{fic} Teach Me How To Be Loved (part two)

[reidaholic]

(part one)



When Morgan steps into the briefing room, the only other person present is hiding under a blanket. The only part of his body that isn’t hidden by the thick fabric is his feet, peeking from under the table, and the mismatched socks betray the hider’s identity immediately.

Morgan shakes his head, something between amused and confused, and makes his way to Reid. He yanks the blanket away in one swift movement and, completely mortified, Reid gazes at him from under a mess of brown hair.

“I was hiding,” he says with his voice thick with annoyance as tries to pull the blanket back from Morgan. Unfortunately his physical strength doesn’t even begin to compare with Morgan’s and after a while of hopeless struggling, he begrudgingly gives up. “I question your abilities as a profiler, Derek. Physically covering yourself from your surroundings indicates a strong desire to be left alone.”

Morgan laughs and leans closer to push away the locks of hair from Reid’s eyes, tucking them gently behind his ear. Reid stiffens at the touch, taken aback by the suddenness of the affectionate gesture.

“If you truly wanted to be left alone, you would’ve chosen a place where you’re actually alone,” Morgan says, amused. “Given the fact that you’re in a room where a group is about to gather soon indicates that you don’t actually want to be left alone but are looking to be noticed, instead. So, I question why.”

Reid shifts uncomfortably, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout of annoyance. He seems determined to keep quiet about whatever is on his mind but he gives in eventually, his determined expression turning into that of mild defeat. In a feeble voice, he finally says: “I was out with the girls last night.”

Morgan pulls himself a chair beside Reid and sits down. From experience, he knows there’s only one relevant question he needs to ask.  “What’d they make you do?”

“They...” Reid starts, then pauses briefly to clear his throat. His expression is that of deep discomfort.  “They made me talk to this... woman.”

Morgan tries not to smirk, he really does. He tries to concentrate on all kinds of serious business like serial killers and missing children and Hotch’s typical non-smiling face but he can’t fight off the smirk, just can’t, with the mental image of JJ, Prentiss and Garcia urging poor awkward Reid to hit on some overly confident woman that you so often see in the nightclub circles. It’s just way too hilarious. Sad, but hilarious nonetheless.

“And?” Morgan prods Reid into continuing. His voice is strained with laughter.

“And...” Reid pauses again to draw a breath, “And I did find the courage to approach her but she walked away in the middle of my sentence.” Embarrassment floods his face in varying shades of red.

“I’m afraid to ask but what did you say to her?”

“Well, she was a blonde,” Reid says, scratching the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “So I immediately thought of an interesting but rather informal study about men’s hair colour preferences when it comes to women- basically it concluded that men are more attracted to women with brown hair because they associate the colour with intelligence, while as blondes are often approached with only sexual intent and are assumed to be-”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Morgan cuts in, finding himself in a state of somewhere between amusement and incredulity. “You actually said that to her? You basically called her a slut?”

“I prefer the word ‘promiscuous’ and well, I didn’t call her that, I just-”

Morgan raises a finger to stop Reid mid-sentence. “Kiddo, you might as well have called her a slut. That’s how she heard it anyway.”

Reid purses his lips the way he always does when he’s embarrassed, and Morgan finds himself feeling sorry for the kid - he really is pretty helpless when it comes to women. Or love. Or relationships in general, actually, because he’s about as socially skilled as a cement wall.

Morgan heaves a sigh, shaking his head, and pokes Reid in the ribs. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”

Reid squirms away from Morgan and lowers his head. He no longer looks embarrassed or humiliated, only a little defeated, as if having given up on ever figuring out how to interact with someone he’s attracted to. The sight overwhelms Morgan with compassion, and the need to protect Reid is there again, raw and alive, wrenching at his heart.

“Hey,” Morgan says, placing a finger under Reid’s chin to lift his head up. “You’re pretty awesome the way you are. Someone will realize that sooner or later.”

The barest hint of a smile lifts the corners of Reid’s lips, and his eyes shine with a light that wasn’t there before. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to, either, because Morgan is perfectly happy with the change in expression alone, happy to know he was able to say something to improve Reid’s mood. He wants to see the young genius happy. Smiling. Laughing. He adores the sound of Reid’s laughter.

