. We act from fear. From
pain. We make mistakes. We break each other’s hearts.”

Morgan fell silent, her words sinking in.

“But maybe that’s exactly why it’s worth it — because it’s not perfect. Reid hurt you. And
now you’re scared. But that’s okay. Just love him with everything you’ve got.”

Tears slipped down Morgan’s face. Relief. The soft ache of acceptance.

“Let it be imperfect. Love him anyway.”

***

The knock came just after midnight.

Morgan’s face was wet. His eyes—soft, full of love—found Reid’s. No hesitation. No fear.
Nothing held back.

Reid just stared at him, already overwhelmed.

Morgan stepped closer, pausing to breathe before he spoke.

“Reid…” His voice was low. Reverent.

With no trace of doubt, and with all the humility in the world, he asked—

“It’s not perfect love… but may I still love you?”

Reid blinked. Tears came instantly—helpless, unstoppable.

He nodded. “Yes.” Then again, through a trembling breath. “Yes.”

And then they fell into each other.

Morgan pulled him in like a promise. Reid held on like it was the first breath he’d taken.

They wrapped around each other, tight enough to forget the world. Tight enough to forget to
breathe.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Morgan whispered against his shoulder.

“I love you too.”

They breathed each other in. They breathed in love.

Not perfect. But real.

And finally, theirs again.
 Winter Getaway (1)
Chapter Notes

It's February 2013. Reid is 31, Morgan is 39.

The drive out of D.C. was quiet, but comfortable. Morgan kept one hand on the wheel, the
other resting lightly on Reid’s knee—just enough to say I’m here. He was careful not to let it
drift higher, and Reid noticed. Still, every time the car shifted or Morgan’s fingers moved
even slightly, Reid felt a jolt. His nerves tightened.

Eventually, Morgan picked up on it. Without a word, he lifted his hand and returned it to the
wheel, eyes steady on the road.

Reid glanced over. Morgan’s profile in the sunlight, sunglasses on, focused and calm—it
made something soft stir in Reid’s chest. He leaned in and brushed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek.
Warm. Quick. A little shaky.

Morgan’s shoulders twitched in surprise. He turned slightly, offering Reid a shy smile from
behind his glasses.

It was already mid-February. They were headed to Shenandoah Valley for a three-day
getaway. Not far from Washington, but far enough. A quiet retreat. A private cabin in the
woods.

“It’s been a roller coaster for us since last summer,” Morgan had told Hotch.

Hotch had simply said, “Go.”

With a small, reassuring smile.

***

A few days earlier, when Garcia heard about their trip, her eyes lit up. They were all in the
briefing room, waiting for Hotch and Strauss.

“Hold it,” she said, eyes narrowing with gleeful suspicion. “Did I just hear that you two are
vanishing for three entire days in a secluded cabin in the Shenandoah Valley… on Valentine’s
Day?”

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan smirked, casually twirling a pen between his fingers, leaning back in
his chair. Unbothered.

Reid kept his eyes on the case file, pretending to read.

Garcia leaned forward, eyes wide with mock conspiracy.

“Let me paint the picture: a roaring fireplace, Reid in a fluffy sweater reading poetry, you
chopping wood like some kind of romantic lumberjack—”

“Fluffy sweater?” Reid interrupted, frowning slightly, but Garcia steamrolled ahead.

“—and then bam! Shirtless snowball fights, hot chocolate kisses, and a very suspicious lack
of cell signal.”

Morgan shot a glance at JJ and Rossi, silently pleading for backup. They just smirked.

“You.” Garcia pointed at Morgan, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t even try to play innocent,
Derek Morgan. You’ve got that ‘I’m packing massage oil—and not just for my shoulders’
look. I know that look!”

Then she turned on Reid, who was already turning red.

“And you, Dr. Spencer Scandalpants Reid, don’t think for a second I believe this is all about
‘nature and stargazing.’ You’re bringing that worn copy of Neruda’s love poems and at least
one set of silk pajamas, aren’t you?”

Before Reid could respond, the door opened.

Hotch and Strauss entered.

Garcia leapt to her feet so fast her chair skidded several feet back—stopping directly in front
of Strauss.

Strauss frowned.

Hotch gave Garcia a tired, knowing look.

***

After an hour and a half on the road, the landscape began to change. The highway curled
gently along the ridge, revealing sweeping views of the Shenandoah Valley below.

Pale afternoon light draped the slopes in a soft, silvery glow. Rolling hills stretched out in
every direction, painted in subdued greens and muted golds. Quiet vineyards blanketed the
lower valleys like patchwork, their bare rows catching the low winter sun. Here and there,
barns and grazing animals dotted the fields.

“Goats and vineyards,” Reid murmured, leaning against the window. “Did you know the
average yield for a well-managed vineyard is about three to five tons of grapes per acre?
That’s around 160 gallons of wine per ton—so conservatively, nearly 800 bottles per acre.
Though that depends on cropping ratio and the sugar content at harvest—”

“Are you already planning our retirement on a vineyard with animals?” Morgan cut in,
amused.
Reid snorted, then glanced over at him. “As long as you’re the one feeding the goats at six
a.m. I’ll be in the cellar, stressing over pH levels and fermentation curves.”

Morgan chuckled, eyes on the road, but his smile lingered.

***

They pulled up to the private cabin in Stanley just after three. Tucked among tall trees, the
cabin stood quiet and still, smoke curling from the chimney.

Inside, the space felt rustic with a quiet, romantic charm—stone fireplace, wide-planked
wood floors, large windows framing the mountains, and comfortable sofas upholstered in
classic plaid flannel. A thick woven rug with earthy tones lay beneath the seating area, adding
warmth to the cozy cabin atmosphere.

Reid stepped in first and turned in a slow circle, taking in the warm wood, the fireplace, and
the soft light pouring through the windows.

“This is... perfect,” he said quietly, eyes wide with wonder.

Morgan followed, glancing around with a slow grin. “Okay, this looks way better than the
photos online. I thought they were exaggerating.”

Then Reid’s voice shot up, startled with joy.

“Sweet! They have a Breville Barista Express!”

He dropped his bag halfway to the kitchen and beelined toward the counter. “They even have
locally roasted beans.” He turned around, eyes wide, holding up the bag like he’d found
buried treasure.

Morgan laughed, stepping in behind him. “You’re gonna make out with the espresso machine
before me, aren’t you?” He wrapped his arms around Reid’s waist and pressed a kiss to his
temple. Reid blushed. Morgan’s chest felt fizzy with happiness.

They wandered through the cabin, exploring room by room like kids in a dollhouse. Upstairs,
Reid paused at a cozy nook with built-in bookshelves. His eyes lit up.

“I’m claiming this spot,” he said, already picturing himself curled up with a blanket and tea.

Morgan peeked into the lofted bedroom. “I call dibs on the giant bed,” he said with a grin,
dramatically flopping onto it. “But I guess I’ll let you in.”

Outside, the air was sharp but not bitter. They strolled the clearing behind the cabin, boots
crunching over frost-hardened ground. The trees stood tall and bare, and the mountains faded
blue in the distance.

Morgan pointed to a trail marker tucked at the edge of the woods. “The forest is calling us
again.”
Reid laughed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “Do you want me to tell you the
probability of seeing rabbits again?”

“Nah, it’s alright.”

Back inside, cheeks pink from the cold, they finally turned to the kitchen.

It was charming but unfamiliar. Morgan crouched down, rifling through drawers. “Why do
they have four whisks and no measuring cups?” he called.

Reid peered into the fridge. “We’ll eyeball it. I’m surprisingly good at that.”

Morgan eyed an oversized chopping knife with mild distrust but managed to slice the garlic
just fine.

Reid kept discovering ingredients hidden in mismatched, mislabeled cabinets—finally

finding olive oil in a section marked “Tea.”

Somehow, amid the chaos and substitutions, the kitchen began to smell like something
actually delicious. When they finally sat down to eat their pasta—candles lit, Reid’s bare foot
nudging Morgan’s under the table—they were both warm, laughing, and more than a little
proud.

“After this, let’s have coffee,” Reid said eagerly.

Morgan grinned. “Sure. We can try latte art.”

***

Steam hissed softly as Reid focused, tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth. He tilted
the milk pitcher with exaggerated care, pouring the white foam into Morgan’s mug.

The foam slipped sideways, landing in a shapeless blob. He stared at it, defeated.

Morgan leaned in, laughing. “That does not look like a heart.”

Reid handed him the cup with a shrug. “It’s modern art. You just don’t get it.”

“A caffeine-based existential crisis?” Morgan teased.

“Exactly.” Reid laughed.

Then it was Morgan’s turn. Reid watched, arms folded, pretending not to be impressed.
Morgan tilted the cup just right, gave one confident pour, and somehow shaped a perfect,
smooth-edged heart.

He nudged the mug toward Reid with a satisfied smile. “Do I win?”

“I wasn’t competing,” Reid muttered, sulking as he took the cup.

Morgan chuckled and leaned against the counter beside him, shoulder brushing his. He
pressed a kiss to Reid’s cheek just as Reid took a sip, foam still clinging to his smile.

With their coffee, they settled on the rug by the fireplace, backs leaning against the sofa and a
couple of cushions tucked behind them. Reid opened his book, long legs crossed at the
ankles.

Morgan draped an arm over Reid’s shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Reid’s arm,
stealing glances at the man he adored. The firelight danced against Reid’s profile, catching
the soft curve of his lashes as he turned a page.

When Reid finally looked up, their eyes met. The quiet between them deepened, heavy with
meaning.

Reid tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to Morgan’s lips. His own parted, just a little,
an unspoken invitation. Morgan leaned in slowly, as if drawn by a tide. Their lips met—slow
and warm, with the sound of snow falling outside.

The kiss deepened gradually. A slow slide of lips, the heat building in the space between
them.

Reid’s breath caught when Morgan’s hand settled on his thigh, fingers curling gently. Reid
hummed low in his throat.

When they finally parted, Reid’s lashes lowered shyly, then lifted again. “Wanna touch me?”
he whispered.

“Yeah,” Morgan breathed, voice trembling.

His hand moved carefully, brushing along the waistband of Reid’s lounge pants, eyes meeting
his again for consent. Reid nodded, lips parted, his breath coming soft and steady.

Morgan eased the fabric down, revealing Reid’s arousal in the firelight. Reid turned his face
away, cheeks flushed with quiet embarrassment.

“You okay?” Morgan asked gently, his palm resting low on Reid’s belly.

“Yeah,” Reid whispered. “I want to touch you too.”

Morgan smiled shyly and nodded. He sat back enough to slide his own sweats and briefs
down, revealing himself—hard and flushed. Reid’s breath hitched at the sight.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, hands uncertain.

Reid reached first, fingers brushing along Morgan’s length with hesitant care. Morgan
exhaled, mirroring the touch, wrapping his hand gently around Reid.
The first few strokes were tentative. Reid let out a soft, breathless laugh against Morgan’s
mouth, nervous but giddy. Morgan chuckled too, forehead resting against Reid’s.

Then another kiss—deeper, but still tender. Morgan’s tongue swept softly into Reid’s mouth.
Reid moaned.

Their kisses grew hungrier as the pace of their hands began to shift—more fluid, more sure.
Reid moaned softly, hips twitching into Morgan’s grip. Morgan’s breathing grew uneven.
Their foreheads bumped. Fingers trembled.

“Does it feel good?” Morgan murmured against Reid’s jaw.

Reid couldn’t answer. He was too far gone.

Morgan flushed. “You’re so sexy, Spencer.”

Reid closed his eyes at the sound of his name like that. He kissed Morgan again, trying to
keep it slow, even as the sensation curled hot in his belly.

“Morgan,” he gasped. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” Morgan said, voice rough.

