Chapter Text
“A popular theory among leading astrophysicists estimates that the hyper-matter reactor would need about ten to the thirty-second joules of energy to destroy a planet the size of earth,” Reid said, his hands darting through the air as he illustrated his point.
Prentiss threw an aggrieved look in their direction even though Morgan had in no way started the boy wonder off on this latest tangent - nor had he encouraged him, not having looked up from the file clasped fiercely in his hands despite the fact that he hadn't read a single word since Reid started talking.
“Now, Lucas said it took 19 years to build the first Death Star, right?” Reid asked rhetorically, oblivious to his companion’s all but aggressive indifference.
Morgan glanced up involuntarily - good manners were hard to fight - and the sight of an animated Reid hovering over him, perched as he was on the edge of the desk, was almost more than he could take.
A hot feeling that he refused to admit was a blush was crawling up his chest and Morgan desperately cast around for a distraction. His eyes settled on the workman with his paint roller heading away from Rossi's new office and he heaved an almost audible sigh of relief.
“If you look at the universal chronology, there’s a tested prototype for Superlaser-”
Morgan threw the file in his hand on the desk and got up, cutting the younger man off mid sentence.
“Where are you going?” Reid demanded, obviously unaware that Morgan had been pointedly ignoring him as much as possible for the last however long he had been going on.
“Taking back the last five minutes of my life,” Morgan tossed over his shoulder as he walked away. He only managed not to break into a run through sheer strength of will and the knowledge that there were several pairs of eyes focused on his back as he went up the stairs. They probably all thought he was checking up on their new so-called teammate and that was fine with him.
The second he hit the top step he took a sharp turn and hustled along until he was out of sight. The thought of trying to return to the bullpen where everyone would notice and most likely comment on his flustered state was sheer torture.
He was scanning doors for a likely place to hide out for the next few minutes while he got himself back under control when his phone rang. He put it to his ear and answered with a distracted, “Morgan,” as he kept walking, stiff-legged and desperate.
“Trouble, sugar cakes?” Garcia asked brightly.
“Not right now, baby doll,” Morgan groaned. “I've got a slight issue here.”
“Anything to do with tall, pale and nerdy following you about a half a corridor back and looking to turn the corner real quick?”
“Shit,” Morgan muttered and darted into the first room that came to hand.
A claustrophobic little cleaning closet, as it turned out. Just great.
“Anything I can do to help, my sweet?” Garcia asked with a playful coo in her voice.
“No, and I thought I told you to stop monitoring the surveillance feeds inside the building?” Morgan kept his voice low and laid his hand lightly on the back of the door so he would know if someone were about to open it.
Not that it would do him much good since there was no where to hide.
“Hmm, and miss out on all the fun you guys have up there while I’m stuck down here in my little cave?”
“I thought you liked your cave?”
“Of course I like my cave. It's got a swanky new map and everything. Doesn't mean I don’t miss out on all kinds of interesting things though.”
“Like watching us pour over case files like good little drones?” Morgan asked sourly.
“Like watching you beat a hilariously hasty retreat from the junior G-man,” she countered, voice unruffled. “And why was that precisely?” she asked, a thread of evil humor lacing her voice.
“Because he bores me to tears when he starts going on about math and science and statistics?” Morgan offered desperately. “Even more so when its based on imaginary universes?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Garcia laughed. “Were you bored to tears? Or do you perhaps have a slightly different reaction when Reid’s voice is droning incessantly in your ear?”
“Garcia,” Morgan bit out in warning.
“A problem that perhaps made it a little difficult to run despite the fact that you were obviously fleeing the scene of the crime?” she continued unmercifully.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan snarled.
“Oh, I think you do, gorgeous,” Garcia said with a fond laugh. “And I think you've been dealing with this ‘little problem’ for a while.”
“Garcia, I-”
“Morgan?” Reid’s voice came through the door hollowly.
“Oops,” Garcia giggled. “Maybe you shouldn't have told me to stop watching the video feeds quite so soon, honey bunches.”
“Traitor,” Morgan snapped.
“Excuse me?” Reid’s voice sounded confused and Morgan could imagine the expression on his face. The furrowed brow and slightly pouty lips whenever he didn't immediately understand something always put Morgan in mind of a kitten faced with a particularly hoppy bug.
Morgan stifled a groan. His mind was quite obviously broken if even that thought was making it hard for him to concentrate beyond the state of his pants. A state that was not easing despite the ridiculousness of the situation he was being faced with.
“No, not you, Reid,” Morgan said, raising his voice to be heard more clearly through the door. “You are going to pay for this,” he told Garcia in a low, dark tone.
“Gonna have to catch me first, darlin’,” she drawled before hanging up with a twinkling little laugh.