His finger is still placed under Reid’s chin and he knows it’s inappropriate, he knows anyone could walk in any minute, but the knowledge alone isn’t enough to make him draw away. He doesn’t want to. Instead, he traces the line of Reid’s jaw up to his ear, then to his cheekbones, and back down to right above his upper lip. That’s where he stops, hesitant.

Reid sits perfectly still, not drawing away but not initiating anything either, his eyes widened and breathing shallow. Morgan pulls his finger away and places his hand on the side of Reid’s face, all the while feeling like he’s being controlled by some outer force that he can’t even as much as communicate with. He’s just doing this. He’s doing what he’s wanted to do all along and he can’t stop himself, not right now, not anymore.

The man’s cheeks glow with a faint shade of red that feels hot against Morgan’s palm. Now or never, right?

He breathes in slowly through his mouth, his heart thudding madly against his ribs as he closes the distance between them.

The kiss is tentative and brief, so very brief, but it lingers on Morgan’s lips long after he’s drawn away. He never moves far, though, making sure to stay close enough to feel Reid’s hot, unsteady breath caressing his face. The feel of it is amazing, making him crave Reid like he never has before, with the kind of intensity that makes his head spin. Their lips remain parted for only a little while; he’s barely had a chance to take a breath before he feels Reid’s hand clutching at the front of his shirt, hastily pulling him into another kiss.

Morgan’s mouth opens slightly in surprise as Reid’s lips meet his, this time without any of the earlier hesitancy - and man, can Reid kiss! The way his mouth moves against Morgan’s makes all thought flee Morgan’s head, and the only thing he concentrates on is their embraced breaths and entangled tongues. He moves his hand from the side of Reid’s face to his hair, running his fingers through the soft curls while Reid’s hand is moving on his chest in small, teasing circles, and the touch makes Morgan mad with desire. He wants to feel Reid, all of him, not just his mouth and breath and fingers - he wants their bodies to touch, he wants to press against Reid with every inch of his being and never draw away. He’s never wanted anyone more in his entire life.

He has to have Reid right there and then. Driven by the thought, he lets his hand wander to Reid’s inner thigh, slowly moving his fingers towards the man’s crotch.

“Wait,” Reid mumbles into his mouth, “We can’t-” he pauses to moan softly as Morgan’s hand finally finds its destination, “Morgan, we can’t.”

Morgan pulls away hesitantly, far enough to be able to look into Reid’s eyes. Fear clutches at his heart. “We can’t?”

“No,” Reid says breathlessly, “We can’t. Not here.”

Right, they’re in the briefing room. About to be briefed. Their team is going to appear any minute now and they’re gonna start working on a case and for Pete’s sake, the curtains aren’t even properly closed.

Startled by the realization, Morgan pulls away and tries to settle a more neutral expression to his face - in other words, an expression that doesn’t suggest that he’s spent the last five minutes indulged in a passionate kiss with his male co-worker. Reid’s fussing beside him, trying to make his hair look less bedroom-y.

Easier said than done.

The minutes that follow are agonizing. All Morgan wants to do is press Reid against the table and- well, do some extremely inappropriate things that include the both of them stark naked. He tries to think about something else, quite unsuccessfully so as it takes forever before the tightness in his jeans no longer threatens to rip the fabric open.

Prentiss is the first to appear, followed by Hotch and Rossi, and lastly JJ who’s carrying a pile of case files in her hands. Every single one of the team members regards Reid and Morgan with a suspicious look before sitting down. Morgan pushes the chair closer to the table, just as a precautionary measure in case he gets another hard-on.

He prays to God that no one will figure out what took place in the room only a few minutes before.

It’s Reid’s first case since the anthrax-incident, and Morgan finds an excuse to follow him everywhere. It’s not really a matter of whether he wants to step away from Reid - it’s more like he can’t because he’s afraid something will happen the moment he does. So, to the younger man’s great embarrassment, Morgan stays by his side for the entire three days that it takes for them to solve the case. He even makes sure to get one of those joined hotel rooms in case Reid needs something - which he doesn’t but hey, one can never be too careful. Morgan checks on him anyway, a little too many times than Reid would prefer.

When the case is solved and it’s time to head back to Quantico, they are too tired to even carry a conversation. Everyone attempts to find a good spot on the jet, either to sleep or to engage in some other relaxing activity.

Reid’s reserved himself one of the wider seats, and he’s in the process of setting himself a place to sleep in when Morgan approaches him.