Their hands moved faster now. They locked eyes as pleasure crested. Morgan moaned, Reid’s
name slipping from his lips just as they both reached the edge—bodies jolting, clinging to
each other as release washed through them.

For a few long moments, there was only the sound of their breathing—uneven, soft, and
shared. Their bodies stayed close, foreheads resting together, arms still wrapped around each
other as warmth and quiet washed over them.

They sat close, catching their breath. Reid laughed softly, burying his face in Morgan’s
shoulder. Morgan ran a hand through his hair, still trembling a little.

“You okay?” he asked, kissing Reid’s temple.

Reid nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Better than okay.”

They cleaned up slowly, exchanging shy smiles and soft glances, wiping each other gently
with tissues from a nearby box. Morgan helped pull up Reid’s pants first, then his own,
before tugging him close again.

They curled up together on the rug, fingers intertwined. The fire crackled beside them, snow
still drifting past the windows.

“I still feel embarrassed after sex,” Reid whispered. “Is that normal?”
Morgan gave a quiet laugh. “I do too.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Reid’s ear. “Only
with you.”

Reid smiled and rested his head on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan kissed his temple again.

They stayed like that for a while. Then Morgan shifted, gently pulling Reid down with him to
lie on the rug. He reached for a cushion to tuck beneath their heads.

Reid curled into his side easily, one leg draped over his, head nestled under Morgan’s chin.

Morgan gathered him close with a protective arm across his back, his fingers tracing slow
circles along Reid’s spine through the fabric of his shirt.

“Warm enough?”

“Mm-hmm,” Reid murmured. He sounded half-asleep already. “You smell good.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“I never knew I could love someone like this.”

Morgan’s voice cracked just a little. “Me too.”

Reid whispered, “I’m in love with you... hopelessly.”

Morgan held him tighter. “Spencer, me too.”

Reid didn’t say anything else, but his arm wrapped tighter around Morgan’s waist. His
breathing slowed. Every once in a while, Morgan felt his eyelashes flutter against his neck.

Outside, the snow kept falling—silent and steady. Inside, the fire crackled in a quiet hush,
wrapping the room in golden warmth.
 Winter Getaway (2)

Reid woke to the scent of pinewood smoke and the weight of another body wrapped around
his. It took a moment to orient himself—the unfamiliar creak of the cabin settling, the soft
wool blankets tucked high around his shoulders, and the slow, steady rhythm of Morgan’s
breath against the back of his neck.

He blinked his eyes open.

The fire had burned low, leaving faintly glowing embers. Morning light, gray-blue and dim,
filtered through frost-streaked windows, painting the room in soft shadows.

His body was stiff. They’d slept on the rug. He wanted to stretch, but he was caught in a full-
body lock.

Morgan’s leg was slung over his hip, anchoring him. His chest pressed to Reid’s back, one
arm looped tight around Reid’s waist like he had no intention of letting go.

“Morgan…”

Reid wriggled, trying to free himself.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Morgan murmured, tightening his grip. “It’s Valentine’s Day,
pretty boy. We’ve got a whole lazy morning ahead.”

“Morgan, let go.” Reid pushed harder, clearly not in the mood. “We didn’t shower last night.
Didn’t even brush our teeth.”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Reid huffed, finally freeing himself and getting up.

“You were sleeping so peacefully.”

But Reid was already slipping out of the blankets and heading for the bathroom.

Morgan groaned, suddenly deprived of warmth, and dragged himself up to rekindle the fire.

Twenty minutes later, Reid emerged, freshly showered and toweling his hair dry. He tossed
the towel aside, the bathrobe hanging loosely, cinched only at the waist. Damp skin peeked
out as he padded barefoot up the steps to the loft.

Down in the kitchen, Morgan glanced over his shoulder from the stove. “Hey. Where you
going?”

Reid didn’t pause. “Just trying out the big bed. We’re only here two nights. I missed it last
night.”
“Trying it out? Without me?”

Morgan quickly turned off the burner, left the spatula in the pan, and wiped his hands on a
towel as he called up, “Wait for me.”

Reid’s voice drifted down. “I’m only lying down for ten minutes.”

“That’s ten minutes too long without me.”

Morgan took the stairs two at a time.

At the top, Reid was already sprawled across the bed, limbs stretched wide like he was
claiming it all for himself. The robe had ridden up just a little too high on his thighs. He
grinned when he saw Morgan.

“No room for you,” Reid said, extending his arms and legs dramatically. “I have quite long
limbs.”

“Shut up.” Morgan was already on the bed, straddling him.

Reid squealed with laughter. “You’re heavy!”

“You like it.”

Reid smirked. “Maybe.”

Morgan looked down at him. And he swallowed.

“I want to see what’s under this robe.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “You already know.”

“I still wanna see.” Morgan’s voice dropped low.

His hands moved to the sash, “Can I?”

Reid nodded, cheeks flushing.

Morgan loosened the sash slowly, parting the robe like it was something sacred. His gaze
wandered over Reid’s chest, the smooth lines of his body, the soft dip of his waist. Desire
curled tight in his chest.

Reid shifted under his gaze, self-conscious. “Stop staring.”

“I can’t.” Morgan brushed his fingers lightly down Reid’s torso. “You’re… beautiful.”

Reid sucked in a breath as those fingers circled his hip, then curved gently up to his ribs. His
body arched toward the touch, helpless.

Morgan bent to kiss along his collarbone, down his chest. He took his time—tasting,
savoring. He felt the tremble in Reid’s thighs as he moved lower, kissing until there was
nowhere else to go.

When he took him into his mouth, it was slow, tender, devoted. Each movement was careful,
meant to bring pleasure. He could feel Reid’s breath stutter above him, hear the soft, broken
sound of his name.

Fingers twisted in the sheets as the heat built. Reid couldn’t hold it back. With a gasp and a
full-body shudder, he came—eyes closed, lips parted, surrendering everything.

Morgan lingered, pressing his lips to the soft skin just below Reid’s navel. He listened to the
slowing heartbeat, felt the twitch of oversensitive nerves.

Reid’s hand moved, brushing Morgan’s jaw with slow affection.

Morgan climbed back up, gliding over him until they were face to face. He didn’t roll off—he
wanted to stay, to keep Reid tucked beneath him, held in the weight and warmth of his body.
Reid’s arms slid around his shoulders, drawing him closer.

They lay there in silence, easy and close.

Reid trailed his fingers around Morgan’s ear and kissed the side of his face. He felt how hard
Morgan still was, how patient—holding back for him. That patience made something deep in
Reid ache.

He slid his hands down to Morgan’s hips and pressed against him, offering quiet permission.
Morgan responded with a kiss to his shoulder and a slow grind, their rhythm reigniting with
heat between them. Reid felt himself already rising again.

“Take off your clothes, Morgan,” Reid whispered.

Morgan did.

Reid arched into the heat of him, bare and hot, the direct contact drawing low sounds from
both of them. Reid’s lips brushed Morgan’s jar as he whispered, “Do you wanna come inside
me?”

Morgan nodded, pulse thudding.

He reached down between them, hands sliding along Reid’s thighs as he kissed him again—
deeper now. Reid’s legs parted easily for him. Every move was slow, unhurried. No rush, no
frenzy—just skin against skin, breath syncing.

And when Morgan finally entered him—after lube, after care, after asking again if he was
ready—Reid wrapped arms and legs around him and whispered something into his ear that
wasn’t quite words, just want.

They moved together. Like it was about knowing each other in the quietest, most private way.

Morgan kissed every part of him he could reach. Reid’s fingers gripped at his back, his
shoulders, like he didn’t want to let him go. And Morgan didn’t want to be anywhere else but
inside him, with him.

When they came, it wasn’t loud. Just shared breath and the gentle tremble of limbs. Morgan
stayed inside him after, resting his forehead against Reid’s.

Neither of them spoke.

Eventually, Morgan whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Reid smiled against his skin. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

They stayed tangled up for a while longer, letting the scent of sex, pinewood, and half-cooked
pancakes waft around the room, sunlight painting the sheets with gold.

***

By midday, the world outside had turned crystal-bright—sunlight glinting off snow-dusted
trees, every branch rimmed in frost like lace. They bundled up, grabbed wraps and coffee
from a café, and headed to Shenandoah Ranch for horseback riding.

The horses were already saddled when they arrived, clouds of breath curling from their
nostrils in the chilly air. Reid hesitated, clearly intimidated by the majestic creatures. Morgan,
on the other hand, approached with calm confidence.

“Y’all ready?” the trail guide asked, handing off the reins.

“Yeah,” Morgan said, voice low and smooth as he stepped up to his horse. He didn’t hesitate
—just planted one boot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle in one clean,
powerful motion.

Reid blinked.

Morgan adjusted the reins and sat tall in the saddle like he was born to it—back straight,
shoulders relaxed, thighs steady and sure around the horse.

He gave the reins a gentle pull, backing the horse a step. “You good to get on, Reid?”

Reid’s attempt was considerably less graceful. It involved a moment of hesitation, a worried
glance at the saddle, and a half-stumble that earned a snort from his horse.

Morgan guided his horse into a smooth trot, then glanced over at the trail guide. “Mind if I let
him run for a minute?”

The guide gave a nod. “Go ahead, just stay along the path.”

With a quick nudge and a low murmur, Morgan urged the horse into a canter, then a gallop—
controlled and powerful. He leaned into the motion, posture easy. Dust kicked up behind
them as they raced down the trail, wind tugging at his jacket.
When he finally slowed and circled back, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, Reid was watching
him with open admiration.

Morgan grinned. “Falling for me all over again?”

Reid scrunched his nose, clearly unable to deny it. Morgan laughed.

“You doing okay?”

“My horse is making independent decisions,” Reid muttered, adjusting his grip like it might
help. “I read about basic rein commands, but it’s ignoring all of them.”

The horse snorted, then gave a sudden sidestep that nearly unseated him. Reid yelped,
clutching the saddle horn.

Morgan laughed. “Need me to come rescue you?”

Reid narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have you know I am a highly capable FBI agent and—whoa,
okay, it’s turning—why is it turning—”

His horse veered off the trail toward a patch of grass.

“I warned you, man,” Morgan said, effortlessly turning his own horse back toward him.
“They know when you’re scared.”

“Equus ferus caballus,” Reid muttered darkly, trying to steer the horse back. “Domesticated
over 5,000 years ago, primarily for transportation and agriculture, yet still an unpredictable
herd animal with a strong prey response and—”

Morgan reached over and steadied Reid’s reins with one hand.

“You’re giving a lecture while nearly falling off?”

“Distraction technique,” Reid said through gritted teeth. “If I keep talking, I won’t scream.”

Eventually, the trail evened out and so did Reid’s grip on the reins. His horse, perhaps pitying
him, fell into a lazy walk.

They rode back to the stables and dismounted. Reid let out an exaggerated groan as he
stretched, looking visibly relieved.

“I’m never letting you talk me into riding again,” he muttered, voice dry.

Morgan smirked, “C’mon, you looked good up there. Natural cowboy.”

Reid squinted at him. “Yeah, well, horseback riding isn’t exactly ideal after... certain
activities.”

Morgan stopped mid-step, eyes widening.

Reid kept walking, the small smirk tugging at his mouth. “Too much bouncing for the pelvic
floor muscles.”

“Wait—oh my God.” Morgan caught up. “Wait. Reid. Are you hurt… there?”

Reid turned toward him, startled by the concern in his voice. “What? No, Morgan, I was just
teasing—”

“You’re actually sore?” Morgan asked, voice dropping.

“I’m not actually sore,” Reid flushed, embarrassed now. “It was just a little uncomfortable.
That’s all.”

“I’m so sorry,” Morgan said, genuinely distressed. “I was inconsiderate.”

He pulled Reid into a hug, one hand instinctively sliding lower in an attempt to soothe him.

