Fic: Come Daylight 11
Title: Come Daylight [11/?]
Author: wanderingjasper
Rating: FRT
Characters: Morgan/Reid, team
Word Count: 3562
Themes: Fluff, romance, life!angst, mpreg.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I do take liberties with them for no financial gain.
Notes: AU, unrelated to other fics, features Mpreg. A gift fic for my wifey Evo. Previous chapters: here.
Summary: A nightmare and a baby shower.
“It is better to be prepared for an opportunity and not have one than to have an opportunity and not be prepared.” - Whittney Young, Jr.
Nightmares were nothing new for either of them, and when they came they did what they could for the other. It had been a long time since Morgan had been jostled awake, and even longer since he’d heard Reid crying out.
“Derek! Help me Derek!”
“Spencer?” he murmured, pushing himself up. Beside him his husband was thrashing in his sleep, clutching at his belly.
“Derek! I’m bleeding, Derek, I’m bleeding! Derek!”
“Spencer!” He said firmly, holding the man’s shoulders.
The fight against the sudden hold roused him quickly, and he blinked himself out of sleep with a spluttered gasp. While one hand stayed gripping his stomach the other quickly moved lower, franticly feeling around the bed and the inside of his legs.
“You’re not bleeding Spencer, it was a dream.” He said firmly. Reid’s eyes focused on him, wide and scared, and after a moment of nervous flickering to read his features he relaxed. He sat up, Derek’s arms helping to guide him, and let out a long shuddering breath.
“Sorry.” He murmured, reaching for the bedside lamp.
“It’s okay, babe. We all have nightmares.”
“I know.” He muttered, pulling his hand back, where it went to his belly with the other. “I was bleeding. Placental abruption. Or miscarrying. Although at this point the fetus has limited viability, it technically wouldn’t be a miscarriage, but preterm labour.”
Morgan noticed the way Reid didn’t seem conscious of his hands as he usually was; they were cradling his swollen stomach, wrapped around himself protectively.
“I was on the jet, and you weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you apologising for not being in my dream?” Reid gave a little laugh. Morgan smiled warmly, stroking his hand along his husband’s arm.
“Yeah. Don’t want to think I’m why you’re upset, even if it wasn’t really me. I’m gonna be there for you, Spencer.”
“I know.” He breathed. “I’m not anxious that you won’t be there when I give birth.”
“What are you anxious about?” he smoothed his hand down Reid’s back, gently kissing the side of his face.
“I think, that if something goes wrong it’ll irrecoverably damage our relationship. It feels like everything we’ve worked for hinges on this pregnancy being successful. Our relationship has always been so strong, but this is so big. We know how many relationships fail after the death of a child, and the numbers aren’t that much smaller for the loss of a late-term pregnancy.”
“Nothing is going to happen. You’ve been doing so well, baby.” Morgan murmured. “Your blood pressure is good, you’re gaining a little more weight now than we thought you would... you know how rare it is to lose a pregnancy this late without an underlying issue, and you don’t have any.”
“I know that. And I know it’s irrational for this to scare me, but it does.”
“And I’m not faulting you for that. I get scared too, you know. Sometimes, when my mind wanders to the ‘what ifs’. And I know how bad it could be. So I try not to think about it, because it’s not gonna happen.”
“When I’m scared I think in circles.” Reid sighed, finally letting go of his stomach to push himself off the bed. “I’ll be glad when I don’t need to pee every two hours.”
He was clutching his belly again when he returned to the bedroom, a slight grimace on his face.
“Spencer?” Morgan prompted.
“It’s awake.” He rejoined his husband on the bed, flicking off the lamp and settling down on his side. “I think my physical reaction to the nightmare woke it.” he said as Morgan’s hand stroked along the side of his belly, seeking the sensation of their fetus moving. When he found it he curled close, leaning in to kiss the tip of Reid’s nose.
“What does it feel like?”
“Sort of exactly what you’d imagine having something moving around in you would feel like.” He said. “It’s hard to explain. It’s been happening for weeks now, it feels normal.”
“I think it’s going back to sleep.” Morgan noted as he tried to follow the sensations pressing up against Reid’s belly, as they grew fainter.
“It’s big, Derek. Feels big.”
“And you’re only gonna get bigger.” He cooed. “Any day now, you’re gonna start waddling properly.”
“Aren’t I already? It feels like I am.”
“Not really. Your posture’s been better since you started getting big, though. Too much belly to hunch.”
“Great, pregnancy can do my body one favour while systematically ruining it.”
“Your body isn’t ruined.” Morgan murmured, as Reid turned over and pushed himself into his shape.