“Seriously?” Reid says in exasperation as Morgan sits beside him. There’s plenty of space elsewhere, too, much more secluded seats to rest in, but Morgan’s determined to stay with Reid till they land. He’s well-aware of how annoying his constant babying is but he can’t help it. He just can’t.

“Yes, Dr. Reid?” Morgan asks in a light tone of faked surprise. “Is there something wrong?”

“Morgan,” Reid enunciates the name slowly and carefully, all the while glaring at Morgan with a look that makes his annoyance plain. “Please go drink coffee or something. I’m just gonna take a nap, okay?”

“I don’t want coffee,” Morgan says. He grabs a hold of Reid’s legs and, despite the younger man’s efforts to resist, manages to place them on his lap. He notes that one of Reid’s socks is bright yellow and the other one’s light blue with white stripes. “Much more comfortable this way, isn’t it?” He smiles sheepishly.

It takes a very intense three-minute staring contest before Reid gives up, heaving a resigned sigh as he relaxes his legs on Morgan’s lap and lets his head fall back against the wall. “Whatever.” He crosses his arms across his chest and closes his eyes.

Morgan grins. “Sleep tight, pretty boy.”

It doesn’t take long until the team’s wrapped in comfortable silence, the members either sleeping or absorbed in various personal activities. Reid’s fallen asleep with his chin pressed against his chest, his lips slightly parted as he breaths the slow, heavy breathing of someone sound asleep. He looks peaceful.

Beautiful.

Morgan spends the rest of the flight staring at Reid’s sleeping face, trying his very best to subdue the urge to kiss him.

Morgan would be lying if he said he hasn’t been avoiding Reid since their intimate moment in the briefing room. He just doesn’t know how to approach the other one anymore without doing something morally questionable like French-tonguing Reid in front of the entire team. He doesn’t know how to be Reid’s friend or co-worker anymore, he just can’t. It seems impossible to him.

So, after all his efforts to avoid alone-time with Reid, it’s understandable that he should feel awkward standing beside the man in an otherwise empty elevator. It’s beyond awkward, actually, especially since Reid’s making sure to stand unnecessarily close to him in the relatively sizeable elevator.

Neither of them has spoken a word since the hasty ‘good morning’ they exchanged when Reid entered the elevator moments earlier. Reid has seemed mad over the past couple of weeks but now he’s just uncomfortable, as if wishing he could escape the situation as soon as possible.

Morgan shifts his weight from one foot to another as he struggles to find something, anything to say because the silence has wrapped around them like a dark, suffocating blanket, and it couldn’t possibly be any more awkward than it already is. Furthermore, he doesn’t want it to be like this between him and Reid anymore. He wants them to be like before. Or well, to be perfectly honest, he wants something more than they were before but anything is better than this horrible, ear shattering silence.

Morgan closes his eyes briefly. Concentrate.

“You sleep well?” he asks, making sure not to as much as glance in Reid’s direction as he does. Briefly, he notes that the elevator seems to move much, much slower than before.

“Yeah,” Reid says. His voice betrays the calmness he’s trying to exude, as his voice always gets almost unnaturally high when he’s nervous. “And you?”

Morgan clears his throat. “Yeah.” Again, in lack of anything better to do or say, he shifts - only this time it causes his hand to press against Reid’s, their fingers meeting in a warm, brief touch.

He freezes.

Reid freezes.

Awkward.

Neither of them inches away, but what remains vague is whether it’s because they’re unable to move or because they want to stand there with their hands touching. Morgan, himself, is not sure. All he knows is that it feels incredibly good to touch Reid again, even if only briefly and without promises of anything more. He’s missed the touch of Reid’s skin against his more than he’s ever realized. He thinks about the days they’ve spent distancing themselves from one another, the time they’ve spent avoiding eye-contact and any physical touch. It’s been hell. It’s been... horrible.

Morgan can’t stand it anymore, he just can’t. Frustrated, he leaps forward and presses the stop button, making the elevator come to an abrupt halt.

“What are you- you know I hate elevators!” Reid squeals, wide-eyed. He presses tightly against the wall, staring at Morgan in a state of surprise.

“We need to talk,” Morgan says, closing the distance between them in a few swift, impatient steps. He’s standing inappropriately close to Reid but it doesn’t matter because everything between them is inappropriate right now, has been from the moment they kissed, and they need to solve it. Now.