Reid gasped when Morgan’s fingers brushed just beneath his tailbone. Reid quickly swatted
his hand away, his face now fully red. “Stop! You are not rubbing my butt in public!”

“...Sorry.” Morgan looked so guilty that Reid couldn’t help but chuckle. He smiled and
squished Morgan’s cheeks between both hands.

***

They drove along Skyline Drive toward a vineyard, the road winding ahead like a ribbon
stitched through the mountains. White-blue vistas stretched endlessly on either side.

Reid rested his forehead against the passenger window, watching the landscape roll past.

As the elevation climbed, the view opened into a sweeping panorama—snowy hills and
leafless forests undulating like frozen waves. They pulled off at an overlook, stepped into the
crisp air, and stood together at the edge of the stone wall.

“You look at peace,” Morgan said softly, watching Reid’s profile.

“I am,” Reid replied, his voice calm. He turned toward Morgan. “You look at peace too.”

“I am.” Morgan slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his temple.

For a while, they stood in silence, listening to the wind and the faint crunch of tires on distant
snow.

Then Reid’s gaze shifted toward the far side of the overlook.

A trio of teenage boys lingered near a trail sign, glancing between their phones and one
another, fingers moving in rapid bursts of conversation. They were signing—and clearly lost.

“They’re Deaf,” Reid said quietly, already stepping forward.

He approached them casually, hands tucked in his pockets before lifting them to sign. His
gestures were fluid and quick, expression animated. The boys beamed, and they eagerly
turned the phone toward him. Reid scanned the map, then launched into explanation—
pointing, signing directions, adjusting the phone’s settings to show an alternate route.

Morgan hung back, watching with quiet admiration. Reid looked completely at ease—bright-
eyed and warm, laughing with the teens as their conversation shifted to something lighter.
When they glanced over at Morgan, Reid signed something that made all three smirk.

One of the boys replied with exaggerated flair. Reid flushed faintly, swatted the air, then
laughed again. They waved as they walked off, calling out “Thank you!” in a mix of voices
and signs.

Reid returned to Morgan’s side, cheeks still a little pink from the interaction.

“Impressive,” Morgan said. “I didn’t realize you were that fluent in ASL.”

Reid raised an eyebrow. “You’re a Supervisory Special Agent and you’re not?”

“I know a little,” Morgan said, sheepish.

Reid tilted his head. “Alright, go ahead. Say something.”

Morgan turned to him and signed, carefully: “I’m D-e-r-e-k.” Then, “I. Love. You.”

Reid scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he signed back, fingers flying:

“Multilingual skills aren’t just impressive, they’re essential. Sometimes the difference
between a closed case and a cold one is knowing the right language at the right moment.”

Morgan nodded as if he understood and responded, signing: “What is your name?” Then, “I
like sandwiches.” And once more: “I love you.”

Reid laughed and looked away, pretending his heart hadn’t just flipped. Morgan was such a
dork—and completely endearing.

***

The sun was sinking behind the hills outside, its last light filtering through the windows of
the vineyard’s private dining room.

Inside, string lights hung overhead in gentle loops. The fire crackled softly in the stone
hearth, its warmth dancing along the walls. It smelled faintly of oak and wine barrels.

Reid’s wine glass sat beside his plate, the red catching the light. Their table was set simply
but elegantly—roasted duck with seasonal vegetables, wild rice, and warm rolls with herb
butter.

Across from him, Morgan looked completely at ease, his smile soft and quiet, shoulders
relaxed.
Reid swirled his glass thoughtfully. “You could drink, you know. I don’t need to. I can drive
us back to the cabin.”

Morgan smiled, warm and easy. “It’s okay. I figured I’d grab a small bottle on the way out—
save it for later tonight.”

Reid returned the smile and took a slow sip.

They ate quietly, the soft murmur of nearby conversations and the gentle clink of cutlery
wrapping them in a kind of hush. The fire popped occasionally, the air full of warmth and
wine.

After dinner, they lingered at the table, gazing out at the dusky landscape beyond the
windows. Blue shadows crept across the hills.

“Peaceful,” Morgan said softly.

“It is.” Reid smiled, then added in a quieter voice, “But what gives me the most peace is
knowing that…”

He paused, gathering his thoughts, then looked up at Morgan.

“Once this trip ends, we’ll still be ours.”

Morgan felt a warm swell in his chest as he reached out and gently clasped Reid’s hand.

They didn’t need words—the quiet between them was full and comforting.

After a moment, Morgan’s voice took on a teasing edge. “The trip won’t be over until we’ve
soaked in the hot tub.”

“And stargazed,” Reid added.

“Although,” Morgan grinned, “I might be mostly gazing at you.”

They exchanged smirks, like a little secret just between them.

 Winter Getaway (3)

Morgan lifted the hot tub cover and grinned. It was already warm.

The tub sat nestled on the back deck, steaming gently in the cold mountain air. Beyond the
railing, the Blue Ridge Mountains blurred into the darkening horizon, dusted with a recent
powder of snow.

Morgan set out a bottle of wine, two glasses, and towels on the deck bench. Reid appeared
behind him.

“Wait. We have to check the temperature first.”

Morgan dipped a hand into the water. “Feels perfect.”

Reid crouched by the digital control panel like he was defusing a bomb. “Do you know the
ideal temperature for prolonged hydrotherapy exposure in cold ambient conditions?”

“I don’t wanna know.”

Reid didn’t hear him—or chose not to. “The average hot tub is set to 102 degrees Fahrenheit.
That’s 38.8°C. But considering it’s currently 36°F outside, with a wind chill that drops it
closer to 30, the thermal exchange rate between your skin and the surrounding air becomes a
factor.”

Morgan sighed through his nose. “Reid, let’s just get in.”

“And if your skin temperature drops too low for too long, your body restricts blood flow to
the extremities. But there’s this weird rebound effect called hypothermic vasodilation—”

Morgan tuned him out, stripped, and slid into the tub with a groan. “Oh yeah. Heaven.” The
rambling faded—for a few blissful seconds.

“Your body basically gives up keeping the blood in your core and floods your skin again. It
makes you feel warm even though you’re still losing heat. It’s one reason people with severe
hypothermia sometimes start undressing right before they pass out. It’s called paradoxical
undressing, and it’s—”

Morgan stared at him, expression flat. Just waiting.

Reid finally noticed.

He sulked. “If we’re going to get married, you’ll have to get used to me rambling.”

“Trust me. I’m used to it.”

“Well, you’ll have to like it.”

Morgan scoffed, fond exasperation softening his face. “I like your rambling. Occasionally.”

Reid glanced at the laugh lines around Morgan’s eyes and couldn’t stay sulky.

“Come on, genius. Get in.” Morgan said.

Reid stripped and stepped carefully into the water. Morgan reached for his hand.

“See? Didn’t even die of thermal mismanagement.”

Reid flashed a smug little smile, “You know, your body’s going to go through three
thermoregulatory stages now. First the skin vasodilates, then—”

Morgan groaned and let his head fall back. “Lord, give me strength.”

Steam curled around their shoulders, stars scattered thick across the black sky. The air was
bitingly cold, but the water swaddled them in heat. Morgan sat back, arms stretched along the
edge of the tub.

Reid chuckled to himself.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Last time we took a trip, we shared a hot bath too.”

“The beach house,” Morgan said, smiling. “Our one-year anniversary.”

Reid remembered trying to mimic Morgan’s pose in the hot tub—arms spread wide, chest
out, trying to look effortlessly masculine like him. Morgan hadn’t noticed a thing.

So he tried again now, reclining against the edge, spreading his arms wide, chest puffed out
just enough, eyebrows drawn into a determined frown.

“Do I look manly?”

“What?” Morgan turned, confused and amused.

“Am I masculine?”

Morgan scoffed, trying to figure out what Reid was doing.

“Yes, you are,” he offered, hoping it was the right answer.

Reid’s eyes lit up with childlike delight before he gave a wide smile. Morgan chuckled,
shaking his head. Reid’s quirks never stopped being oddly endearing.

Satisfied, Reid leaned closer.

His hand found Morgan’s and laced their fingers together. His fingers were still cold;
Morgan’s were warm. They fit anyway.

Then they kissed—slow and familiar. Morgan’s other hand slid behind Reid’s neck, fingers
slipping into the soft, damp waves of his hair.

As they pulled apart, Morgan cradled Reid’s face in both hands. His thumbs moved slowly,
brushing over his cheekbones. Then he kissed Reid’s cheek—once, then again. So gentle. So
full of care.

Reid whispered, “You always touch me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like... you’re trying to memorize me.”

Morgan’s voice dropped, “Maybe I am.”

Reid smiled. After a few moments of silence, he looked up. “Sky’s clear.”

Morgan followed his gaze.

“You ever notice how Orion’s belt points down to Sirius?” Reid asked, lifting a hand to point.
His wet skin glistened in the moonlight. “Brightest star in the night sky. It’s part of Canis
Major.”

“Which one’s Sirius again?”

Reid shifted, his body brushing against Morgan’s side, arm grazing his chest as he leaned
forward and pointed again. “The one flickering blue and white.”

His voice picked up with that familiar rhythm of excitement. “The Greeks said Sirius was the
dog following Orion across the sky. But to the Egyptians, its rising meant the Nile was about
to flood. Life coming out of destruction.”

Morgan rested his chin on Reid’s shoulder, lips grazing damp skin. “Do you ever stop
knowing things?”

Reid’s brows lifted, but before he could reply, Morgan’s hand slid beneath the water, wrapped
around his waist, and pulled him close.

Reid inhaled sharply, hands finding Morgan’s shoulders, fingers curling into warm muscle.
Then he moved—slowly—swinging one leg over to settle in Morgan’s lap, facing him.

“Tell me another,” Morgan murmured, lips brushing Reid’s neck.

Reid’s voice was a little breathier now. “Perseus. He rescued Andromeda. But there’s a
lesser-known myth...”

Morgan’s lips found the curve of his shoulder, tasting salt and steam.
“Morgan…” Reid’s voice cracked—half a warning, half a plea.

Morgan pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

They kissed again. Deeper now.

Their bodies moved together beneath the water, friction sparking in every slow shift of hips
and hands. Heat rose from the water, from their skin, from the look Morgan gave him.

Reid’s back arched as Morgan’s hands traveled slowly down Reid’s back, fingers following
the line of his spine like a path he knew by heart—lower, then lower, until they reached that
sensitive spot.

He touched it gently, teasing but never entering. Reid’s breath hitched, his face flushed.
When Morgan’s hand returned to his waist, the firm grip revealed just how much he was
holding back.

Reid moaned softly, chest to chest now, desperate for friction. One hand clung to Morgan’s
shoulder, the other curled around the edge of the tub like he needed something solid to hold
onto. Their movements turned rougher, more urgent. Morgan groaned, hands firm on Reid’s
hips.

“Derek,” Reid gasped, voice breaking into a breathless moan. “Are you comfortable releasing
approximately 400 million cells into a small, enclosed body of water?”

Morgan’s hips stilled for half a second. Then he let out a stunned laugh against Reid’s neck.

“Spencer. Seriously? Now?”

“I mean,” Reid panted, “technically, chlorine can neutralize some—oh—God—” His thighs
tensed, back arching again as Morgan shifted, hitting just the right rhythm.

They didn’t last much longer. Their bodies moved in desperate sync, pleasure cresting fast
and sharp. Morgan stiffened beneath him, a low groan caught in his throat as his hands
clenched at Reid’s waist. Reid came seconds later, pleasure snapping through him like a jolt,
a strangled sound breaking from his lips as he pressed in close.

For a moment, everything stilled. Water rippled gently around them. Steam blurred the stars
overhead.

Then Reid, still panting, muttered against Morgan’s collarbone, “This water now has a higher
cellular concentration than some biology lab samples.”