“It’s been months since I’ve been able to be the big spoon,” Reid sighed, “that’s not nice. And getting up from any remotely soft chair is becoming increasingly like getting up from a beanbag.”
“I know, it’s adorable.” Morgan grinned against the man’s ear. “And this is adorable.” He said as he traced his thumb around Reid’s slightly distended navel. “It’s gonna be a proper little button soon, when my sister see it they might die from the oestrogen rush.”
“I’m more worried about your mom.”
“Huh?”
“She has five grandchildren already, but it’s pretty obvious she’s anticipating this one most, because she thought you the least likely to be a parent.”
“You been profiling my mother?” he asked, settling in against his husband.
“No. It’s pretty obvious. She might never let us come back home.”
Morgan laughed into the warmth of the other man’s flesh, closing his eyes as sleep threatened him, feeling the other’s body relax in preparation for unconsciousness.
---
He really had considered say no to Garcia. He had known early on she’d want to throw a baby shower for him, and that he could accept, but when she said it was going to be on Halloween he’d almost turned her down. He loved Halloween, and he really didn’t want to be stuck inside doing ‘baby things’ on one of the best nights of the year. But when she’d shown him the invitations, which were more like mementos than actual functional invites since all the people invited were those they interacted with every day, he’d felt much better; they were pumpkin shaped, and inside they specified a dress code of black and orange.
When he’d realised the baby shower was going to be Halloween-themed, he’d wanted to help. Garcia had refused, saying the celebration was to treat him and so he didn’t get to plan it. So when the afternoon of the last day of October came, Garcia arrived in an orange dress with black thematic accessories (including a glittery spider in her hair), Kevin following in a pumpkin-patterned shirt. She set to work decorating the lounge and dining room in stylish, spooky fashion, bat, pumpkin and ghost motifs repeated throughout. Reid was not allowed to help, which was a common theme these days. She wouldn’t even let him help cook when she started baking, but she did send Kevin into the living room with a batter-covered spatula for him.
In the evening the team arrived in groups, first JJ and Hotch fresh from trick-or-treating with each of their children, she in an orange top under her black one, black leggings and buckled boots that Garcia almost looked she was ready to rip off her feet and and Hotch with an orange handkerchief poking out of the pocket of his shirt, the only hint of orange amongst the black. Prentiss arrived in an orange dress top and a high-waist black skirt, a nice bottle of wine and an apology for Reid since he couldn’t drink. The Monster Mash was playing quietly in the background as Reid had found himself confined to sitting again even though it felt like all he’d been allowed to do all day.
“What’s she cooking?” Prentiss asked, leaning her arm on the back of the sofa.
“I don’t think she’s cooking,” he said as he smoothed down his orange tie, “I think she’s delegated the hard work to Kevin and Derek.”
“Well, she does do all the legwork at the BAU.” Hotch reasoned.
“How are you doing, Spence?” JJ asked, nodding at his belly where his hand was rested on the top of the swell.
“I’m okay.”
“Not freaking out?” she teased gently. “You freaked out when I was carrying Henry.”
“I’ve had a few months to get used to it.”
She raised her eyebrows and smiled as if she didn’t quite believe him, as Hotch appeared from the kitchen followed by the sound of Garcia shooing him. He raised his eyes at the rest of his team to knowing grins, making for an empty chair. He was just moving to sit down when the doorbell sounded and Reid braced himself to get up, but Hotch was quicker.
“I’ll go, Reid.” He said as Clooney barked from the kitchen, the sound of claws on hardwood as he hurried to the front door at the same time as Hotch.
“Nobody lets me do anything anymore.” he noted, not really upset.
“It gets like that.” JJ said.
“This is your evening though.” Prentiss reasoned. “Everyone wants to spoil you.”
Hotch returned a few moments later with Seaver behind him, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, the block of colour broken by an orange belt. She petted Clooney with one hand while she held the wrapped gift she had in the other hand. Prentiss left the room and returned with another glass of wine, taking the gift and putting it with the others - despite Reid having insisted Garcia tell everyone it wasn’t necessary to buy them anything - and pressed the wine into Seaver’s hand. Reid didn’t miss the miniscule brush of fingers against fingers as she did. He wondered if it was intentional, and wondered how early those interactions between he and Morgan had been noticed by the team.
Rossi turned up fashionably late, wearing a peach shirt rather than orange but Garcia gave him a pass because the box he brought with him was big. With a jack-o-lantern centrepiece, the group settled in to the prepared meal, enjoying each other’s company on a rare evening without any interruption except for regular trick-or-treaters.
“Garcia,” Reid said absently, glancing around the table, “did you give me a bigger portion than everyone else?”
“You’re eating for two.” She cooed to a round of laughter.