“Morgan, are you okay?” Reid’s voice came again, concerned.
“Yeah, just… Just give me a second, okay?” Morgan asked, his voice strangled.
He put his back to the door and tried to will his wayward reaction to their resident genius away so he could face said man without blushing like a horny teen greeting his crush. No matter how apt a description that may be.
He had no idea how it had happened, honestly. The two of them had been working together for a couple years with no issues or underlying currents. They had been through tough cases, the loss of teammates, personal tragedies and so much more.
And yet despite all these issues, or maybe because of them, everything had remained the same between the two of them. The suave older brother with the annoying younger one always tagging along, getting in the way. It was their thing.
If Morgan had maybe noticed once in a while that his mind seemed to drift when Reid was spouting off some long-winded fact, well… Status quo, as far as anyone was concerned.
Morgan had never resisted a chance to roll his eyes behind Reid’s back when the kid got a really good head of steam going and he still teased Reid unmercifully at every opportunity. Like an older brother, Morgan’s brain insisted, not like a little boy tugging on a girl’s pigtails.
No one said that being a profiler meant you were incapable of hiding things from yourself and Morgan had always been very good at denial.
Up to a point.
Which is why he was currently trapped in a supply closet while the object of several recent and fairly intense wet dreams stood on the other side of the door. And here was Morgan desperately trying to tell his body to sit down and shut up long enough for him to pull himself together and get out of here with what little dignity he could manage to scrape off the floor.
“I’m sorry.” Reid’s voice was muffled, as if he hadn't meant to say anything and so hadn't made his voice loud enough to penetrate into the room/closet.
“For what, pretty boy?” Morgan asked absently.
An embarrassed cough floated through the door and then Reid’s voice stammered out, “I, uh… heh, funny thing, really, if you think about it. I mean, maybe it’s funny. Or, uh, not… But I’m, uhm, hoping for at least flattering because, well… Flattering won’t get me punched in the face, I think. I hope.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there,” Morgan cut in. “Who’s punching you in the face?”
“Erh, you? Maybe? But I hope not?”
“Why would I punch you in the face?” Morgan asked slowly, each word spaced out as he tried to make sense of Reid’s rambling.
“Well, I, uh…” Reid hedged for a second, then continued on in a rush of words. “Maybe noticed you reacting to the way I tend to babble when I go on about 'sciencey stuff,' as you put it, and took it as you, erh… Heh, yeah, I probably took it the wrong way because why would you be turned on by my driveling on about utter nonsense. So maybe I should just stop talking now that we've established that I’m an utter idiot and, yeah…”
Morgan’s face felt like it was going to crack in two from how hard he was grinning. So Reid had noticed him reacting - and Morgan so did not want to think about what that meant for the likelihood of the rest of the team knowing about his ‘little problem,’ as Garcia had so kindly put it - and had tried to force the issue with a long-winded lecture in aid of… what, precisely?
“Reid?” Morgan called out, the silence having stretched out long enough for him to not to be sure whether the young man was still there or currently hightailing it out of the building in mortification.
“Yes?” Reid answered hesitantly.
“If I admit to siding more with the ‘flattered’ side of things than the ‘punching you in the face’ side of things will you tell me why you decided to perform thought experiments on me in front of all our coworkers?” Morgan may be falling hard for the BAU's boy genius but that did not mean he wasn't about to add psychological mind games to the moratorium they had on profiling each other.
“Technically what I was doing was not a thought experiment. A thought experiment implies a theoretical component, its an experiment more commonly performed in the abstract. The most famous being the case of Schrödinger's cat, where the idea of actually performing the experiment was relatively abhorrent but the main concept was still-”
“Reid,” Morgan cut in again before he developed a bigger ‘little problem.’ "Not helping."
“Sorry?” Reid offered, his tone more questioning than apologetic.
Morgan gave a faint snort of amusement and let his head fall back until it thumped against the door. God, how he had tried to keep his distance from this smart, stubborn, ridiculous, engaging, infuriating, remarkable young man. He’d been fighting a rearguard action for much longer than he cared to admit.
“Back up there a little. I’m coming out, ok?”
Morgan opened the door to see Reid standing on the other side of the corridor staring rather intently at his shoes.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. No more denying his attraction if even the faint blush he could see creeping up the long pale column of Reid’s neck was causing heat to pool low in his gut.
“So for the sake of argument let’s just say that you weren't wrong in your interpretation of my reaction to you spouting out your ‘sciencey stuff,’” Morgan said quietly. “And we can move on to how you’re maybe not weirded out by that fact.”