Morgan’s chest shook with quiet laughter, still catching his breath. “We should probably
evacuate the hot tub.”

“Yeah,” Reid said—but he wasn’t moving. His arms draped lazily over Morgan’s shoulders,
perfectly content.

Morgan buried a laugh in Reid’s hair and tightened his arms around him. “You’re weird.”
“I get that a lot.”

Reid let himself melt against him, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat, still strong beneath the
calm.

“Thanks for loving all of me,” he murmured.

Morgan kissed the side of his head, slow and steady. “I’ve always loved all of you. Even the
one that quotes sperm counts mid-orgasm.”

Reid gave a small huff of laughter, eyes closing.

***

They lay in the quiet warmth of the loft bed—exhausted, content, completely at ease beside
each other.

“I can still see stars,” Reid whispered. “All over the ceiling.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Orion and Canis Major?”

“I can see galaxies too.” Reid’s sleepy eyes twinkled faintly in the dark.

“Messier 31,” he murmured, pointing at the ceiling. “About 2.5 million light-years away. And
just below it—Messier 110, its satellite galaxy.”

His voice came slower than usual, each word drawn out like he was too comfortable to hurry.

“And if you follow the arc here—” he waved a lazy hand overhead, “—you’d land in the
Perseus Cluster. Roughly a thousand galaxies, all held together in one gravitational system.
About 240 million light-years out. Give or take.”

“Show me where Orion is first,” Morgan said, “I want to see what you’re seeing.”

“Here.” Reid pointed toward a blank patch of ceiling and traced the invisible shape of the
hunter.

“And Perseus would be northeast—right about there, near Andromeda.”

Morgan lifted his own arm, mimicking Reid’s gesture. “That cluster?” he asked, poking at
thin air.

“No,” Reid chuckled. “That’s Cassiopeia. You’re a bit too high. Try just—” He reached over
and gently guided Morgan’s wrist a few inches. “There.”

They lay there like that, in the quiet dark, pointing at constellations that weren’t there—
grinning, correcting, pretending. Their arms brushed occasionally as they reached for the
same imaginary star. The ceiling became a sky, and between them, a universe unfolded in soft
murmurs and the occasional laugh.

“Where is Cygnus?” Morgan asked.

“It’s gone this time of year—sets early. But it would’ve been back there.” Reid pointed
toward the wall behind them. “Tail near that corner. Wings spread, flying down.”

Morgan hummed and pulled Reid into his arms.

“Why Cygnus?” Reid asked.

Morgan kissed him softly instead of answering.

--Did you find the swan, Morgan? Do you see the wings? Is it flying?--

Six years ago, Reid’s fragile voice had broken Morgan’s heart. That night at South Point Boat
Ramp, during the worst of his Dilaudid addiction, he’d looked so pale. So breakable. Like
Cygnus with a shattered wing.

But he’d made it through. He overcame the addiction—and more. The years had tested him,
changed him. And he’d become stronger than ever.

Morgan’s chest filled with admiration and quiet awe.

“You’ve got strong wings now, Spencer.”

Reid didn’t respond right away. He didn’t understand what Morgan meant. But he nestled
into Morgan’s shoulder, content.

“If you ever lose them again,” Morgan murmured, hand warm on Reid’s back, “I’ll give you
mine.”

Reid’s voice was soft and a little puzzled, muffled against Morgan’s chest. “That doesn’t
make sense. Humans don’t have the anatomical structure for flight. No coracoids. No keeled
sternum. I’ve never had wings, Morgan. Neither have you.”

Morgan laughed softly, amused and full of love.

***

“I’ll miss this place,” Reid said the next morning as he packed his bag. Still, Morgan could
see the hint of excitement in his eyes—Reid was ready to return to work. Morgan smiled.

“We can come back. It’s only a two-hour drive from D.C.”

Outside, the air was crisp and bit at their cheeks, but it felt good—clean and bracing.

Rested and recharged, they climbed into the car. The road stretched ahead, quiet and silver in
the cold morning light, a thin crust of frost clinging to the shoulders.
***

They stopped at a rural gas station in a small Virginia town. Reid went inside to grab snacks
while Morgan stayed out to pump gas.

The tank clicked full. Morgan returned the nozzle with a clang.

Through the dusty window, he spotted Reid at the counter, paying for whatever he’d found.

Morgan smirked, wondering what Reid had picked. He was still deep in the Chex Mix phase
—but specifically Honey Nut, the kind with vanilla breadsticks and swirly cookies. Rare to
find in rural gas stations.

Then.

Out of the blue.

A shot rang out.

A single, sharp crack that split the quiet like lightning. Morgan’s instincts hit before thought
could catch up — he bolted toward the entrance, heart jackhammering.

Inside, a man was shouting—fifties maybe, wild-eyed, shaking. He looked disoriented,

cornered, dangerous.

A gun waved in his hand, trembling as it swept between the terrified clerk and a shot
customer slumped by the coolers. Blood smeared the floor in sick red arcs.

Reid was crouched low beside the wounded man, one palm pressed against the bleeding leg,
his other hand raised, voice calm.

“—No one else needs to get hurt. Put down the gun. Let me help you.”

Reid was almost certain the man was in the midst of a psychotic episode—possibly
substance-induced.

Morgan didn’t speak. He stepped in quietly, assessing. Reid flicked his eyes toward him—a
glance, a split-second—and Morgan understood.

Neither of them carried a weapon. No badge. Just years of training.

Reid softened his voice further.

“You’re overstimulated. Heart racing. Hands shaking. That’s adrenaline—it’s tricking you
into thinking this is your only way out.”

The man’s eyes darted. Reid stayed steady.

“But it’s not. You don’t want to pull that trigger because you’re not a killer. Let it go. Just put
it down, okay?”
His grip on the gun faltered—

That was all Morgan needed.

He moved in a blur — one second behind the aisle, the next launching forward. He ducked
the muzzle and slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, pinning him to the floor with
practiced force. The gun skittered across the tiles. Reid was already moving, scooping up the
gun and racking the slide to eject the chambered round.

“Clear,” he said, exhaling.

Morgan sat back on his heels, breathing hard, holding the man’s arms behind him firmly.
“Call 911,” he told the clerk.

Reid turned back to the wounded man. “You’re okay. Help’s coming.” Then he looked up at
Morgan. “He needs gauze.”

“Check behind the counter.” Morgan said, “Most places keep a kit.”

The gunman didn’t speak, just turned his face to the floor and started to cry. Quietly. Like a
switch had flipped.

Sirens wailed outside. Two cruisers skidded to a halt, tires crunching gravel. Doors slammed,
boots pounded—closing in fast.

“Sheriff’s Department!” a voice shouted as two officers burst in, guns drawn.

Morgan raised both hands slowly. “Gun’s over there. Suspect’s down. He’s not resisting.”

The officers blinked, caught between adrenaline and confusion.

One of them, older, looked between Morgan and Reid. “Who the hell are you two?”

“FBI,” Morgan said simply. “Off-duty. Lucky timing.”

Reid didn’t look up. Still crouched beside the wounded man. “Femoral artery’s intact, but
he’s going into shock. You’ll want to get EMS here quick and apply pressure until then.”

The younger deputy holstered his weapon and hurried to Reid’s side. “You a medic?”

“Doctor,” Reid replied, glancing up briefly. “Of a different kind, but close enough today.”

The older officer moved to cuff the suspect, while the clerk finally seemed to remember how
to breathe. She started rambling — something about how fast it happened, how she didn’t
even see the guy come in — but Morgan wasn’t listening anymore.

He was looking at Reid.

Blood speckled the sleeve of Reid’s jacket. His hair was messy, cheek flushed with stress.
But his hands were steady.
Morgan crossed the room. “You good?”

Reid stood as EMTs rushed in. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

They stood together, motionless for a breath, while cold air crept through the open door and
the sirens faded.

The sheriff approached. “Agents. We appreciate the assist. I’ll need a statement when you're
ready.”

“Of course,” Morgan said.

After Morgan gave a formal witness statement, Reid said, “Secure the surveillance footage
and run a trauma response for the clerk. She’s likely in shock.”

The sheriff nodded, “Thank you again for stepping in.” he scratched behind his ear, “I gotta
say, don’t usually get FBI agents stopping armed robberies on their day off.”

Morgan offered a relaxed shrug. “We were just heading home from our vacation in Stanley.”

The sheriff blinked. Then his eyes flicked between them.

“Oh,” the sheriff widened his eyes.

They both looked at him.

“I mean—” he coughed, suddenly fumbling with his notepad. “Not that it’s— I mean— just
didn’t realize you two were, uh—”

Reid smirked, amused. “Together?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem, Sheriff?”

“What? No, no, Lord no!” The sheriff flushed bright red, flustered and waving both hands.
“Just caught me off guard, is all.”

By the time they got back to the car—after changing clothes and shaking hands with the still-
blushing sheriff—it was past lunchtime.

“I’m hungry.” Reid sighed.

“We’ll find something,” Morgan said, smiling.

A beat of silence.

Then Morgan reached across the console and took Reid’s hand, settling it in his lap without a
word. His thumb traced over Reid’s knuckles.

“So much for easing back into the work week,” he said.
“Yeah.” Reid laughed softly—then suddenly gasped. “I forgot my Chex Mix Honey Nut in
the store!”

“They had Honey Nut?”

“They did!”

Reid groaned, slumping into his seat. Morgan laughed, heart light despite everything.
 Photos
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 16-17. Reid is 31, Morgan is
39.

Blue and red lights pulsed against the icy darkness, painting the abandoned lot in waves of
urgency. The end-of-February chill hung sharp in the air, biting with every breath. FBI and
SWAT vans ringed the perimeter, agents in full tactical gear moving with tense precision.
Gravel crunched under heavy boots. The warehouse loomed ahead—silent and hollow.

“The snipers are set and the exits are covered,” a SWAT officer reported as he jogged up to
Hotch and Morgan.

Hotch’s voice was clipped. “Air support?”

“Choppers are standing by.”

Morgan nodded. “Alright, guys. I need you to keep it tight and stay alert. This guy’s got a
vendetta against the BAU. It could be an ambush.”

Then he moved—calm, in control. Dropping into a half-crouch, he cut the air with sharp hand
signals. The team followed, advancing. The warehouse door creaked open with a reluctant
groan.

Inside, it was dark. Flashlights swept wide arcs over crates and concrete. From somewhere
deeper in the building, jazz played—a slow, eerie melody that crawled up the spine.

Morgan signaled. SWAT agents moved in, pushing open the door where the jazz was playing.

They stormed in—guns drawn, eyes sweeping.

The room was dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb. Jazz blared from an old stereo. In the
center of the room, a woman lay motionless on a table, the stereo just inches from her head,
like a sick serenade.

Hotch moved to her side and pressed two fingers to her neck. His jaw tensed. “She’s gone.”

No one spoke. The music played on, like laughter from a ghost.

Morgan’s voice was low, bitter. “I knew it. This was too easy. We’re not hunting him—he’s
pulling the leash.”
The Replicator hadn’t slipped away. He’d wanted them here. This wasn’t a near miss. It was
an invitation.

Flashlights swept the room, pausing on something that made everyone still.

The walls were covered—every inch plastered with photographs. Hundreds of them.

Reid. JJ. Rossi. Alex. Hotch. Morgan.

Image after image, moments frozen in time. Smiles, frowns, fleeting glances. They had been
watched. Tracked. Studied.

A heavy silence settled over the room as each agent took it in, horror slowly sinking in like
cold water. No one moved. No one spoke.

The music kept playing.

***

JJ sat back with a sigh, eyes scanning the round table buried under a sea of printed
photographs spreading out in uneven stacks and scattered clusters.