“Actually a pregnant person only needs to consume three hundred to six hundred extra calories a day to sustain a healthy pregnancy. ”
“Pssh.” She waved her fork at him. “Don’t argue, auntie Penelope is gonna make sure you and mini-genius get plenty of nutrition in the last leg of pregnancy.”
“Enjoy month six while you can,” JJ interjected, “it’s a welcome reprieve, everything seems to plateau and then month seven and bam! Weight gain and water retention, back pain and getting your organs kicked around.”
“That fills me with confidence.” Reid said dryly. Morgan grinned and reached out to stroke his arm affectionately.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Hotch said. “Any time from now you can start leave, though.”
“I know,” he nodded, “I’d rather work as long as I can.”
“What, pull a JJ and almost give birth in my batcave?” Garcia teased.
“I can fly for nine more weeks, I won’t need to invade your batcave until the last month.”
“I can’t wait. It’ll be better than when you were on crutches.”
“Sadist.” Morgan commented.
“Tell me about it.” Kevin muttered from Garcia’s other side.
Reid double-tapping his fork on the edge of his plate was enough to draw the attention of the gathered profilers as he rocked a little and pressed him lips together. The sudden atmosphere of worry was tangible, and he actually laughed at the quick shift in tone.
“It’s just the fetus moving.” He waved his fork at them, quickly dismissing their worry. There were various coos and smiles, and Reid caught where Morgan was looking; below the top of the table where Reid’s hand had automatically abandoned his knife and moved to stroke soothingly over his bump.
Spencer wasn’t allowed to help clear up after dinner was long over and conversations had come to a natural end, so instead he took Seaver, JJ, Prentiss and Rossi upstairs to look at the nursery. There were still sheets on the floor and several cans of paint in the corner, but things were coming together.
“Ooh, green.” Prentiss said.
“Nice bookcase.” Rossi said sincerely, running a hand over the smooth light wood.
“Derek made it.”
“Before the crib?”
“Cribs are a little more complicated,” Reid reasoned, “but he’s getting to it. He wants to make a changing station himself too.”
“Not enough for him to make the baby, huh?” Prentiss chuckled.
“Well Spence is cooking it,” JJ grinned, “Morgan probably needs to feel like he’s being productive. Will was exactly the same. If we’d found a babysitter he’d have been able to compare notes. You okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Reid smiled, realising he was frowning. He cleared his face, though not his thoughts as he considered he hadn’t considered whether there had been deeper reasoning for Morgan to want to produce handmade things for their child’s nursery.
“This is going to be nice.” Seaver commented, looking around the room absently, though he noticed the way her arms were tucked tightly around her, her half-glass of wine stuck out at an angle, and then nodding at the bare window overlooking the large back garden. “Blinds?”
“I think so.”
Garcia’s sing-song voice from downstairs called them back to the living room, where she was holding a stack of papers and all the people on cleaning-up duty where now sat around.
“Time for a game!” she grinned.
Reid caught Morgan’s eye and laughed; he’d known the evening had been too reserved for something Garcia had organised. Hotch started to move to give Reid somewhere to sit but Morgan had already reached out for Reid’s hand, gently tugging him to sit on his lap in the chair.
“Derek-” he chided gently, but Morgan merely grinned and leant up to kiss his jaw.
“Aww c’mon, we need the seats anyhow.”
Although they weren’t reserved about being affectionate socially, hand-holding and subtle kisses was usually all that happened, sitting in his husband’s lap wasn’t usual behaviour. But it was comfortable and the approving eyes he could feel on them felt good.
“Here,” Garcia started as she handed around the papers, “is a collage of baby photos. Everyone has five minutes to guess who’s who, then we’ll tot up the scores. Most correct answers get a prize!”
“Well this rigged,” Morgan commented, “I’m gonna be the only black baby on here.”
“Don’t doubt my genius,” she chided, “there’s a few celebrity babies in there for you to guess.”
Reid recognised Derek straight away, a bounce of afro hair and a toothy grin. He felt Morgan’s hand slow a little where it had been rubbing the side of his belly, and he knew it was because the uncropped versioned was a two year old Derek sitting in his father’s lap; a darker skinned spitting image of his son now.
“You were so cute.” Spencer whispered, hoping to soften the memory as everyone else studied their paper to the soft sound of The Time Warp playing in the background. The picture of Reid was much younger, but Derek subtly tapped it, indicating he recognised it. In the top right hand corner was a picture of a boxer puppy with its head cocked to the side, looking up at the camera. Reid grinned and looked up for Clooney, who was stretched out on Kevin and Seaver’s feet.
“Okay!” Garcia said eventually. “I trust you all to mark your own answers without cheating. Number one, cute little blonde in pigtails.”
