Coming Undone [1/?]
Title: Coming Undone [1/?]
Author: freakingdork
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Morgan-centric for the moment
Word Count: 628
General references to: 2x12-18, 2x23-3x03
Warnings: extremely vague references to previous sexual abuse
Summary: “It's not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have found it.” After confronting his abuser, Morgan struggles with his sexuality.
****
He tried to ignore it, that vague feeling signaling that his world was slowly tipping on its head.
It was easy at first. Only a few days after Chicago, they were in Nevada with Frank. The week after that they were in Georgia, watching Reid being tortured via webcam. Then Reid's drug addiction filled his mind until he asked Derek for help kicking the habit. Not long after that, Frank came back to haunt them and Gideon left and his fear that Reid would turn to drugs kept him busy.
And yet, even the serious distractions of work were no match for that nagging question, so he filled in the cracks the best ways he knew how. If he's on call, it's pulling out sinks, lifting weights at the gym, or pounding pavement with his music cranked as loud as he can stand it until he can't breathe anymore, let alone think. When he's on stand down, it's clubs, dancing, booze, and women.
Even the healthiest of coping mechanisms can become unhealthy and he's quick to acknowledge that lately he's bordering on the negative side of things. That's not what worries him. No, what concerns him most is that instead of trying to forget unsubs, he's trying to forget himself.
****
Since it's not going away, he decides to prove it's not true.
He's out drinking when he comes up with the idea, so Derek stumbles through the streets until he happens upon a gay bar. Grabbing a beer is natural, even if the bartender is making eyes at him. In fact, he notices most of the men are staring at him, which he realizes is only fair, considering how unabashedly he's been watching the dance floor. Derek feels like he can't take his eyes off them, their bodies slick with sweat and moving with that familiar practiced ease. The longing to join in is surprising and the strength of it confuses him further.
He's only there for a few minutes before his beer and purpose are forgotten as he rushes out into the cool night air.
****
He decides the gay bar doesn't count because he's used to associating liquor and dancing with sex. There has to be something else, some other way to really know for sure.
And what better way to prove it than to watch gay porn while sober?
****
The porn doesn't count. It doesn't.
Straight men can get aroused by watching two men fuck. Hell, they can even jerk off to it and still be straight.
At least he's pretty sure Garcia or Reid said something like that before.
****
Which is how Derek ends up at another gay bar, his hands sliding from a flat chest down to the slender, gyrating hips of his partner. When he looks up and sees a strong, sharp jawline, it doesn't bother him. He doesn't even mind the wide, masculine hands resting near the base of his skull or the erection pressed up against his thigh. No, it's the white-hot desire in the other man's eyes that has him panicked.
Because he feels the same.
****
From there, he does the logical thing - he goes to another bar and ends up in bed with the first woman who propositions him.
The fact that he can't get it up doesn't mean anything.
****
Except it does, it all means something and he knows it. The growing body of evidence is damning and he can't exactly avoid it anymore. It's not like he'd never questioned his sexuality, but wet dreams about men meant nothing in the face of the nausea he felt when he was awake. Apparently, confronting Buford was cathartic enough to make that all but disappear.
And now that he knows, Derek feels more lost than he was before.
Author: freakingdork
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Morgan-centric for the moment
Word Count: 628
General references to: 2x12-18, 2x23-3x03
Warnings: extremely vague references to previous sexual abuse
Summary: “It's not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have found it.” After confronting his abuser, Morgan struggles with his sexuality.
****
He tried to ignore it, that vague feeling signaling that his world was slowly tipping on its head.
It was easy at first. Only a few days after Chicago, they were in Nevada with Frank. The week after that they were in Georgia, watching Reid being tortured via webcam. Then Reid's drug addiction filled his mind until he asked Derek for help kicking the habit. Not long after that, Frank came back to haunt them and Gideon left and his fear that Reid would turn to drugs kept him busy.
And yet, even the serious distractions of work were no match for that nagging question, so he filled in the cracks the best ways he knew how. If he's on call, it's pulling out sinks, lifting weights at the gym, or pounding pavement with his music cranked as loud as he can stand it until he can't breathe anymore, let alone think. When he's on stand down, it's clubs, dancing, booze, and women.
Even the healthiest of coping mechanisms can become unhealthy and he's quick to acknowledge that lately he's bordering on the negative side of things. That's not what worries him. No, what concerns him most is that instead of trying to forget unsubs, he's trying to forget himself.
****
Since it's not going away, he decides to prove it's not true.
He's out drinking when he comes up with the idea, so Derek stumbles through the streets until he happens upon a gay bar. Grabbing a beer is natural, even if the bartender is making eyes at him. In fact, he notices most of the men are staring at him, which he realizes is only fair, considering how unabashedly he's been watching the dance floor. Derek feels like he can't take his eyes off them, their bodies slick with sweat and moving with that familiar practiced ease. The longing to join in is surprising and the strength of it confuses him further.
He's only there for a few minutes before his beer and purpose are forgotten as he rushes out into the cool night air.
****
He decides the gay bar doesn't count because he's used to associating liquor and dancing with sex. There has to be something else, some other way to really know for sure.
And what better way to prove it than to watch gay porn while sober?
****
The porn doesn't count. It doesn't.
Straight men can get aroused by watching two men fuck. Hell, they can even jerk off to it and still be straight.
At least he's pretty sure Garcia or Reid said something like that before.
****
Which is how Derek ends up at another gay bar, his hands sliding from a flat chest down to the slender, gyrating hips of his partner. When he looks up and sees a strong, sharp jawline, it doesn't bother him. He doesn't even mind the wide, masculine hands resting near the base of his skull or the erection pressed up against his thigh. No, it's the white-hot desire in the other man's eyes that has him panicked.
Because he feels the same.
****
From there, he does the logical thing - he goes to another bar and ends up in bed with the first woman who propositions him.
The fact that he can't get it up doesn't mean anything.
****
Except it does, it all means something and he knows it. The growing body of evidence is damning and he can't exactly avoid it anymore. It's not like he'd never questioned his sexuality, but wet dreams about men meant nothing in the face of the nausea he felt when he was awake. Apparently, confronting Buford was cathartic enough to make that all but disappear.
And now that he knows, Derek feels more lost than he was before.