She reached for another picture, one from the case in Dallas, and slid it into the growing
“Nov 2012” pile. Beside her, Garcia furiously sorted through a handful, lips pursed in
frustration. And still, yet another unopened cardboard box sat on the table.

“Just how many photos are there?” Garcia groaned.

JJ paused, then slipped into a perfect Reid impersonation—complete with hand gestures.
“Well, considering the average weight of a standard 4x6 glossy print is approximately 0.11
ounces, and the box weighed just over 12 pounds not accounting for the cardboard, I’d
estimate... roughly 1,750 photos. Give or take, depending on humidity.”

Garcia burst out laughing. “That was good.” She nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. “That
was really good.”

“Thanks.” JJ grinned. “At least we’re not sorting through gruesome crime scenes. These are
photos of... us.” She lifted one showing herself and Garcia, cheering at a softball game.

Garcia took it and smiled. “Softball game. That was fun.”

They gathered similar photos from the same event and started a new pile, laughing again at
one of Reid leaping onto Morgan’s back mid-celebration.

For a little while, the work continued—sorting, labeling, organizing.

Garcia sighed. “Do you really think there are 1,750 of these?”

“No idea.” JJ shrugged.

Garcia scoffed and picked up another photo—then froze. Her expression shifted instantly, her
eyes going wide. “Oh my God...”

JJ immediately tensed. “What, Garcia?”

“This is... this is the hottest photo my eyeballs have ever been blessed with.”

JJ’s alertness melted into a dry glare. “Another one of Morgan giving a speech at the British
Embassy?”

“No. That one was mediocre compared to this. This is next-level.”

JJ held out a hand. “Let me see.”

Garcia handed it over. JJ blinked. Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected this.

Steam curled through the frame, softening the edges, but nothing could blur the raw intimacy
it captured. In the hot tub, Morgan and Reid were locked in a moment that felt almost too
private to exist on film.

Reid straddled Morgan’s lap, facing him fully. His arms curled around Morgan’s shoulders,
drawing their bare chests together, skin slick and flushed from the heat. Morgan’s hands
rested low on Reid’s waist, just above the water, holding him with a grip that looked both
possessive and tender.

Their faces were close, mouths parted like they were on the edge of a kiss, breath mingling in
the steam. Their eyes were locked, the look between them so intense it felt almost physical. It
was hunger wrapped in love, the kind of gaze that made everything else fall away.

JJ swallowed hard. “This is... very intimate.”

“It can’t be evidence. It can’t,” Garcia said, her voice high and frantic. “Obviously, they’re
communing in the sacred, steamy temple of love.”

“Garcia...”

“I mean, look at them! That’s two grown men marinated in romance and possibly scented
oils!”

“Penelope.”

“I know we’re supposed to be horrified because the unsub took this, and believe me I am, but
also— they look so—so in love. Like the kind of in love that makes you want to cry and
maybe go hug a pillow and rewatch Pride and Prejudice.”

JJ took a breath, steadying her tone. “We need to focus.”

Garcia sighed. “Can I keep it?”

“No. Tampering with evidence is a federal crime. Up to 20 years in prison,” JJ replied,
deadpan.

“Oh yeah…”

They sifted through the pile, eyes scanning for more shots from Morgan and Reid’s
Shenandoah getaway.

They found a few—horseback riding, a lookout over the valley, the two of them walking
hand in hand—but no more hot tub photo.

Garcia flipped through them like a proud mom looking at her kids’ school trip. “That cabin
looks huge. Ooh, they went horseback riding! Look at Reid’s face.”

JJ cleared her throat just as Reid and Morgan walked in.

“How’s the sorting going?” Reid asked, sitting between them. “I was hoping to start piecing
together the unsub’s timeline.”

Morgan sat across from him, already reaching for the photos.

Garcia instinctively flipped the hot tub photo over—just a second too late.

Reid raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Uh... it’s... it’s...” Garcia stammered, eyes darting between the two men. “It’s you guys.”

Morgan glanced over, unconcerned.

Reid, however, picked up on the tension. Judging by Garcia’s expression, this wasn’t another
softball game photo.

“Let me see.” Reid snatched the photo. His eyes hit the image—and everything else seemed
to stop. He blinked once, then again. Color surged to his face, blooming scarlet.

He turned to Morgan with wide, panicked eyes, like someone had just handed them both a
death sentence.

Morgan frowned. “Reid, it’s alright. Everyone knows we’re dating. What could possibly be
—”

He looked at the photo.

The sentence died in his throat. His eyes locked on the image, unblinking.

Slowly, Morgan brought a hand to his mouth and exhaled through his fingers. “Son of a
bitch…” he muttered, shutting his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” JJ said quietly.

“Are there any others?” Morgan asked, his voice tight.

Garcia answered gently, “There are a few more from Shenandoah, but... that’s the only love
sauna moment.”

JJ handed him the rest of the photos. Morgan sifted through them, brows drawn together, jaw
tight.

Garcia leaned in and whispered to Reid, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Reid murmured, still dazed.

Then Garcia lowered her voice further. “So... genius. When exactly was this taken? Was this
a countdown-to-liftoff moment, or are we catching you two floating back down to Earth?”

Reid, completely serious and clearly missing the tone, replied, “That was when I asked
Morgan if he felt comfortable releasing approximately 400 million sperm cells into the hot
tub’s ecosystem.”

Garcia gasped. “Oh my God. Derek Morgan.”

She turned to him in disbelief.

“What? Why me?”

“I never knew that side of you. You get turned on by nerdy science talk!”

“I do not,” Morgan groaned.

Later that day, Morgan reported the intimate photo to Strauss and formally requested that it
be handled on a need-to-know basis, citing concerns about ethical sensitivity and personal
privacy.

That evening, the team reconvened at the round table, photos spread out in front of them once
again.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan said, exhaling hard. “How the hell did he get so
much access? He’s covering every crime scene we’ve worked, every personal event.”

“Maybe he’s a journalist,” Alex suggested. “They’re skilled at obtaining information.”

“Not every crime scene, actually.” Reid looked up from his notes.

“I’ve assembled a timeline of the unsub’s stalking and murder activities.” His voice picked
up speed. “Based on the estimated time of death regarding our amputated replication, the
unsub wasn’t stalking us during the Whitewood-Turner case in Miami, because he was
dumping his victim in New Mexico, yet still back in. D.C. in time to see me hit my game-
winning home run against the Secret Service.”

With a proud smirk, he held up the photo of himself mid-swing.

Morgan and JJ both scoffed.

But Reid’s smirk faltered the moment Strauss entered the room.

“Agent Morgan. Agent Reid,” She cleared her throat and looked at both Morgan and Reid.

“Regarding the private photos taken during your trip,” she began, “they will be treated with
strict discretion to avoid any privacy violations. Access will be limited to the lead
investigative team—this unit only.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Morgan said, letting out a quiet breath of relief.

“Your teammates will still need to review them.”

“I understand.”

Strauss nodded and handed the envelope to Hotch. The hot tub photo was on top. Hotch
widened his eyes slightly but kept his expression neutral, scanning the rest before passing
them along to Rossi and Alex.

Morgan glanced at Reid. He sat rigid, face flushed, blinking rapidly and shifting in his seat
like he wanted to vanish into it.

Watching him, Morgan felt a surge of anger. The photo hadn’t ruined anything for him—what
he shared with Reid was too real for that. But seeing Reid wilt under everyone’s eyes,
flustered and embarrassed, made his stomach turn.

“Hey, Reid.”

Morgan called from across the table, his voice steady and warm.

Everyone looked up. Morgan wasn’t looking at anyone but Reid.

“Every second of that trip was real,” he said. “It was ours. No one can take that from us. And
I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I don’t care if someone was watching. Let the whole damn
world know we’re madly in love.”

He signed, “I. Love. You.” Then grinned, unbothered by the audience.

Reid froze, eyes wide, face flushing an even deeper red as the room turned toward him. For a
moment, he looked like he might shrink into his seat. But then—something shifted.

He straightened. Met Morgan’s eyes across the table. The flush on his cheeks stayed, but it no
longer looked like shame. It looked like pride.

Reid smiled, soft but unshakable, and nodded, signing back. “I love you, too.”

Then both agents calmly returned to scanning the photos, as if nothing had happened.
Garcia pressed a hand to her chest, visibly melting. JJ and Alex exchanged a glance, eyes
warm. Rossi raised an amused eyebrow. Even Strauss and Hotch shared the faintest of smiles
—brief, subtle, but unmistakably there.
 Restoration (1)
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 18. It's March 2013. Reid is
31, Morgan is 39.

The month turned to March.

The Replicator case had gone dormant, leaving the team to tackle the backlog of more urgent
cases that had piled up in its shadow.

Spring had started to slip into D.C.—warmer days, longer light. Even with the steady
onslaught of work, the office had begun to take on a lighter, livelier energy.

But not this morning.

The bullpen felt like a funeral. The air hung heavy and still.

No one spoke. Not even Garcia.

JJ hovered near the coffee machine, stirring her cup long after the sugar had dissolved. Rossi
passed Morgan’s office, glanced inside, and kept walking. No one knew what to say to him.

Morgan sat hunched over an open case file, unmoving. Just flipped pages with the same
tension as someone preparing for war.

When Alex Blake walked in—fresh from her morning lecture, scarf still half-on—she slowed
immediately, sensing the mood. “What’s going on?” she whispered to JJ.

JJ glanced at Morgan, then leaned in. “We’re giving him space.”

Alex raised a brow. “Something happen?”

Rossi appeared beside them, voice low. “They went to the range this morning before work.
Morgan got outshot.”

“By who?”

Rossi answered with a slow, deliberate grin. “Dr. Spencer Reid. Beat him. Ninety-four to
ninety-two.”

Alex gave a thoughtful nod. “Ah.”

“Yep.”
The elevator dinged.

Reid practically floated in. His smile could’ve powered the entire East Coast. His longish hair
bounced with each step, and the room might as well have lit up with cartoon sparkles around
him.

He made a beeline for Morgan’s office.

“Morgan!” he called, peeking inside, voice full of sunshine.

Morgan’s spine stiffened. He didn’t look up.

Reid stepped in anyway, cheerfully oblivious—or perfectly aware. He stopped in front of the
desk—and hopped up onto it like he owned the place.

Still, Morgan didn’t look at him.

“I have something for you,” Reid said brightly.

Morgan finally glanced up, suspicion sharp in his eyes.

Reid dangled a small silver whistle on a lanyard between his fingers.

The exact kind Morgan had given him seven years ago, after Reid had failed his firearms
qualification for the second time.

Reid’s voice turned sweet as he repeated the same line Morgan had once used:

“If you need me,” he said, slipping it over Morgan’s head, “just blow.”

Then, with the most audacious gentleness, he patted Morgan’s cheek.

Across the bullpen, JJ and Garcia gasped. “Uh-oh.”

Rossi smiled into his coffee.

Morgan yanked the whistle off and growled, “It was just two points!”

“But I won,” Reid sang, making a face as smug as a cat who stole the roast. “Admit it.”

Morgan lunged. “Come here, you little—”

Reid squealed and half-fell off the desk as Morgan mock-tackled him.

The two men scuffled like brothers and Reid was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

JJ and Garcia laughed at the sight while Rossi turned away like he was too old for this
nonsense.

Until—

“Morgan. Reid.”
Hotch’s voice sliced through the bullpen like a razor.

They froze mid-wrestle. Morgan had a fistful of Reid’s cardigan. Reid was halfway upside
down.

Hotch stood just inside the bullpen, arms crossed, expression pure FBI. “Professionalism.
Now.”

“Yes, sir,” they muttered in unison, scrambling apart, hastily straightening their clothes.

“I need everybody in the meeting room.”

***

“Two middle-aged men have been killed on the South Side of Chicago in the past ten days.”
Garcia began the briefing.