“What happened,” Morgan starts, then pauses abruptly because he has absolutely no idea how to continue the sentence. What happened can never happen again? No, that’s not what he wants to say. The truth is that he wants to kiss Reid a million times again. He wants Reid in his apartment, in his bed, in his future. Reid needs to be there, and not just as a co-worker or a friend, he needs to be there as a lover. A companion.

Morgan bites his lip. “Reid... what happened was... it was something that we should talk about before... before things get any weirder or-” His feeble attempt to form an understandable sentence is interrupted by Reid’s finger, pressed on his lips to hush him.

Their eyes lock, and Morgan is surprised to see that Reid no longer has that frightened look in his eyes - in fact, he seems relaxed, comfortable, and something else that Morgan as a profiler should be able to recognize but he doesn’t, he can’t, too distracted by the finger that rests on his parted lips ever so gently. Randomly, it dawns on him that Reid, the man who’s so weird about touching that he doesn’t even shake hands with people, has never had an issue with Morgan touching him - and Morgan touches him a lot, always has.

And now Reid’s finger is on Morgan’s mouth.

Morgan almost expects a detailed ramble about the bacteria that gathers in the human mouth.

Rather suddenly, Reid draws his hand away, and Morgan is convinced it’s because his germaphobic side has kicked in and freaked him out - which is why he’s beyond delighted to notice that he’s wrong, and that Reid only drew his hand away to place his it on Morgan’s waist. Morgan shivers slightly at the touch, and even more so when Reid pulls him closer with strength Morgan never knew he had.

Their breaths are but swift, nervous inhales and exhales of air as they stand there with but an insignificantly small space separating their bodies, and Morgan doesn’t know how to move, or think, or anything except feel Reid.

Feel, touch, hear, smell... taste. The mere thought of it makes his heart do a complete somersault and, instinctively, he wets his lips to ready himself for the kiss that he knows is coming.

And it does. Reid’s lips press against Morgan’s, and the first gingerly kiss turns into two, three, four, the kisses more passionate after each brief separation, each pause for air. Morgan’s hands grab a hold of Reid’s waist and push him against the wall, roughly and possessively, and the both of them draw a sharp gasp as they collapse against the wall in an uncontrollable tangle of limbs and tongues and fingers. Morgan doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he lets them roam on Reid’s body - and Reid’s hands are doing the exact same on his.

They part for air, this time for a longer while than before.

“You were saying?” Reid mumbles against his lips, his fingers on the side of Morgan’s neck, caressing the skin in soft, teasing circles.

Morgan tries to suppress a groan but to no avail, and it makes him embarrassed, or maybe just annoyed because Reid’s such a tease with his words and touches and wet kisses. He pushes Reid harder against the wall, their bodies now so tightly pressed against another that he’s not entirely sure where he ends and Reid begins.

Reid tries to kiss him again and does get his wish, but only for a passing moment before Morgan teasingly pulls away, leaving the younger man gasping for air. He runs his fingers up Reid’s inner thigh and this time it’s Reid who groans, pressing against Morgan’s fingers eagerly.

Morgan gives a victorious smirk and draws his hand away. “You like that, huh?” he teases, and his hand slips under Reid’s shirt, drawing patterns on his naked skin. He lets his fingers wander down, past Reid’s navel and even further downward until they near the waistband of his pants. Then, teasingly, he draws away, continuing the pattern until Reid looks about ready to come right there and then.

Reid’s squirming under the touch, and Morgan doesn’t hide the fact that every single thing Reid does in response to his movements is incredibly hot. It’s almost better than having Reid touch him.

Almost.

His hands grab Reid’s belt and the man is quick to protest, “Not here, Derek”, the words coming out in a hurried mess of syllables. Morgan grins as his fingers quickly and skilfully unfasten Reid’s belt and unzip his pants.

“Oops,” he exhales into Reid’s mouth. “You’re such a tease, Spencer. We need to do something about that, don’t we?”

The kiss that follows his desperate and wet and hot, so hot, and Morgan’s fingers find their way into Reid’s pants and past the waistband of his boxers. He whimpers quietly when his fingers come in contact with Reid’s hard length, and he cups it with his hand, but that’s all he does - he just leaves it there, unmoving, smirking to himself in an exaggerated manner of victory.

