Easy
Spencer Reid was odd.
There was no point in denying it. Morgan didn’t think he ever had denied it. But he never said it was a bad thing. It was the kid’s little quirks and eccentricities that had all the women cooing over how adorable he was and putting on a mother hen act that always seemed to bewilder Spencer.
And it was a constant source of damage to his pride that it wasn’t just the women who mollycoddled Spencer.
He just couldn’t help it. He never had been able to help it. The kid was just so damn...hopeless.
He had no idea how to take care of himself. He had come to this conclusion about a month after Spencer joined the BAU. Shortly after this, had come the revelation that yes, the boy really did need a keeper.
At first that keeper had been Gideon, and Morgan had been a little relieved because, despite a niggling and bizarrely insistent concern for Reid’s hopelessness, he didn’t think he would have the first clue as to how to actually deal with the confusing mix of man and child that was his co-worker. So he was content to just keep a sharp eye on Reid, and to give Gideon the heads up if anything seemed off.
But then Gideon left. And he left behind a brilliant, strong but utterly crushed and confused man behind. Gideon’s swift departure had left Reid wandering around like a man in Limbo.
And for a while, Morgan found himself feeling just as lost and disoriented as Reid.
Because what, he asked himself, was he supposed to do now?
The answer had come to him very suddenly, though he had a feeling that it had always been lurking at the back of his mind, slowly turning up the heat until he finally got the message. And a burn mark.
And a mark was what he got. Because at the time that the answer finally registered with him, he was in Spencer’s apartment, cooking the kid the first proper meal he had eaten in days. And then he had glanced around the rest of the apartment, taking in the disorganised chaos around him, and Spencer’s face looking so grateful for the grounding that Morgan was providing, and he had started, his hand slipping onto the hot ring of the oven.
Spencer, of course, sprang up from his place at the table (having been banished there by Morgan after he had tried to help with the cooking - “Just sit down and don’t try to help. Do not make me smack you.”), and began fussing around Morgan, asking whether he needed to see a doctor.
But Morgan hardly heard Reid. He was lost in his own mind, marvelling at the answer that had materialised there, and astonishingly comfortable with it.
He would be Spencer Reid’s keeper.
And he had expected himself to whine and bitch and balk, and to not be at all oaky with it, but...it was so goddamn easy.
It was so easy to settle into a routine with Spencer, one that they had both come to depend on and need and actually like.
It was so easy to just meld into Spencer’s life, to invite himself in to Spencer’s apartment, which “...needs better damn locks on, kid, I keep telling you this!”, to make sure he got up on time to have a decent breakfast before Morgan gave him a lift in. Because Spencer’s car was just plain dangerous.
And it was easy to look over towards Reid’s desk at lunch time and, upon seeing him completely absorbed with case files, stride over to him, turn his chair around to face him and simply say, “Lunch. Now.”
Easy to quietly gather Reid’s jacket and messenger bag without his noticing at the end of the day, when the office is dark, and then to turn to Reid, switch off his computer, close all his case files and thrust the coat and bag into his lap. And then stare hard at those pleading eyes that seemed to say ‘just five more minutes, and I can solve this!’ until the other man gave up all thoughts of rebellion and followed Morgan out of the office.
Easy to repeat the entire process all over again in the morning.
Which was why he didn’t mind at all that he was wide awake at two in the morning, sitting in his living room (because the hell if he was going to let Reid stay in his own apartment while the heating was busted) watching Spencer feverishly straightening the objects on his shelves and in his cupboards (with them all being arranged, of course, in order from largest to smallest) not having to say anything, just content that the activity and the company seemed to soothe Reid’s frazzled nerves.
He knew that the kid was out of sorts. He also knew that this agitation had not been present before his recent visit to his mother. And he knew that Reid would tell him when he was ready.
But right now, the kid looked exhausted. The deceptive mouth with cunning words could lie to him, tell him that he was fine, but those shadowy circles under his eyes always told Morgan the truth.
He hefted himself up from his position on the sofa, and approached Reid, taking a firm grip on his shoulders, turning him around gently but with no room for disobedience so that he could make eye contact.
“Bed, Reid. Now.” The other opened his mouth as if to say something. “Don’t even bother, because nothing you say is gonna make any difference. You’re going to bed, and you’re going now.”
Without waiting for Reid to react, he took his companion’s hand and firmly led him up the stairs and into the guest-but-really-Spencer’s-room.
Spencer followed docilely, the exhaustion claiming his body and lulling it into such a state of numbness that he happily followed Morgan’s every order, obediently climbing into bed when the older man drew back the covers and pushed him down into the sheets.
“Night, kiddo.” A warm hand ruffling his hair, somehow in a completely different manner from the hair-ruffling at the office.
This was gentler, almost like how his mother used to stroke his hair.
Morgan perceived the little twitch of Reid’s brow, and held in a sigh, wishing that sometimes, the kid would play his cards a little less close to his chest.
Knowing that pushing things would only have the effect of pushing those cards out of sight all together, Morgan simply patted the overly-busy head and retreated.
On the way out of the door though, Morgan turned back and said in a low and infinitely patient voice, “Anytime kid, you know that.”
***
And for some reason, Morgan really didn’t mind when Reid took his words literally.
For some reason, Morgan didn’t mind one bit when he was cautiously prodded awake at - four o’clock in the morning, according to his sleep-blurred eyes - only to find Reid standing by his bed, anxious as a child who knows that it’s a bad time to be waking people up. And the other man has a slight, tense, frown on his face and he seems to be bursting with the need to just tell someone for once.
And all Morgan does is scoot over in his bed and lift the corner of the cover in a warm and soft invitation that Reid is simply unable to turn down.
And at this point, Morgan has stopped being surprised at how easy it is.