“Both men were beaten to death with fists of fury. There are no signs of sexual assault,
although all victims had their pants and underwear pulled down to their ankles.”

“So it was a message,” Rossi murmured.

JJ glanced at Morgan. “Isn’t that your old neighborhood? Maybe we should stop by and say
hi to your family.”

Morgan shrugged. “I’m not gonna let anybody know I’m in town. At least not until we’re
done with this. I don’t need any distractions.”

***

Morgan and Reid walked side by side toward the first crime scene—a small convenience
store.

“I have to see Sarah while we’re here,” Reid said. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I was in
town and didn’t tell her.”

“Whose sister is she again?” Morgan chuckled. He knew Sarah and Reid talked on the phone
sometimes.

“Wasn’t the park we just passed where you used to play football?”

“Yes. And the bus stop on the corner? That’s where I played kissy-face with my first
girlfriend.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember your first girlfriend,” Reid said, raising an eyebrow.

Morgan laughed. “Okay, maybe not a girlfriend. More like a childhood sweetheart.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”
Reid snorted, shaking his head. “My first kiss wasn’t until I was sixteen.”

“Okay, stop right there,” Morgan cut in quickly. “I don’t need to be reminded your first kiss
was with Aidan.”

Reid laughed, amused. Then he reached out, gently caught Morgan’s face in both hands, and
kissed him—tender and unhurried, a soft reminder of how much he loved him.

Morgan stilled, then responded without hesitation. Right there in the middle of the street, they
deepened the kiss, unbothered by passing glances.

When they finally broke apart, Morgan put on a mock stern face. “Professionalism. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” Reid chuckled, and they resumed walking.

The convenience store was a mess. Shelves knocked over, goods scattered across the floor.
Blood smeared near the back aisle.

While they examined the scene, Morgan’s phone buzzed. JJ was calling from the other crime
scene with Rossi.

“There’s writing on the dumpster,” she said.

“Writing? What does it say?”

“‘Look up to the sky.’”

Morgan flinched. Reid noticed immediately, his brow furrowing. Morgan was clearly rattled.
He started scanning the store.

“JJ, I gotta go.” He ended the call without waiting for a reply.

“They found something?” Reid asked.

Morgan didn’t answer. His eyes landed on something across the room. Slowly, he stood up
and walked toward it.

“Morgan?” Reid followed. “What is it?”

“Reid...”

Morgan pointed at the wall.

Scrawled in black marker: Look up to the sky

Reid studied the words. “Does that mean something to you?”

Morgan exhaled. “Do you remember my testimony against Buford?”

Reid stiffened at the name. Of course he remembered. He could recite Morgan’s court
transcript word for word—he had memorized it the night Morgan asked him to read it. A
quiet vow to carry that pain with him, always.

“The second time he raped me,” Morgan said, voice low, “he told me…”

“‘You better man up, boy,’” Reid murmured.

Morgan nodded. “Yeah. But there was more. He said, ‘You better man up, boy. Look up to
the sky.’”

Reid stared at him, stunned. “You think the unsub is a survivor of Buford—and he’s killing
these men as surrogates for him?”

Morgan gave a tight nod. “We need to get back to the station. I need to tell everybody.”

“Morgan.” Reid caught his hand. “Are you okay?”

Morgan paused, then turned to face him fully.

“Reid…” he whispered, pulling him into his chest. “Just... stay with me. Please.”

“Always.” Reid wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

***

The team gathered in the Chicago PD conference room.

“I know what this is about,” Morgan began. “This is about Carl Buford.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch’s voice tensed. “Buford’s in prison for life.”

“The phrase ‘look up to the sky’ was found at both the mini-mart and the alley.”

The team fell silent, uncertain where Morgan was headed.

“That’s what Buford said to me.”

Morgan’s voice was low, edged with old pain.

“Carl Buford was an expert...at spotting and exploiting vulnerabilities in adolescent boys that
he coached at the community center. He had the entire community thinking he was a hero.
Parents, teachers, cops...”

The room went still.

“After my dad died, he locked onto me. And he manipulated me into compliant
victimization.”

Morgan stared toward the floor, unfocused.

“He expunged my juvenile criminal record. He taught me football. Spent time with me. Built
my trust.”

Morgan paused and let out a breath.

“One day, Buford took a group of us from the center to his private cabin up by the lake.”

Hotch spoke gently. “Morgan, you don’t have to do this.”

“They need to know, Hotch. They need to know this guy’s M.O.”

Morgan glanced at Reid.

Reid met his eyes—steady, grounding. Just enough to help him keep going.

Morgan drew in a breath and went on.

“He lowered my inhibition with Helgeson wine. Then he raped me.”

Rossi grimaced, quiet rage simmering beneath his calm.

“The second time, it happened in his house. I cried and begged him to stop. But he just said,
“You better man up, boy. Look up to the sky.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about that phrase?” JJ asked softly.

“No.” Morgan shook his head.

Rossi sighed, “We’re probably looking at someone who Buford abused.”

Hotch nodded. “If he never processed the abuse, he could be channeling his rage toward
surrogates—men who remind him of Buford.”

“Where is Buford now?” Alex asked.

“We got him locked up for homicide in 2006,” Morgan answered. “After his arrest, 56 people
came forward—alleged victims like me. But most of them couldn’t bring themselves to
testify. Just me and two other victims stood up in court. But because of the statute of
limitations in Illinois, we couldn’t charge him for the molestation.”

Hotch turned to Morgan, voice steady but urgent. “Have Garcia look into those 55 names.
The rest of us will work the victimology and build the profile.”

Everyone nodded and began to move.

As the team filed out, Morgan lingered. He stepped toward Reid.

Reid rose, and without a word, wrapped his arms around him. Morgan held on tight.

They stayed like that, silent, until Morgan was ready to let go.
***

“Have all the people on this list been cleared?” Hotch asked Garcia over the phone.

“Yes, I went through every name. Nothing popped. They’re all clean.”

Reid turned to him. “Buford ran that community center for years. An offender like him
could’ve had hundreds of victims.”

Hotch nodded. “Garcia, compile a list of all the boys who played football there twenty to
thirty years ago.”

“On it.” Garcia hung up.

After delivering the profile to Chicago PD, Hotch pulled Morgan and JJ aside.

“Morgan, I want JJ to try a cognitive interview with you.”

Morgan hesitated. “Can’t Reid do it?”

“I know you’re more comfortable with Reid,” Hotch said, “but Reid’s protective instinct
might interfere. Try to shield you from certain memories, even subconsciously.”

Morgan sighed and nodded. “Alright.”

JJ raised an eyebrow, teasing. “You don’t trust me?”

Morgan scoffed. “JJ, I taught you how to do a cognitive interview.”

“So I should be pretty damn good at it.”

Morgan chuckled. Hotch left them to it and the room quieted. They settled into their chairs.

“All right, Derek, I just need you to relax,” JJ began in a calm tone. “I need you to think back
to the sights and sounds and smells of playing football.”

The sounds of squishy mud and the sharp tang of earth and sweat flooded Morgan’s senses,
rising up like a wave that pulled him backward through time.

He let out a laugh. “We were some sweaty, dirty, smelly kids back then,” he murmured. “All
we ever wanted to do was to get out there and play the game.”

His breathing slowed as the memory deepened. Rain from earlier that day still clung to the
air, humid and thick. The field behind the community center had turned into a churned-up
mess—slick brown mud swallowed cleats with every step, and every tackle sent up a splash
of filth.

Shouts echoed across the field. The ball squelched every time it hit the ground. The boys
were wild with energy. This was their world.
“Was Buford there?” JJ asked gently.

“Yeah,” Morgan said, eyes still shut, lashes faintly trembling.

“Did you notice any unusual glances or behavior between him and any of the other boys?”

Morgan shook his head, still locked inside the scene. “No. Buford never took his eyes off of
me.”

—Come on, Derek. Focus. Focus.

Buford’s voice cut through the noise of the field. Morgan saw it like it was happening all over
again.

“Did you notice if any of the boys avoided him subtly?”

—Good job, D. That’s my boy.

Buford’s voice again, louder this time. Proud. Too proud. A whistle blew. Morgan jogged
back to the huddle, cheeks flushed, heart pounding. Buford reached out as he passed. A firm
hand clapped his back—lingered just a beat too long.

Morgan flinched.

“Morgan?”

“Nothing.”

He told himself to breathe. But the memories crept in anyway, silent and brutal.

Too clear. Too close.

How Buford groaned and collapsed onto him. How Morgan’s body wracked with
uncontrollable cries. How Buford hugged his body afterwards and whispered: “Good boy,
Derek. You are my best.”

“Morgan, are you okay?”

“JJ, I’m sorry. This isn’t working. I’m done.”

Morgan left the room.

 Restoration (2)
Chapter Notes

This story takes place around the time of Season 8, Episode 18. It's March 2013. Reid is
31, Morgan is 39.

Morgan had reached out to the two men who testified with him back in 2007, while Reid and
JJ visited the newly reopened community center. But no one on the updated list Garcia
compiled stood out.

“Hotch,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “There are over three hundred names here. Tracking
them down could take days—maybe weeks. I need to go see Buford.”

Before Hotch could answer, Reid stepped in. “You’re not going to see Buford.”

“Reid—”

“You’re not,” Reid repeated, his voice sharp. He turned to Hotch. “Hotch, he can’t go.”

Hotch studied Reid for a moment, then looked back at Morgan.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said carefully.

“Hotch, I can handle it. Four people are dead. The unsub’s escalating. We gotta do this now.”

“Morgan, no.”

“Reid, it’s okay. I can do this.”

“Then I’m going with you.” Reid’s expression was firm, resolute.

Hotch looked between them. After a beat, he nodded. “All right. Reid and I will both go with
you.”

Hotch drove the SUV to Menard Correctional Center in Chester, Illinois. Morgan sat silently
in the passenger seat, Reid in the back. No one spoke.

Through the rearview mirror, Hotch glanced at Reid, who had his arms crossed and one leg
bouncing with barely contained agitation. Morgan stared out the window, withdrawn and
quiet.

His thoughts drifted back—seven years ago, the day he finally confronted Buford.
“All these years, I kept my mouth shut,” Morgan had said, his voice low and furious, his face
shadowed by hatred.

Buford looked at him as if he were the one wronged. “Do you have any idea how many kids
I’ve helped get out of this neighborhood? How many lives I’ve provided?” Then he gestured
at Morgan like the proof was obvious.

“Look at you! You’d probably be dead by now.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t for free, was it?” Morgan’s voice had trembled, pain twisting his
features.

“I pulled you out of the gutter.” Buford said, voice thick with self-importance.

Morgan had snapped, “I pulled myself out of the gutter, all the way to the FBI! I did that!!”

His voice had cracked as the words ripped out of him. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His
body shook with shame and rage, like he was breaking open. It was one of the hardest days of
his life—like falling back into the darkest pit.

Now, sitting in the SUV, Morgan felt himself nearly swallowed by the same darkness.

But then—

A flicker of warmth broke through. A memory. That weekend, after Chicago, someone
unexpected had shown up at his door.

Reid.

“Reid. How do you even know where I live?” Morgan had asked, startled.

“I asked Garcia,” Reid had replied simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Nice place,” he said, before Clooney barked and made him jump. Morgan had laughed for
the first time in days.

They’d gone out together, playing pretend boyfriends at the mall. They held hands for the
first time. Shared a scarf. Just pretending—they didn’t even feel shy. Back then, they were
purely just friends.

A quiet laugh escaped Morgan’s lips at the memory. He glanced back at Reid, who sat in the
back like an angry cat, all tense and bristling.

Hotch glanced at Morgan, startled by the soft sound. It was subtle and brief, but genuine
laugh, not sarcasm or bitterness. The warm lines around Morgan’s eyes lingered as he looked
back at Reid.