“Did you know that thirty-eight percent of people admit to dating a coworker?” Reid asked apropos of nothing, still not looking up. “Though the data may be slightly skewed due to the fact that thirty-seven percent of those people admitted to having kept their relationship a secret so the number of completely unreported relationships would statistically drive the numbers-”
“Reid,” Morgan growled out. “I know that techno-babble is like a second language to you but can we tone it down a little? I’m holding onto my self control by a thread here, man.”
“Why?” Morgan opened his mouth but Reid continued before he could say anything. “Why are you holding onto it?”
The young man lifted his head and, despite the blush that continued up to stain his cheeks a delightful pink, gave Morgan a pointed smirk.
“Oh, you are pushing it, pretty boy,” Morgan said as he reached out and grabbed the other man’s tie. He reeled Reid in slowly, giving him every opportunity to pull away if he wanted to, but rather than pull away Reid brought his hands up to rest lightly on Morgan’s biceps and leaned in.
The touch was electric and Morgan claimed Reid’s lips a little more harshly than he’d intended. In his defense he’d warned the genius he was unraveling fast so the man really only had himself to blame.
Not that Reid appeared to be complaining. If Morgan had been expecting the lithe brunette to be a passive participant in all this he was sorely mistaken.
It was possibly the singular most mind blowing kiss of Morgan’s life, less a battle for dominance and more a tango between two highly skilled dancers. Lips parted, tongues twined, fingers tangled in cloth, bodies molded to each other…
It was only when the lack of oxygen started becoming a major issue that Morgan tore himself away and realized he’d crowded Reid up against the wall, a thigh shoved between the younger man’s legs, hands fisted in the fabric at the small of his back.
He panted in several breaths as he took in Reid’s closed eyes, blissed out expression, kiss swollen lips and generally rumpled appearance. He wondered idly if he could get Garcia to print out and frame a copy of… Garcia and her blasted surveillance cameras!
“Fuck,” Morgan breathed out.
“Not generally on a first date,” Reid murmured, mind obviously still preoccupied. “Though I’m willing to make an exception,” he added as Morgan grabbed his arm and dragged him into the supply closet.
“God, it’s always the quiet ones, isn't it?” Morgan huffed out with a laugh.
“I’m not the one who completely bypassed the courting part of the relationship and went directly for the straight up devouring part,” Reid retaliated, completely ignoring the fact that he had had a little bit to do with that himself.
“Hmm,” Morgan agreed. “Devouring. I like that.”
He pressed Reid up against the back of the door and threaded his fingers in the brunette’s soft hair, angling Reid’s head so he could assault his neck with tongue and teeth.
Reid’s hands, usually always moving as he illustrated some point or other, fluttered uncertainly in the air for a moment before settling onto Morgan’s back. They traced odd patterns, the nails digging in whenever Morgan bit down on a sensitive spot and Morgan hummed in approval causing Reid’s breath to stutter at the sensation.
He yanked Reid’s tie loose enough to gain access to a collarbone and proceeded to drive them both crazy.
Morgan hadn't really brought them in here with anything in mind beyond denying Garcia a vicarious thrill but, god, the sounds dripping from Reid’s lips were bordering on sinful and Morgan already had the younger man’s shirt completely undone and he didn't even remember doing it.
He dipped down to take a pert, pink nipple into his mouth and grinned as Reid all but mewled, his fingers raking across Morgan’s back in short, sharp motions.
The shirt was going to have to go if Morgan stood any chance of returning to the office looking anything less than thoroughly disheveled.
He took a step back - and wasn't Reid’s whimper of disappointment the hottest thing ever? - before unbuttoning the top two buttons. Reid was in an absolute state, leaning against the door as if it was the only thing keeping him up, covered in bite marks, his pupils blown wide and nearly mindless.
Morgan grabbed the back of his collar and yanked the red silk shirt straight over his head to save time and stepped back into Reid’s personal space. The feeling of skin on skin was nearly overwhelming and Morgan went in for another kiss just to keep from marking every square inch of Reid’s alabaster chest. He poured his need to claim and hold and dominate into the kiss and rather than be scared off the younger man met him need for need.
Reid's fingers scrabbled around the waist of Morgan’s pants and Morgan groaned, grinding his hips into Reid’s. Reid gasped, grabbing Morgan’s hips for better leverage to grind back.
“Shit, pretty boy,” Morgan cursed breathlessly. “Where’ve you been hiding all this?” he breathed out as he mapped the slighter man’s torso with large hands and mouthed up his jaw.
“Not exactly the sort of thing you bust out in the conference room before a briefing,” Reid muttered into Morgan’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Morgan replied with a smile. “Might shake things up a bit.”
Reid opened his mouth but whatever he’d been about to say was lost when Morgan bit down on his earlobe.