“JJ.” Rossi said confidently.
“Nope.” JJ shook her head.
“Oh.”
“I know.” Prentiss grinned. “Drew Barrymore.
“Bingo!” Garcia chirped. “Anyone else get that one?”
There were a few agreements, Derek had spotted the celeb while Reid hadn’t. Everyone guessed Morgan’s picture, the smile really gave it away. Most guessed Michael Jackson and Prentiss with her mop of dark hair. Kevin complained that his was the only naked baby photo, standing in his father’s shoes and nothing else, holding a water hose in the summer sun. JJ and Hotch were the hardest to guess, both mistaken for celebrities many times over. In the end Prentiss had guessed the most correctly, and won the prize of liqueur chocolates and a squeaky bat key ring, and Garcia passed around ghost-shaped cookies for the effort.
“C’mon daddies,” Garcia said, “present time.”
“Okay.” Morgan said as he momentarily pulled Reid close to kiss the side of his face before he got up to give up the whole chair to Reid, perching on the arm beside him. Reid had never been to a baby shower but he knew opening the presents in company was customary, but it still felt weird. He’d never done the same at a childhood birthday party, in fact he’d only had two with other children as guests, at times he imagined when his mother could convince other mothers to get their children to come even if they weren’t friends with him.
JJ’s gift was practical, a travel bag with lots of pockets and sections for everything, stocked with diapers and bottles, rubber bottle nipples and wipes, practically everything that they could need for trips away from hope with an infant.
“Black,” she said, “so Morgan can still look manly carrying it around.”
Hotch gifted something also practical but Reid thought actually kind of sad, a book to record a baby’s first year. Briefly he wondered if Haley had kept such a record, and Hotch had looked through it over all the things he’d missed. Garcia and Kevin, though mostly Garcia nobody doubted, gifted an assortment of tiny baby clothing in lots of colours; one pieces and outfits, socks and booties and hats and gloves, a few of the pieces hand-knitted and one top with ‘I love my daddies’ across it.
Rossi had bought a bottle warmer, and from the way he did the standard explaining of the gift it was obvious he’d had help choosing it. Prentiss offered up a collection of large print books, things with sounds and fabrics and dangly things to stimulate a young mind as the story was read to them. Seaver had brought them bibs and bowls and spoons, three different sets in animal designs; a giraffe, a frog and a cat.
They were all welcome gifts, and they made Reid realise quite suddenly just how much preparing they had left to do. He wondered if their team could tell how hesitant they were, or more accurately, how hesitantly he was. He was sure if they were doing things at Morgan’s pace they’d be all prepared, the nursery done, stocked up on bottles and diapers. As everyone looked over and discussed the gift choices Reid flicked through one of the baby books, brain absorbing the story of the Happy Little Dog, he wondered if his reluctance to prepare would impact how well becoming a parent would go.
---
“Do you think I’m going to be a good parent?”
Morgan paused in the doorway, looking at Reid sat on the bed with Clooney between his knees, stroking the dog’s head absently. The guests were long gone, leaving a tired couple ready for bed.
“Baby, what spurred this?”
“Do you think I will be a good parent?” he repeated slower.
He crossed the room, climbing onto the bed next to his husband. He reached out to stroke the dog as he kissed Reid’s shoulder.
“I think you’re going to be a great father.”
“Really? Be honest. Are you worried you’ll have to support me to be a capable parent?”
“Where is this coming from, Spencer?”
“Nowhere.” He shrugged. “Not really.”
He looked too worried for Morgan to drop the subject, so he settled back to consider the other man.
“I don’t worry about that. Not for a second. I think you’ll be a good parent, I really do. And we’re doing this together, we’re not gonna always get it right, but we’ll be there for each other.”
“I’ve never even fed a baby with a bottle.” Reid said. “I fed a lamb a bottle at a farm once, I hesitate to assume they’re similar.”
“Probably not.” Morgan chuckled. “We’ve both got a lot to learn. Neither of us has changed a diaper, we’re both gonna have to learn that. We’ve got that prenatal class on Tuesday, that’s meant to help. We’re gonna be okay.”
“I hope we are.” He muttered.
“We are. I promise you, we are not gonna suck at being parents. I mean we look after each other pretty well.”
“Yeah, and you can be a pretty big baby some times.” Reid smirked.
“I’ll ignore that, seeing as how I can’t exactly wrestle you right now.”
Reid huffed a sound that was almost disappointed as Morgan moved in closer, slipping his arm back behind his lover and pulling him against him.
“We’ve got this, pretty boy.”
“Even if you know what's coming, you're never prepared for how it feels.” - Natalie Standiford