Reid whimpers in frustration, pushing his hips forward into Morgan’s hand.

“Who’s a tease now?” comes Reid’s breathless response and Morgan laughs, shutting Reid up by kissing him yet again.

“Morgan?”

Morgan has spent the past half an hour on piles of unfinished paperwork, only vaguely aware there are other people present in the office. Absent-minded, he lifts his head up to gaze at Reid who’s sitting across the table, hands folded over his chest in a rather rebellious manner.

“What’s up, pretty boy?”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Reid’s response comes fast and hurried, the words stumbling over one another in a haphazard manner. “I can take care of myself just fine without your Prince Charming act. In case it has slipped your mind, I’ve been through pretty much the same training as you have. Granted, I don’t have your physical strength but I’m equally capable of taking care of myself, okay?”

There’s stubbornness to his voice that makes Morgan abandon his paperwork and devote his full concentration on Reid. The young man’s eyes are cast down, fingers fiddling with a ballpoint pen and feet drumming an anxious rhythm on the floor. His forehead is creased in a thoughtful frown. His body language suggests not only intense nervousness and agitation, but also strongly indicates that Reid’s been preparing himself to confront Morgan for a long while now. He seems very eager to speak, and it’s clearly a struggle for him to wait for Morgan’s response.

Morgan sets the case file aside and leans his elbows against the table. “I know that, Reid.”

“Do you really?” Reid snaps, meeting Morgan’s gaze with challenging eyes. His nervousness is slowly changing into anger that shines in his eyes with a violent force. “This is my job and I can do it.”

Morgan finds himself slightly dumbfounded by the intensity of Reid’s emotions. Hoping to release the tension in the air a little, he reaches over the table to touch Reid’s hand but the man pulls away swiftly, pressing against the back of his seat as if in an attempt to get as far away from Morgan as physically possible.

It hurts a bit. Actually, more than a bit, but Morgan would never admit it so he tries to mask the expression on his face as something else than hurt. The rejection has turned into something ugly and unpleasant in his chest.

He raises a puzzled eyebrow at Reid. “No one’s ever claimed otherw-”

“Then stop babying me,” Reid snaps, and the angriness of his usually so very calm voice pierces through Morgan, leaving behind a stinging pain that makes it hard to breathe. He doesn’t know what to say or how to react, and this time it’s him who physically distances himself from Reid. The space between them, although not more than the width of the small table, makes him feel oddly empty and cold inside.

“I made a mistake,” Reid continues to fill the silence between them. Shifting in his seat, he brings a hand to his hair and combs his fingers through it in an agitated manner. “Every single member of this team has made a mistake at some point yet somehow I’m the one who gets babied for mine. Why? Because I’m the youngest? Because you perceive my age to make me somehow more vulnerable than you, that it makes me w-”

“Because we love you,” Morgan cuts in before Reid can finish the sentence. He’s starting to feel angry, too. “Not because you’re the youngest or because you’d be weak but because we love you, Reid.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I get different treatment than every other member of this team.”

“I don’t hear you asking this from the entire team,” Morgan says, not bothering to hide the mix of hurt and anger anymore; they echo with every letter and sound in a way that sounds rather ominous even in his own ears. “So obviously I’m the one you have a problem with.” He pauses. “Yes, I bend over backwards to protect you. I go to excessive lengths to make sure you’re safe and sure, it must seem like babying to you, but has it ever crossed your brilliant mind to think about the situation from my point of view? Does your IQ of 187 comprehend that losing you would shatter my entire world and that’s why I work so hard to keep you safe?”

His words are followed by a thick silence and as the seconds drag by, the anger hovering between them begins to sweep away. Morgan digs his nails into his palms, flooded by feelings of embarrassment and panic and intense discomfort because he certainly, not in a million years, meant to confess something like that to Reid. His mouth formed the words on its own and they slipped past his lips without his control, and now there’s nothing he can do to take them back.

Not that he’d necessarily want to - the cat’s out of the bag - but he’d certainly appreciate it if Reid would say something, anything, as opposed to just sitting there gaping at him. The silence is staring to hurt Morgan’s ears. He tries to think of something to say but nothing appropriate comes to his mind.

Reid wets his lips. “You know my IQ? That’s kinda creepy. Borderline stalker-y, even.”