Then the SUV rolled up to the gate of Menard Correctional.

“Gate open.”
“Gate close.”

The guard’s monotone voice and the harsh groan of metal echoed around them as the gate
slowly creaked shut.

The visitation room was spacious but bleak. Long metal tables with bolted-down chairs lined
the space. Carl Buford sat at the far table, his back to the entrance—the only occupant in the
echoing room.

Morgan approached in silence. Reid followed, and Hotch stayed by the door.

Morgan stepped around the table and turned to face him. Reid stood a few feet back against
the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on them.

Buford looked up and blinked, a flicker of surprise on his face.

“Derek Morgan.” He murmured, as if recalling a dream.

“Of all my boys, you’re the last one that I thought would come back to me.”

Morgan sat slowly, just a meter away. Buford didn’t flinch. He offered a faint, smug grin and
inhaled, as if savoring the moment.

“I never liked it when you started wearing cologne in high school.”

Reid tensed.

“High school boy’s cheap cologne—it always rubbed off on me.” Buford added with mock
distaste.

Morgan ignored it. “Four men have been killed in the old neighborhood. At each crime scene,
the words ‘look up to the sky’ were found. You remember those words, right?”

“I don’t remember,” Buford replied with a bored shrug.

“I know you remember that cabin. And me and every other boy that you took up there
remembers it, too.”

For a moment, Buford’s gaze drifted, distant.

Morgan pulled a pencil from his pocket and placed it on the notepad in front of him.

“I need a list of everyone you’ve victimized.”

Buford’s eyes slid back to Morgan. “You still like mint chocolate-chip ice cream?” he asked,
voice smooth.

“Whenever I see you on TV, I tell everyone, ‘That’s my boy.’ I’m proud of you.”
“I don’t give a damn how you feel.” Morgan’s voice sharpened.

Buford grinned. “Still got that mouth on you, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes. “I always
liked that mouth.”

Buford’s eyes lingered on his mouth. Morgan realized it wasn’t about his words.

The rusty shower room in old community center flashed back. Derek was kneeling between
Buford’s legs, gagging as he tried to take him in. Buford yanked his hair and moved his head.
Derek was fourteen.

A wave of nausea surged. Morgan leaned back instinctively.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice steady. “The U.S. Attorney’s offering immunity.
They won’t charge you with molesting any of the boys on this list as long as this list is
complete.”

He added, “You leave even one name off that list, this deal is dead.”

“Are you threatening me, D?”

Morgan leaned in, his voice low. “See, right now, you’re in here for murder. But what do you
think would happen if the brothers in here learned what you were really guilty of?”

Buford’s smile faltered. The smugness slipped.

“Start writing,” Morgan said, rising.

Buford paused. Then he picked up the pencil and began to write.

“Some are easy to remember. Others fade,” he murmured. Then he looked up. “But no one
was like you. You were always special, Derek.”

Morgan said nothing. Just stared down at him, cold and unreadable.

Buford’s hand picked up speed, name after name filling the page. When he stopped, he set the
pencil down and looked up again.

Morgan reached forward—but Buford slammed his hand on the notepad.

“I’ll give you the list on one condition,” Buford said with a low voice. “All I want is a
handshake. That’s it. A gentleman’s agreement.”

“You are not touching him.”

Reid’s voice rang out sharp and clear.

Buford froze. For the first time, he looked at the slim agent by the wall, taken aback by the
intensity of his gaze.

Morgan half-turned. “Reid, it’s alright,” He said softly.

But Reid stepped forward, eyes never leaving Buford.

“You are not touching him,” Reid said again, now close enough to make it clear.

Morgan reached back, gently brushing Reid’s hand, grounding him. “Reid—”

Buford leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking between them. Then it hit him. A smirk
tugged at his lips.

“Well, well. Derek,” he drawled. “The school’s notorious ladies’ man. You got yourself a
boyfriend?”

Morgan stiffened. Reid’s fingers twitched.

Buford turned fully toward Reid, head tilting. “You know I made him that way, right?” His
smile curled. “I shaped him.”

Reid’s eyes flared. His jaw locked. Morgan saw his fists clench. Morgan stepped in, tugging
Reid’s hand. “Reid, don’t react. Come on—let’s go.”

But Buford kept talking—eyes on Reid, voice low and deliberate.

“He’s good, right? I knew he liked it. His little face flushed when he—”

“Son of a bitch!!”

The next moment, Buford hit the floor with a sickening thud. Reid was on top of him, fists
crashing down. Rage burst out of him like a dam breaking. “I’ll kill you!” Reid roared,
striking again, and again, and again.

“REID!!” Morgan lunged forward. He grabbed Reid’s arm, trying to pull him off, but Reid’s
strength was unreal—supercharged by adrenaline. One sharp elbow caught Morgan in the
ribs, nearly knocking him off balance.

Reid kept punching, eyes wild, knuckles already slick with blood.

“Reid—stop!” Morgan hooked his arms around Reid’s chest in a lock, but Reid thrashed,
possessed by rage. His teeth clenched, his body shaking, breath ragged.

Hotch was already there, voice slicing through the chaos. “Get him out! Out!”

Morgan tightened his grip, dragging him backward. “Reid—come on, come on!” Morgan
dragged him through the door. Reid twisted in his grip, still wild.

The door slammed behind them.

Outside, Reid finally stopped. He sagged forward,

and Morgan let go slowly, staying close. Both of them were panting like they’d run a mile
uphill.
Hotch stormed out seconds later.

“Reid.” His voice cut like ice. “You assaulted a federal prisoner inside a secure facility.”

Reid laughed bitterly. “Yeah. I did.” His expression was cold and defiant. His chest still
heaved.

“You understand what that means?” Hotch snapped. “You could be charged with felony
assault. You could lose your badge.”

Reid didn’t waver. Cold. Unapologetic.

“There’s going to be an internal investigation,” Hotch said. “Effective immediately—hand

over your badge and weapon.”

Reid didn’t hesitate. He unhooked his holster. Removed his badge. Held them out, gaze
steady.

Hotch took them wordlessly, then turned to Morgan. “Take him back to the hotel. I’ll handle
the rest.”

Morgan nodded. Hotch walked off.

The hallway fell silent.

Morgan turned to Reid.

Reid was staring at the floor. His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled, tie askew.

“Reid...” Morgan reached out and wrapped his arms around him.

Reid was still tense. Morgan felt the sweat at his collar. The heat in his skin.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Morgan whispered.

He smoothed Reid’s hair gently.

“I didn’t blow that whistle, you know.” Morgan said, still smoothing his hair.

Reid’s face crumpled. The first sob was silent. Then another. Sound spilled out—raw and
broken—as he buried his face in Morgan’s shoulder, hands slowly clutching his back.

Morgan held him tighter.

Reid cried like a child, breath hitching. “I’ll protect you,” he said between sobs, shoulders
shaking. “I’ll protect you.”

“I know,” Morgan whispered, his own eyes burning. “I know, Reid.”

Morgan pressed his cheek against Reid’s hair.

And he cried, too.
 Restoration (3)

Reid sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at his scraped knuckles. They still tingled with
pain. Until today, he had never punched anyone in his life. It felt surreal.

He knew what he’d done—an FBI agent assaulting a prisoner in federal custody—was
serious. Misconduct. Grounds for suspension, maybe worse. Demotion. Termination.

I might lose my job.

The thought flickered through his mind, but it didn’t stir much emotion. If I lose it, so be it.
There was no regret. He couldn’t have stopped himself anyway.

Reid let himself fall back against the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

Morgan had once told him—back when they’d first started dating—that he’d give up his job
to be with him. He’d said it without hesitation. It had startled Reid. At the time, he wasn’t
sure if he could have done the same.

But now... he would give up everything for Morgan.

JJ had called earlier with an update on the case. After extracting the victim list from Buford,
the rest had moved quickly. They removed the names already cleared, then cross-checked the
remaining ones with the profiles—age, body type, other details. There weren’t many left.

One name rose to the top. Rodney. When the team confronted him, he was agitated. Morgan
told him he was a victim too. Told him to do the right thing—for his son. Rodney listened. He
put down the gun and let Morgan arrest him.

“So it’s over,” Reid said, exhaling.

“Yes,” JJ answered softly.

A pause.

“How’re you feeling, Spence?”

“I’m... feeling okay.”

“I still can’t believe you beat the crap out of Buford. Where were you hiding that power?”

“Well...” His voice lacked its usual spark, the ramble more flat than animated. “A surge of
adrenaline temporarily increases strength by stimulating the beta-adrenergic receptors in the
muscles. It’s called hysterical strength—it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility that I
could throw a few punches.”

“Okay, Dr. Genius,” JJ laughed. “Stay the same old Spencer Reid. We don’t need two
Morgans, you know.”
Reid scoffed.

“Hotch was furious,” JJ added, half-teasing.

“Yeah. I know.” Reid sighed.

Just then, Alex said something to JJ in the background.

“Spence, turn on the TV. I’ll call you back.”

Reid blinked.

He tossed his phone onto the bed and grabbed the remote. The hotel TV flickered to life,
already tuned to breaking news—dozens of reporters clustered behind a police barricade. At
the center stood Morgan and Captain Gordinski, addressing the press.

Cameras clicked wildly. Voices overlapped in a chaotic din. One reporter shouted above the
rest, “You’re saying that’s why Rodney Harris killed those men?”

Gordinski responded, “Yes, that’s what I said.”

Another voice cut in, louder, “So, being abused made him a killer?”

Before Gordinski could speak again, Morgan stepped forward. His jaw tightened—not with
anger, but with steady resolve.

“No. No, it did not,” Morgan said, his voice calm and firm. “The vast majority of child sexual
abuse victims do not grow up to be sex offenders or criminals. I know this because…” He
paused. Took a breath. “I was one of Carl Buford’s victims.”

Reid inhaled sharply.

He hadn’t expected that. Morgan had never opened up about his past publicly—not like this.
Not in front of the world.

But Morgan stood steady, unshaken.

“Victimization does not cause offending,” he continued. “It causes pain. Isolation. Sometimes
anger. Sometimes rage. But it can also lead to connection. To healing.”

His eyes shifted from the reporters to the nearest camera. Now, he was speaking to all the
survivors watching in silence.

“Trauma doesn’t have to define you,” Morgan said. “You don’t have to fight alone. Let
yourself be seen—by someone you love, someone you trust.”

Reid stared at the screen, frozen. His chest tightened, overwhelmed by a swell of pride and
love. Tears rolled down his cheeks before he even noticed. He didn’t wipe them away.

Morgan’s voice softened, but it carried even more weight.

“If you’ve been abused… I was too. But I met someone—someone who loves me, who fights
for me. I’m healing. You can, too.”

***

The press conference had ended, but Reid hadn’t moved. The hotel room was still, the only
sound a low hum from the minibar fridge.

His phone buzzed on the table beside him. When he saw the caller ID—Sarah Morgan—his
heart clenched.

He answered. “Sarah?”

She was crying. He could hear it right away—uneven breaths, barely held together.

“Spencer...” Her voice cracked. “Is it true? What Derek said on TV—was it—was that true?”

Reid swallowed. “Yes.”

“Oh God…” A sob broke free.

“I didn’t know. We didn’t know. None of us…”

“I know,” Reid said gently. “He didn’t tell anyone for a long time.”

She tried to steady her breathing. “After Dad died, we were all just trying to get by, we didn’t
even see it.”

“That’s not your fault,” Reid said softly. “Buford was good at hiding what he really was. He
fooled everyone.”

“But Derek is my brother.” Her voice broke. “I should’ve seen something. I should’ve
known.”

Reid pressed the phone tighter to his ear. “Sarah, he spent years pretending it never happened.
That was how he survived. You couldn’t have known.”

A long silence followed.

