criminal minds holiday fic, pg-13
Title: although it’s been said, many times, many ways
Author: mijmeraar
Pairing: Reid/Morgan
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show. Or Coca Cola.
AN: If any Reid!Facts have giant holes in them, please let me know. This is really, really fluffy [in case you need warning] - a nice warm Christmas fic. Hope you like it and hope you have a fantastic Christmas yourselves.
Reid has his limbs curled lazily around Morgan and his mouth open at his ear, breathing heavy, breathing deep, asking, “Can I tell you now?” in a worn out, fucked thin voice. Morgan laughs despite himself, fingers drawing secret patterns on Reid’s back, secret four letter words even a genius cannot translate.
“Do I have a choice?” is his response, but his smile is genuine, is heart all in, and he could never say no to Reid, anyway. Reid moves in closer, gently raises his head, his mouth running along the shell of Morgan’s ear. He knows how to play Morgan, and Morgan likes it.
“Santa Claus is actually just a deviation from Sinterklaas, or Saint Nicholas, who was a Dutch saint. The patron saint, actually, to many groups; including sailors, merchants, archers and, of course, children.” Reid shifts, moving his hand so that it rests at Morgan’s collar bone. His finger traces idly along, as if second nature, as if he’s been here many times, knows every hill and every line. Everything.
“Contrast to the myth of Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas actually existed, during the fourth century AD. He was believed to have given secret gifts, especially to those who were in desperate need. Of course, some stories have been exaggerated to show the man as other worldly, carrying out tasks that were beyond the power of normal men.”
“So we just took up all the fantastical parts and turned him into a jolly fat man that slides down chimneys?”
Reid laughs, gentle and warm, like the fingers he moves slowly downward, “It was a much slower process than that, I’m afraid. Early settlers carried their childhood memories with them on arriving here, but it wasn’t until the 18th century when the idea was slowly transformed into … well, the jolly fat man, as you said.”
“The same jolly fat man making wealthy people wealthier.” Morgan says plainly, the hand that had been tracing Reid’s back, now in the other man's hair. Twirling and curling around his fingers, soft, already mussed from where it had been balled in Morgan’s fists just moments before.
“Yes, his image has been seriously commercialised.”
“No kidding? He was trying to sell me Coke when I was a kid.”
“Trying?”
Morgan looked over to Reid with his brow creased, Reid just smirking shrewdly, his hand now playing at Morgan’s hip bones, “Okay, so I wanted the Coke that Santa was selling. I was six. Sue me.”
“You know, it’s 75 years since Coca Cola began its Santa Clause campaign. Many argue that Coca Cola were the first to depict Santa as he is now - fat and jolly - but - "
“Reid.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”
“Well, no, obviously I - ” Morgan laughs, grabbing Reid by the upper thigh and twisting him around so that his backs hit the mattress, Morgan above him. Reid looks up, big eyes and pouted lips, the whole reindeer and headlights that lured Morgan in the first place. Morgan kisses at Reid’s neck, dragging his mouth slowly down to the collar and nipping gently.
“I don’t know,” Morgan says gruffly, kissing his way back up again, their mouths meeting, Reid’s open to welcome him. “I might be convinced.”
Reid half laughs, half pants, pulling Morgan back in for another kiss, curling his legs around Morgan’s own. He’s draped around like decorations on a Christmas Tree, all glimmer and glitter in the morning sun, “You? You aren’t convinced of anything until you see it with your own two eyes.”
“Right,” Morgan agrees, both hands moving to push Reid’s hair back, look straight through him. “And if I woke up to you on Christmas morning, I think I could be convinced.”
There’s a smile stretched across Reid’s face, broken only by Morgan’s kiss.
-end-
Author: mijmeraar
Pairing: Reid/Morgan
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show. Or Coca Cola.
AN: If any Reid!Facts have giant holes in them, please let me know. This is really, really fluffy [in case you need warning] - a nice warm Christmas fic. Hope you like it and hope you have a fantastic Christmas yourselves.
Reid has his limbs curled lazily around Morgan and his mouth open at his ear, breathing heavy, breathing deep, asking, “Can I tell you now?” in a worn out, fucked thin voice. Morgan laughs despite himself, fingers drawing secret patterns on Reid’s back, secret four letter words even a genius cannot translate.
“Do I have a choice?” is his response, but his smile is genuine, is heart all in, and he could never say no to Reid, anyway. Reid moves in closer, gently raises his head, his mouth running along the shell of Morgan’s ear. He knows how to play Morgan, and Morgan likes it.
“Santa Claus is actually just a deviation from Sinterklaas, or Saint Nicholas, who was a Dutch saint. The patron saint, actually, to many groups; including sailors, merchants, archers and, of course, children.” Reid shifts, moving his hand so that it rests at Morgan’s collar bone. His finger traces idly along, as if second nature, as if he’s been here many times, knows every hill and every line. Everything.
“Contrast to the myth of Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas actually existed, during the fourth century AD. He was believed to have given secret gifts, especially to those who were in desperate need. Of course, some stories have been exaggerated to show the man as other worldly, carrying out tasks that were beyond the power of normal men.”
“So we just took up all the fantastical parts and turned him into a jolly fat man that slides down chimneys?”
Reid laughs, gentle and warm, like the fingers he moves slowly downward, “It was a much slower process than that, I’m afraid. Early settlers carried their childhood memories with them on arriving here, but it wasn’t until the 18th century when the idea was slowly transformed into … well, the jolly fat man, as you said.”
“The same jolly fat man making wealthy people wealthier.” Morgan says plainly, the hand that had been tracing Reid’s back, now in the other man's hair. Twirling and curling around his fingers, soft, already mussed from where it had been balled in Morgan’s fists just moments before.
“Yes, his image has been seriously commercialised.”
“No kidding? He was trying to sell me Coke when I was a kid.”
“Trying?”
Morgan looked over to Reid with his brow creased, Reid just smirking shrewdly, his hand now playing at Morgan’s hip bones, “Okay, so I wanted the Coke that Santa was selling. I was six. Sue me.”
“You know, it’s 75 years since Coca Cola began its Santa Clause campaign. Many argue that Coca Cola were the first to depict Santa as he is now - fat and jolly - but - "
“Reid.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”
“Well, no, obviously I - ” Morgan laughs, grabbing Reid by the upper thigh and twisting him around so that his backs hit the mattress, Morgan above him. Reid looks up, big eyes and pouted lips, the whole reindeer and headlights that lured Morgan in the first place. Morgan kisses at Reid’s neck, dragging his mouth slowly down to the collar and nipping gently.
“I don’t know,” Morgan says gruffly, kissing his way back up again, their mouths meeting, Reid’s open to welcome him. “I might be convinced.”
Reid half laughs, half pants, pulling Morgan back in for another kiss, curling his legs around Morgan’s own. He’s draped around like decorations on a Christmas Tree, all glimmer and glitter in the morning sun, “You? You aren’t convinced of anything until you see it with your own two eyes.”
“Right,” Morgan agrees, both hands moving to push Reid’s hair back, look straight through him. “And if I woke up to you on Christmas morning, I think I could be convinced.”
There’s a smile stretched across Reid’s face, broken only by Morgan’s kiss.
-end-