That’s definitely not something Morgan expected to hear. Torn between bursting into laughter and slapping Reid out of sheer frustration, he shakes his head and says: “You are unbelievable, kiddo. And I don’t mean this in the good way.”

Reid’s face creases into a slightly bemused smile. Not a trace of his previous frustration and anger remains but he does seem a little awkward, shy even, as he lowers his gaze to stare down at his lap. He pushes back the curtain of brown hair from his face.

“Did you know that the origin of the word ‘shatter’ is Middle English, in the literal sense of scattering or dispersing, and it’s most likely imitative to-”

“Shut up before I slap you,” Morgan’s voice carries over Reid’s but it’s not aggressive or annoyed, just a soft interruption before Reid’s rambling gets out of hand like it so very often does. Morgan is so used to it by now that it hardly bothers him anymore. Not as much as before, at least. Reid’s constant demonstrations to prove his intellectual superiority haven’t ceased to be annoying but well, Reid is... Reid. Quirky and adorable and forever spamming them with random, overly detailed facts.

And right now, Reid is smiling and that’s all that matters to Morgan.

“We’re missing something,” Reid mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. “Something doesn’t add up.”

Morgan lays a pair of thoughtful eyes on Reid. The rest of the team focuses on the young genius, too, eager to hear anything that would help them solve the complicated case. They’ve been working non-stop on the case but they’re short on clues, and the atmosphere in the room is approaching that of desperation by now.

“Amaze us,” Prentiss says with a hint of amusement in her voice, her comment evoking a smile from both Rossi and Morgan.

“We concluded that the person we’re looking for is someone working in the field of psychiatry,” Reid begins explaining in the hurried way that is oh-so-typical for him. “All the abducted patients are extremely disturbed and considered dangerous enough to be located in high-security isolation rooms that only a restricted amount of the staff has access to.”

“That narrows our suspect pool,” Hotch says, nodding. “We have Garcia looking into the employees that fit those criteria.”

“The injuries inflicted on the victims -” Reid continues hastily and spins around to face the board, “- strongly suggest a narcissistic involvement. A malignant narcissist exhibits antisocial personality traits combined with unrestrained aggression-” he touches a picture of one of the most brutally mutilated women, “-and a strong need for power and recognition, as well as certain elements of sadism.”

“Our UnSub is a narcissist? That doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan mutters, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown of confusion. Prentiss, JJ, Hotch and Rossi are all staring at Reid with the exact same expression, trying to figure out where Reid’s getting at with his hurried ramble of information.

“Narcissists display an obvious self-focus in interpersonal exchanges,” Reid says, confirming Morgan’s observation. “A narcissist would never be able to function in a field of work that requires almost constant focus on someone other than themselves.”

“What are you saying, Spence?” JJ asks, studying Reid with thoughtful eyes. The discomfort that’s very often present on her face is there now, too, shadowing her beautiful features. Morgan takes a moment to consider all the cases JJ goes through on a daily basis, and how difficult it must be to prioritize them. He’s briefly overwhelmed by sympathy.

Reid looks away from the board, eyes moving from one team member to another as he draws in a quick breath and says: “I think our UnSub isn’t working alone.”

“They’re a team,” Rossi says slowly, eyes widened at the realization. “One of them abducts the women and delivers them to the UnSub who then tortures and kills them.”

“It makes sense,” Hotch replies, studying the pictures on the board with the usual stern expression on his face. “Narcissists are experts at interpersonal exploitation.”

“They could be in a relationship,” Morgan speculates. He’s tapping his fingers against the table in a nervous rhythm, his eyes darting from one picture to another as fragments of thoughts connect into ideas in his head. “A submissive partner could easily be manipulated into participating in a crime.” He dials Garcia’s number.

“At your service, gorgeous. What do you need?” Garcia’s familiar voice echoes from the speaker.

“Narrow down the search to employees in a registered relationship,” Morgan says. “We’re pretty sure this is the work of a team, possibly two people in a relationship.”

Morgan notes the way Reid’s body language has changed from concentrated yet relaxed to rigid and uncomfortable. His eyes, cold and almost hostile, are deeply focused on the phone on the table. Morgan feels obligated to ask what’s wrong with the man, but he also knows to prioritize the case - he can ask Reid about it later when an opportunity presents itself.

