The care and feeding of a genius - Part Four
There were many reasons why Derek Morgan was good for Spencer Reid.
The most obvious reason was that he was overprotective. And when one looked at all the times where Reid had been placed in danger, there could be no mistaking that this was a good thing. It was common knowledge that Hotch had given up all attempts at discretion long ago, and now blatantly paired Reid with Morgan whenever possible. Not because Reid was incompetent. He just had damn bad luck and a dangerous job and colleagues who were all verging on the overprotective side. None more so than Morgan. And so Reid would just have to deal with that.
He dealt with the fact that Morgan always walked just a little closer than was strictly necessary whenever they went into the field. He dealt with the fact that the older man had a habit of placing himself just a little bit in front of Reid whenever they spoke to civilians. And he dealt with the fact that Morgan was always a little too eager to bristle and challenge any perceived slight made towards Reid, no matter who made it. He even dealt with the fact that whenever levels of tension were raised around the younger man, Morgan’s hand would slide almost imperceptibly towards his firearm.
Another reason was that Reid took everything seriously. Morgan did not.
He took his job seriously, he took the safety of others seriously, but life outside of that was for living and laughing.
He helped Reid to loosen up. Sometimes it was a gentle but insistent tugging on the other’s arm at the end of a long day - a tugging that almost inevitably lead them in the direction of either Morgan’s place for pizza, bad movies and movingly genuine warmth or out for a liberating good night and drinks.
Other times it was a joke at Reid’s expense. And the jokes themselves could sum up Morgan’s suitability for the role of Reid’s partner - making a joke about Reid was an art more precise, and with more chance of absolute devastation, than the manufacture and containment of deadly diseases. But Morgan just knew. He knew everything that enabled him to get it right.
He knew that Reid’s school days had been a perfect example of vicious and devastating bullying, and that this had cemented in Reid’s mind that normal, loving friendships and teasing were mutually exclusive. He knew that timing was of the essence. He just seemed to know when Reid was in too fragile a mood to cope with being teased. And he seemed to know when just one little quip could pull the first real smile from the other in days. He also knew which subjects to avoid and which were fair game, if he wanted the result of his joke to be that endearing blush and one of those warm-and-fuzzy-feeling-inducing little grins.
One of the most important reasons was that Morgan knew when to talk and what to say, and when to say precisely nothing.
It’s a rare gift, even for profilers, to know when their friends need them to scream and yell and soothe them, and when they need them to shut the fuck up and just sit there.
Morgan could always tell when Reid needed to scream and rant and cry and needed for someone to scream and rant right back at him. He could tell when the other knew in his heart what he needed to do, but just needed Morgan to verbally smack him round the head and tell him what to do. The need for a verbal kick up the backside as motivation was particularly important, and Morgan knew when he needed to be blunt as nails for full impact. There was one incident in particular when he knew without a shadow of a doubt that, “Get over this snit, get on with your job and get on with your life,” was the right thing to say. And he did say it. And it was the right thing to say. Because the expression of tense confliction and anger that had been clouding Reid’s face for days had slid off to be replaced with a slack expression of shock, which then slowly melted into comprehension and then peaceful acceptance. There had also been a quiet, “Yeah. Okay.”
But Morgan was just as good at recognising when all that was required of him was to keep his mouth well and truly shut and all thoughts to himself, and to just sit in the same space as Reid, occasionally listening to a raspy voice thinking or reading out loud, but most of the time simply sharing in the silence.
It was not always comfortable, but it was always what was needed.
But perhaps the most important reason was the one that could easily summarise Morgan’s absolute perfection for the position of confidant and Reid-management.
Hotch always said that it was simply because Morgan balanced Reid out. Where Reid could be defensive, Morgan was at ease. Where Reid could be in a frustrated frenzy of activity, unable to put the last pieces of his own solution together, Morgan would be calm, could lean back and force Reid to cool off and look at things from a different perspective. Two sides of the same coin. One on each end of the scales.
And Morgan thought about that little balancing theory right now as he watched Reid buzz about the apartment in agitation. He fairly vibrated with tension and frustration, attempting to soothe his frazzled nerves by indulging in his obsessive compulsive tendencies as he went along every surface in the room, rearranging and straightening every ornament he could find with a feverish intensity.
When he was done, he slumped down on the sofa, exhausted but not at peace. This was Morgan’s cue to get up, go over ever object that Reid had fastidiously arranged, and proceed to put them into disarray, ruining the doctor’s careful arrangement with random and illogical patterns of placement.
“Hey!” Reid cried in pathetic dismay that made Morgan smile. He doubted that it was meant to be adorable, but it really, really was.
“I just spent the past ten minutes arranging those, they - ”
The long-suffering wail was cut off quickly by Morgan.
“I know,” were the words that were quietly murmured into the younger man’s soft hair as Morgan pressed a kiss onto Reid’s forehead.
After a split second of frustrated, anguished tension from a difficult day, and a little bit of sulkiness, Reid’s unyielding stiffness relaxed and he let himself rest against Morgan’s chest as the other patted his back gently.
The doctor gave a slightly petulant but relenting sigh.
“I suppose they look okay.”