Reid exhaled. “He’s been working through it. Little by little. It hasn’t been easy, but he’s
healing. He really is.”

Sarah’s voice came quieter now. “Because of you.”

“I hope I’ve helped,” Reid said. “But it’s mostly him. He made the choice to face it. To speak
it out loud. What he did today—saying it publicly—that’s healing. That’s strength. I’m so
proud of him.”

“I’m proud of him too,” she whispered.

Another silence passed between them.

“Spencer…” Sarah’s voice trembled with sincerity. “Thank you for loving him. For staying…
even with all that pain in him.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

A broken laugh slipped through her tears. “You two are perfect for each other.”

“We are,” Reid said, and smiled.

“Thank you, Spencer.” Her voice had steadied now. “I think I’m ready to call him.”

***

It was past nine when Morgan knocked on Reid’s hotel room door.

Neither of them said a word.

They just held each other—tight, unshaking.

When they finally pulled apart, Morgan took a good look at the man he loved. He reached out
and gently touched Reid’s cheek.

“You look better,” he said softly.

Reid gave a small, shy smile. Morgan smiled back.

Reid looked calm now—clean, comfortable. He was wearing simple pajamas, his damp hair
tucked neatly behind his ears, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The soft fabric of his
clothes suited him, matching the quiet presence he carried.

It was hard to believe that just hours ago, Reid had been straddling Buford, fists flying in
fury. The memory felt like something from another world.

Morgan took Reid’s hand and examined his knuckles—still red, still scraped raw.

He brought them to his lips and kissed them, carefully. A lump rose in his throat. He pulled
Reid into his chest again, holding him close.

“I saw you on the news,” Reid said, voice muffled against Morgan’s shoulder.

Morgan hummed in acknowledgment.

“I’m proud of you,” Reid added, lifting his head just enough to meet Morgan’s eyes. “You
were brave.”

“You made me brave,” Morgan said. His gaze was warm, full of gratitude and love.

“Sarah called me.”

“I know.” Morgan sighed and finally looked away, just for a moment. “She called me after
you talked. I’m going to see them tomorrow. Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Reid said without hesitation.

After settling into the chairs with a cup of tea, Morgan gently explained the potential
consequences Reid might face.

“Hotch said there are mitigating factors that should help reduce the penalty.”

“What kind of factors?”

“First off, you’ve got a spotless record—never a single reprimand, especially not for anything
violent. And... Buford made some extremely provocative statements.”

Reid’s expression darkened. Morgan reached over and softly brushed a hand through his hair.

“It also helps that we made our relationship official early on. We’ve been together almost
four years now. It shows that what Buford said about me hit you on a personal level.”

Reid nodded slowly, then looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Still worried about your situation,” Morgan admitted, “but... I’m optimistic.”

“No, I mean—” Reid paused. “Seeing Buford again.”

“Oh.” Morgan paused, then let out a short laugh. “Honestly? Watching you beat the crap out
of him was so shocking, I completely forgot I was supposed to be disturbed by seeing him.”

Then he shook his head, eyes still on Reid. “Man, my brain’s still rebooting from that one.”

Reid grinned. “JJ said we don’t need two Morgans.”

Morgan chuckled. “In that case...” He carefully removed Reid’s glasses and slipped them on
himself. “I’ll be the genius for a while.”

With the thick frames perched awkwardly on his nose, he looked so adorably ridiculous that
Reid burst out laughing.

Morgan tilted his head, channeling his inner Reid. “Statistically speaking, the probability of a
stereotypical high school jock evolving into a full-blown intellectual prodigy is
approximately 0.0037 percent.”

Reid rolled his eyes. “There’s no such statistic.”

Morgan continued undeterred. “It is a statistical anomaly. And yet—here I am. Just don’t ask
me to spell ‘Schrödinger.’”

“It’s S-C-H-R—”

Morgan leaned in and kissed him, cutting him off mid-spell.

The kiss was impossibly soft. Lingering. Deepening by degrees.

Reid slid the glasses off Morgan’s face and set them aside. His hand found the back of
Morgan’s neck as he drew him closer, deepening the kiss—slow, reverent, as if time itself had
stepped aside just for them.

They undressed each other slowly, piece by piece, needing to feel skin against skin.

A sigh escaped both of them as their bodies met. The warmth was instant, grounding them in
quiet comfort.

They lay in bed, limbs tangled, still kissing—slowly, tenderly. The world faded into the
sound of lips brushing and the soft rustle of sheets.

“Reid.”

Morgan’s voice was a low rasp. He traced gentle fingers along Reid’s neck. Reid blinked,
caught by the tenderness in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

Morgan hesitated. Just a second.

“I... want you to top tonight.”

Reid froze. His hand stilled against Morgan’s back.

“You mean…like...”

Morgan gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

Reid’s face turned bright red.

“We really gonna switch roles from now on?” Reid managed to joke, though his voice was a
little shaky.

“No.” Morgan laughed softly. “I just...I want to feel you that way.”

Reid didn’t answer right away. Just breathed in. Out. Morgan nuzzled their noses together.

“I want to be yours.”

“You already are.”

“I know. But... physically. I want to give that to you. Only if you’re okay with it.”

“It’s not that I’m not,” Reid said, “It’s just...”

He shifted to sit up a little, needing to see Morgan’s face clearly.

“I’m not saying no. I just need to understand. Is this... is this about your past?”
Morgan didn’t look away. “Yeah. That’s part of it.”

Reid exhaled, his voice tight with worry. “I don’t want to be part of something that hurts you
—even if you’re asking for it.”

“You won’t hurt me.” Morgan reached up and framed Reid’s face with one hand. “You’re the
only person I’ve ever trusted like this. With all of it.”

Reid searched his eyes, and Morgan let him.

Reid swallowed. “Morgan, if you’re trying to replace your memory, it might not work.”

“I’m not.” Morgan’s thumb traced Reid’s cheekbone. “But I want to know what it feels like...
when it’s real. When it’s safe. With someone I love. With you.”

There was a long, full silence between them.

Reid exhaled shakily, brushing a soft kiss to Morgan’s lips. “Okay.”

They looked at each other—awkward, shy, hearts thudding.

Reid’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. Right. So... I’m in charge now?”

Morgan laughed under his breath. “Apparently.”

“Well, um...” Reid cleared his throat and stated, “I’ll stop the second you ask me to.” Then he
flushed again.

Morgan grinned. “I trust you, Spencer.”

Reid shifted, moving above him, then—rather formally—pinned Morgan’s hands gently to
the bed. He paused, unsure if that was too much.

“This is kinda weird,” he whispered.

“Shh...” Morgan chuckled. “Don’t say it out loud, genius.”

“I’m nervous,” Reid admitted.

“Me too,” Morgan murmured.

They both giggled again—until Reid dropped his forehead to Morgan’s shoulder and kissed
it. His lips lingered, trailing along his collarbone and the side of his neck. His hand splayed
over Morgan’s chest, trembling slightly.

Morgan exhaled, the laughter fading into something quieter, more real. His body responded
to Reid’s touch, each kiss sparking a burn of anticipation. His breath caught. Heart racing.

Reid held the lube, exhaling deeply. He glanced at Morgan, nervous and serious. “Tell me if
anything feels wrong.”
“I will.”

Morgan parted his legs as Reid prepared him gently and slowly. Heat rose to Morgan’s face
in quiet embarrassment. Reid’s hands weren’t entirely steady, but they were careful.

Reid’s body pulsed with need—hard against Morgan’s hip. His breath came fast, excitement
barely contained.

Morgan chuckled, breath warm against Reid’s ear. “You’ve got the dominant vibe.”

Reid leaned in and kissed him. “You ready?”

Morgan held his gaze. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Reid shifted, searching for the right angle. Morgan lifted his legs, inviting him in. Reid eased
inside—slow, careful—a warm, tight heat enveloping him. He groaned at the sensation.

Morgan let out a low, broken sound—not pain. Something like release. His hand clutched
Reid’s waist, not to stop him, but to feel him. Anchor him there.

“You okay?” Reid whispered, his voice unsteady, breath catching. His whole body was tense
with need—every muscle straining to stay still as Morgan’s warmth clenched around him.
The sensation was maddening. He was shaking with the effort not to move.

Morgan nodded, eyes open and vulnerable. “Yeah. You can move.”

Reid began to move, and the awkwardness melted away. Waves of pleasure sent shivers
through him. He gasped for air, finding his rhythm.

Morgan clutched Reid’s back. There was some pain, but also a nearly euphoric satisfaction.
He belonged to Reid—no one else. His soul and body, fully surrendered.

Their foreheads touched. Reid kissed him between each thrust. Morgan whispered his name.

“Reid,” he murmured low, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Reid breathed, breath hitching. “I love you.” He kissed him again. “I love you.”

Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid’s shoulders, pulling him close, giving everything—his
pleasure, his heart, his trust.

Reid rocked into him, whispering love like a prayer. Trembling, moaning, lost in the moment.

And then he came—soft gasps against Morgan’s neck, body shuddering, completely
overwhelmed.

He didn’t pull away, holding Morgan through it, breathing hard, still whispering love into his
skin.
Morgan wasn’t far behind. Reid’s hand reached between them found him. He stroked Morgan
gently, coaxing him through the end. Morgan cried out Reid’s name when he came—
trembling, clinging, surrendered.

They collapsed together, sweat-slick and shaking. The silence was sacred—only breath and
heartbeat between them.

Morgan was the first to speak, voice thick. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He squeezed Reid close and sighed deeply.

Reid whispered in his ear, “Was I good?”

Morgan laughed softly, fondly. “Yeah, you were good.” Then he asked, “How was it for
you?”

“It was so good.”

Reid exhaled with satisfaction, and they giggled once more.

***

The next day, Reid and Morgan visited Fran. Sarah and Desiree came too.

They hugged quietly at the door. No one said much.

Morgan sat on the living room couch, facing his mother. In the other room, the low murmur
of Sarah and Reid faded behind a closed door. Morning light filtered through the curtains—
soft and warm—but the air felt heavy.

Fran sat across from him, eyes searching his face like she could rewind time just by looking
hard enough.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I should’ve.”

Morgan shook his head. “Mama… I didn’t let you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked. “You should’ve told me.”

He looked down, silent.

“I would’ve protected you,” she said, choking on the words. “I would’ve burned the world
down for you, Derek.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But back then... I didn’t even know how to say it to myself.”

Fran blinked—and a memory returned:

Late evening. Sixteen-year-old Derek walked through the front door, sweat on his brow from
football practice.
She met him in the hallway and pulled him into a hug.

He smiled, but it was faint. Fragile.

“Tired?” she’d asked.

“A little.” He turned toward the stairs. Halfway up, he paused.

“Mama...?” he said. “Can I quit?”

She looked up. “Quit what, baby?”

A beat.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

He turned and disappeared up the stairs.

Now, in the stillness of the living room, she broke.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Fran sobbed, covering her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Mama—don’t,” Morgan said gently. He got up and sat beside her.

“I didn’t see it. I was right there—”

“Mama, it wasn’t your fault.”

Her hand trembled as she cupped his cheek. “My baby…”

She pulled him into her arms, like she had when he was small. Rocked him gently.

“I’ve got you now,” she whispered. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you. Not my baby. Not my
Derek.”

His shoulders trembled. He let her hold him. Let himself be held.

“I love you, Mama,” he whispered. “Your love kept me here. Gave me something to live for.
Someone to protect.”

They stayed that way—mother and son—until footsteps approached the doorway.

Sarah, Desiree, and Reid stood there in silence.

Reid’s eyes were red. Sarah moved first.

She sat beside Derek and wrapped her arms around him. Desiree followed. Then Sarah
looked at Reid and gave a small nod.

Reid stepped forward and sat beside Sarah. Morgan reached for his hand and held it tight.
No one spoke.

They didn’t need to.

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