“That’s an interesting way to spice up your sex life,” Garcia says, heaving a sigh. “These sickos never fail to amaze me. And by amaze, I mean disgust.”

“I know, baby girl,” Morgan says softly, trying to gather his attention back to Garcia. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I thought you’d never ask, sweet cheeks,” Garcia’s voice but an alluring, husky whisper. “As a matter of fact, there’s something you can do to spice up my sex l-”

“Cross reference to medical information for signs of domestic abuse,” Reid cuts in, speaking up so quickly and unexpectedly that the entire room focuses on him. “This form of narcissism doesn’t allow people to control their violent impulses.”

The short silence that follows is one dedicated to staring at Reid in a slightly dumbfounded silence. Morgan bites the inside of his lip, the reason behind Reid’s behaviour finally dawning on him - he’s jealous. Agitated, he tries to communicate with Reid through his eyes, urging him to change his behaviour before the team figures out what’s going on. Reid is too obviously jealous, his hostile body language speaking even louder than his already loud words, and the team is already studying him with eyes so keen that they are bound to be on the verge of discovering the truth. After the incident in the briefing room a couple of weeks earlier... well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s really going on between Reid and Morgan, and these guys study human behaviour for a living.

They’re screwed.

And yet, on some partially subconscious level that Morgan is hesitant to acknowledge, he finds himself flattered by Reid’s unexpected reaction of sheer jealousy and possessiveness. It makes him experience that nervous feeling of having dozens of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, and he has to suppress the urge to lunge across the table to kiss Reid.

Jealous, angry Reid is a turn-on.

“Everything okay, Reid?” Garcia asks in a tone of something between surprise and concern and such an obvious amount of amusement that it makes Morgan fear the worst.

Reid clears his throat. “I just don’t think it’s entirely appropriate for you two to indulge in a sexually coloured discussion when we have five brutally mutilated victims and an extremely dangerous UnSub on the loose.”

“Spence...” JJ lets the sound of the name linger in the air, her face curved in a smile of bemusement. “They’ve been doing this forever. I had no idea it bothers you that much.”

The look on her face alarms Morgan and, struck by a sudden realization of how much the three women of the team spend time together, Morgan grimaces, cursing Garcia silently. She’s told them. He can see it with his mind’s eye, the three women sitting in some peaceful café downtown while discussing their perceptions on his and Reid’s relationships. He’s almost certain that there’s a bet, too. There’s always a bet.

His instincts kick in, and he’s about ready to flee the room the first chance he gets.

Reid lowers his head. “It doesn’t bother me, per se, it’s simply-”

“Inappropriate,” Prentiss finishes, also amused. “We got that part, Reid.”

Flustered, Reid opens his mouth but not a word comes out. The women regard him with a knowing look while Hotch and Rossi just stand there, clearly aware of what’s going on but refusing to get involved. Rossi looks amused, and Hotch just looks like he always does, stern and forever analyzing everything with his dark eyes. There’s a hint of amusement in the brown of his eyes though, even though he tries his best to conceal it.

“Actually, Reid,” Garcia says slowly, and the teasing edge to her voice makes Morgan shift in discomfort. He knows that voice. Not good. Not good at all. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, love.”

Reid frowns, suspicious. “It’s... it’s okay, Garcia. I’m just on edge today.”

“Inappropriate behaviour reminds me... I was looking through ithe security footage the other day,” Garcia says, still in that teasing tone, “You know, the BAU’s - it’s not my job but I hack into the system when I’m bored- and there’s something quite interesting that I stumbled upon the other day. In my personal opinion, the surveillance cameras in the elevator are the most fun to look at because people often aren’t aware that they’re there and...” Her voice trails off in a rather mysterious manner.

Morgan freezes, feeling all coherency drain out of him at the technical analyst’s words. Reid doesn’t look much better, staring at the phone with his mouth opened in a silent sound of shock, his body language having finally changed from openly hostile to that of great incoherency and surprise. Their eyes meet and they share a moment of panic, both thinking about what happened that day - and well, to sum it up, the video footage of what happened would be rated NC-17 by any country’s standards.

Especially the part where Morgan gave Reid a blow job, and the part that followed when he’d already come into Morgan’s mouth and Morgan was so aroused that a single touch of Reid’s fingers made him spill all over Reid’s pants and Reid had to undress his sweater to wrap it around his waist.