“Jesus, fuck,” was all he could get out and Morgan laughed, low and rough. “Not fair,” Reid whined.
“All’s fair in love and war.”
“Did you know that that quote originated in that form in 1850 with an English author named Smedley, not very well known these days despite the everyday use of the quote, but that the sentiment is older still, having made an appearance in Don Quixote in 1604 where he states ‘Love and war are all one. It is lawful to use sleights and stratagems to attain the wished end.’ Or something to that effect but in Spanish.”
“Now who’s not playing fair,” Morgan groaned. “That is cheating.”
“The word cheating has such a negative connotation to it,” Reid said, the smirk evident in his tone. “I prefer to consider it utilizing my resources.”
“Oh, yeah?” Morgan demanded. “Well, utilize this.”
And with that he hoisted Reid up, planting him firmly against the door and set to ravishing him in earnest. Reid gave what could only be termed a squeak as he wrapped his arms and legs around Morgan and held on for dear life.
He needn't have worried, Derek Morgan was a powerhouse of a man. Morgan had once told the team that he did a thousand sit-ups at least once a day during his normal workout routine, sometimes twice if he was bored or stressed. Reid had thought he was grandstanding at the time but the state of those washboard abs and the sheer strength of the man leant a certain credence to his words.
Reid kept his legs wrapped around Morgan's waist tightly but loosened his arms enough to bring one hand around to Morgan's front. The other hand he placed on the back of Morgan's head to draw him into another toe-curling kiss as he managed to get Morgan's pants undone with a modicum of fumbling.
He stuck his hand inside and was rewarded with a sharp nip to his bottom lip as he squeezed the pulsing erection he found there. Reid smiled and drew his hand up, palming the tip and tracing his fingers lightly just under the head.
"Jesus, Reid, Spencer," Morgan panted out. "Fuck, ah!"
Reid happily set to drawing out as many breathy obscenities as he could manage before Morgan batted his hand away with a growl and undid the younger man's pants. It was Reid's turn to pant and moan as Morgan returned the favor, placing biting kisses against soft flesh with every flick of his wrist.
Reid gave a thin whine, flexing his legs against Morgan's back as he drew the man closer. When he was close enough Reid tangled Morgan's fingers in his own and wrapped both their hands around their erections. It was hot and slippery with precum and so tight and...
Reid tossed his head back with a hollow thunk and came completely undone. Morgan followed him a second later with a hoarse cry and one last bite to Reid's collarbone.
They stayed like that, panting and shivery with aftershocks, for a long moment before Reid groaned and unlocked his legs. He stood on shaky legs that might not have held him if he didn't still have the door against his back and pulled Morgan into another lingering kiss.
"Shit, Spencer, I am so sorry," Morgan said when he finally got a good look at his lover's body.
"If by sorry you mean 'Sorry, Spencer, for not doing this sooner' I will accept it," Reid said calmly as he found his tie and used it to clean up the worst of the mess. "If by sorry you mean 'Sorry, Spencer, our first time was in a grungy closet and not on a nice bed' I will accept that also but point out that it was fun anyway so it doesn't matter." He started buttoning his shirt back up but flashed Morgan a smile. "If by sorry you mean 'Sorry, Spencer, you look like you've been attacked by a flock of vampire bats' I deserve that one but again I was totally into it so it doesn't really matter. Any other meaning of sorry I refuse to accept."
"Yeah, I was going for the last one," Morgan told him as he accepted the ruined tie and started cleaning himself up. "Though I could make up for the second one by offering a repeat at my place in my king-sized bed?"
"That I will gladly accept after you go tell Hotch I've suddenly come down with some sort of illness, possibly food poisoning, and you'll have to drive me home."
"Skipping out on work early?" Morgan asked with a grin. "That's not like you, Reid."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to get much accomplished returning to the bullpen looking like this," Reid countered wryly. He tugged on his collar and three bright red hickies came more fully into view.
"No, probably not," Morgan agreed wholly unrepentant, his grin not dropping a notch. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
He had no more than cracked the door open when a phone rang. They both reached into their pockets but Reid drew his out and waved it at Morgan before putting it to his ear.
"Reid," he said calmly before yanking it away with a pained expression.
Morgan could hear Garcia's high pitched squeal even from where he was half out into the hallway.
"You have to tell me everything!" she cried in her girliest voice.
"Garcia, I don't-" Reid started, only to be cut off.
"EVERYTHING," she repeated vehemently.
Reid threw Morgan a beseeching look but Morgan lifted his hands in surrender and beat a hasty retreat down the hall.
Who knew facing down a room full of FBI profilers while trying to play hooky with your new lover would feel like the lesser of two evils?