There was no point in denying it. Morgan didn’t think he ever had denied it. But he never said it was a bad thing. It was the kid’s little quirks and eccentricities that had all the women cooing over how adorable he was and putting on a mother hen act that always seemed to bewilder Spencer.
And it was a constant source of damage to his pride that it wasn’t just the women who mollycoddled Spencer.
He just couldn’t help it. He never had been able to help it. The kid was just so damn...hopeless.
He had no idea how to take care of himself. He had come to this conclusion about a month after Spencer joined the BAU. Shortly after this, had come the revelation that yes, the boy really did need a keeper.
At first that keeper had been Gideon, and Morgan had been a little relieved because, despite a niggling and bizarrely insistent concern for Reid’s hopelessness, he didn’t think he would have the first clue as to how to actually deal with the confusing mix of man and child that was his co-worker. So he was content to just keep a sharp eye on Reid, and to give Gideon the heads up if anything seemed off.
But then Gideon left. And he left behind a brilliant, strong but utterly crushed and confused man behind. Gideon’s swift departure had left Reid wandering around like a man in Limbo.
And for a while, Morgan found himself feeling just as lost and disoriented as Reid.
Because what, he asked himself, was he supposed to do now?
The answer had come to him very suddenly, though he had a feeling that it had always been lurking at the back of his mind, slowly turning up the heat until he finally got the message. And a burn mark.
And a mark was what he got. Because at the time that the answer finally registered with him, he was in Spencer’s apartment, cooking the kid the first proper meal he had eaten in days. And then he had glanced around the rest of the apartment, taking in the disorganised chaos around him, and Spencer’s face looking so grateful for the grounding that Morgan was providing, and he had started, his hand slipping onto the hot ring of the oven.
Spencer, of course, sprang up from his place at the table (having been banished there by Morgan after he had tried to help with the cooking - “Just sit down and don’t try to help. Do not make me smack you.”), and began fussing around Morgan, asking whether he needed to see a doctor.
But Morgan hardly heard Reid. He was lost in his own mind, marvelling at the answer that had materialised there, and astonishingly comfortable with it.
He would be Spencer Reid’s keeper.
And he had expected himself to whine and bitch and balk, and to not be at all oaky with it, but...it was so goddamn easy.
It was so easy to settle into a routine with Spencer, one that they had both come to depend on and need and actually like.
It was so easy to just meld into Spencer’s life, to invite himself in to Spencer’s apartment, which “...needs better damn locks on, kid, I keep telling you this!”, to make sure he got up on time to have a decent breakfast before Morgan gave him a lift in. Because Spencer’s car was just plain dangerous.
And it was easy to look over towards Reid’s desk at lunch time and, upon seeing him completely absorbed with case files, stride over to him, turn his chair around to face him and simply say, “Lunch. Now.”
Easy to quietly gather Reid’s jacket and messenger bag without his noticing at the end of the day, when the office is dark, and then to turn to Reid, switch off his computer, close all his case files and thrust the coat and bag into his lap. And then stare hard at those pleading eyes that seemed to say ‘just five more minutes, and I can solve this!’ until the other man gave up all thoughts of rebellion and followed Morgan out of the office.
Easy to repeat the entire process all over again in the morning.
Which was why he didn’t mind at all that he was wide awake at two in the morning, sitting in his living room (because the hell if he was going to let Reid stay in his own apartment while the heating was busted) watching Spencer feverishly straightening the objects on his shelves and in his cupboards (with them all being arranged, of course, in order from largest to smallest) not having to say anything, just content that the activity and the company seemed to soothe Reid’s frazzled nerves.
He knew that the kid was out of sorts. He also knew that this agitation had not been present before his recent visit to his mother. And he knew that Reid would tell him when he was ready.
But right now, the kid looked exhausted. The deceptive mouth with cunning words could lie to him, tell him that he was fine, but those shadowy circles under his eyes always told Morgan the truth.
He hefted himself up from his position on the sofa, and approached Reid, taking a firm grip on his shoulders, turning him around gently but with no room for disobedience so that he could make eye contact.
“Bed, Reid. Now.” The other opened his mouth as if to say something. “Don’t even bother, because nothing you say is gonna make any difference. You’re going to bed, and you’re going now.”
Without waiting for Reid to react, he took his companion’s hand and firmly led him up the stairs and into the guest-but-really-Spencer’s-room.
Spencer followed docilely, the exhaustion claiming his body and lulling it into such a state of numbness that he happily followed Morgan’s every order, obediently climbing into bed when the older man drew back the covers and pushed him down into the sheets.
“Night, kiddo.” A warm hand ruffling his hair, somehow in a completely different manner from the hair-ruffling at the office.
This was gentler, almost like how his mother used to stroke his hair.
Morgan perceived the little twitch of Reid’s brow, and held in a sigh, wishing that sometimes, the kid would play his cards a little less close to his chest.
Knowing that pushing things would only have the effect of pushing those cards out of sight all together, Morgan simply patted the overly-busy head and retreated.
On the way out of the door though, Morgan turned back and said in a low and infinitely patient voice, “Anytime kid, you know that.”
***
And for some reason, Morgan really didn’t mind when Reid took his words literally.
For some reason, Morgan didn’t mind one bit when he was cautiously prodded awake at - four o’clock in the morning, according to his sleep-blurred eyes - only to find Reid standing by his bed, anxious as a child who knows that it’s a bad time to be waking people up. And the other man has a slight, tense, frown on his face and he seems to be bursting with the need to just tell someone for once.
And all Morgan does is scoot over in his bed and lift the corner of the cover in a warm and soft invitation that Reid is simply unable to turn down.
And at this point, Morgan has stopped being surprised at how easy it is.