“That sounds fun but I really don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Morgan says, putting his best effort into sounding unaffected even though he knows it’s useless because he’s too panicked to control the fiddling of his fingers, let alone the tone of his voice. “I think Reid is right, we should just...” Just what, drop the subject so that his and Reid’s romantic and intensely sexual and forbidden relationship isn’t revealed to the entire team?

Prentiss and JJ exchange an amused look. Rossi looks something between uncomfortable and entertained, and Hotch looks worried, his piercing eyes shifting from Morgan to Reid in a way that suggests a conversation between the three of them to take place as soon as possible.

Morgan is humiliated. After all his years in BAU, how on earth, how could he possibly, forget about the surveillance cameras? How did he not consider that there’d be one in the elevator? Of course there is. It would be beyond ridiculous if there wasn’t.

“Really? ‘Cause I, myself, am intrigued by the-”

“Garcia,” Hotch interrupts the woman quickly, “Time is of essence here.”

“My apologies, sir,” Garcia replies, her voice back to as serious and professional as Garcia’s voice can possibly be. “I’ll work my magic and give you the results ASAP.”

The call disconnects. Morgan finds himself hopelessly stuck in a state of utter humiliation as he thinks about what Garcia’s seen, and what the other techs have seen and- no, actually, that’s something he doesn’t want to think about any further. Clearing his throat, he gets up, makes a feeble excuse about having to go to the bathroom and exits the room before anyone has a chance to say anything.

To his great relief, the bathroom is empty, and as soon as the door closes behind him, he heaves a sigh, leaning against the edge of the sink with his chin pressed against his chest. What now. His thoughts are running through his head in a disorganized manner and his heart is racing a hundred miles per hour. Somehow, no matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t know how to snap out of the panicked state. They have a case to solve.

Why does Reid have to make it so damn difficult for him to concentrate?

As if on cue, the door opens and Morgan jerks his head up to gaze at the person through the mirror. He’s not surprised to see Reid. In fact, he was hoping Reid would follow him.

They stare at one another and the silent communication between them is powerful enough to silence Morgan’s mind. He relaxes his body but continues to grasp the edge of the sink, afraid to stand without support.

Tentatively, Reid takes a step forward and places his hand on Morgan’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything but the fact that he’s touching Morgan is plenty enough, for now at least. His touch is safe and warm, comforting in all its simplicity, and Morgan sighs, flooded by a mass of such strong feelings that he’s forced to lower his head. He focuses on the still drops of water that have gathered at the bottom of the sink.

Reid presses against his back, hands wrapping around him, fingers clutching at the thick fabric of Morgan’s shirt. Morgan shivers, closing his eyes at the sensations that attack him like lightning bolts when Reid drops an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck, then leaves his lips there to graze at his skin. It feels heavenly. Reid feels heavenly, the weight of his body heavy and warm against Morgan’s.

He concentrates on listening to Reid’s breathing, and the sound of it brings him to a comfortable, sedate state. He allows himself to completely relax in the loving embrace, drawing his hands away from the sink to place them on Reid’s.

“Have you ever heard of a hug machine?” Reid asks softly. “Temple Grandin invented it in 1965 for individuals with autism spectrum disorders. It’s designed for sensory relief.”

“Believe it or not, Reid, I read,” Morgan hums. “I know what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’m autistic and you’re like my hug machine?”

Reid chuckles. “No. This situation just reminded me of that.” He pauses, smirking against Morgan’s skin as their fingers entwine. “Not that I mind being your hug machine.”

“I don’t mind that, either.”

Morgan pushes Reid softly away and turns around to face him, gazing gently into his eyes before pressing his lips against Reid’s. The kiss is soft and loving and appreciative, and for the first time since all the kisses they’ve shared, Morgan finds the time and patience to appreciate all the little details that surround him; the softness of Reid’s lips and how skilfully they move against his, the hands that know just where to touch him, the scent of his shampoo that tickles Morgan’s nose. The previous feelings of embarrassment and confusion disappear as quickly as they appeared, and he doesn’t spare a single thought to the future or the consequences of their relationship. Everything else besides Reid seems trivial. Nothing else matters. He feels so many different things at the same time that he doesn’t know how to be, how to act, or how to ever stop kissing Reid.

Then again, kissing Reid seems like an excellent way to spend the rest of his life.