Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rule #1

His skin isn’t as thick he pretends it is. Be there when he can’t protect himself.

Reid sees it whenever they work a case in the deep South. Whenever they walk into the police station of the redneck, God-fearing, a little-more-than-mildly racist town in the middle of Georgia or Alabama or Mississippi, and the cops there look at Morgan with a strange expression on their face. 

Reid knows that sometimes, Morgan would rather die than to ask for help. He would rather sit in silence and take the abuse, the whispered slurs behind his back because he knows that he is ten times the cop those other guys are, and he proves it by being right every damn time. He proves it by finding the patterns that the locals overlooked, by walking the unsub into the police station looking every cop who talked behind his back dead in the eye as he leads the unsub to the interrogation room and pries every last detail out of him.

But there’s times where he can’t really take it anymore.

Times like the rural town, nestled somewhere in South Carolina, where the unsub targeted black men from ages eighteen to thirty three, and no one could find the connection between them, until they interviewed the best friend of the most recent victim who wasn’t the best friend, but the boyfriend. It was almost easy after that, tracing the path back to a gay support group for those of color and finding the man whose internalized homophobia motivated his kills.

They bring the unsub in, still leering and spouting about how anyone who isn’t straight, white, and Catholic deserves to rot in hell. And Reid doesn’t think much of it until he notices some of the cops around him nodding slightly, even whispering. Morgan’s right next to him, and he knows that he hears it too, but he doesn’t do anything about it because he is controlled. 

Well, he doesn’t do anything about it until a cop stage-whispers to another, “Fancy that, we get justice for faggot nig-” and Morgan jerks around, his eyes filled with anger and a deep, deep sadness that makes Reid ache. He looks ready to say something, but Rossi beats him to the punch.

“Say that again,” Rossi says, voice dripping with venom. “I dare you.”

The rest of the team stops and looks back at the cop, all of them glaring. If looks could kill, Reid thinks, he would be riddled with bullets. The cop falls silent, turning a bright scarlet.

Morgan punches the wall on the way out. Hotch doesn’t say anything.

Nothing seems too wrong until the team gets back to the jet. Everyone’s in their respective seats when the plane lifts off, Morgan immediately putting his headphones on. Reid picks up a book, but glances up every few pages to check on Morgan.

It’s on page 237, line 16, word 8 ( three) , where he sees the signs of Morgan beginning to break. Morgan’s hands begin to shake slightly where he is clenching them in his lap, and he’s gazing out the window, eyes looking distant.

He puts the book down and slips into the seat next to Morgan, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. Morgan glances back at Reid, smiles slightly, his eyes watery. He drops his head onto Reid’s shoulder.

“I fucking hate people, sometimes,” Morgan whispers, and Reid takes a quick look around before placing a kiss on the top of Morgan’s head and feels him relax.

Rule #2

He loves you. Even if you can’t tell sometimes, he loves you.

“Did you mean it?” Reid asks quietly, tracing circles on Morgan’s abs back in his apartment.

Morgan closes a hand over Reid’s, entangling their fingers on his stomach. “Mean what, pretty boy?”

“What you told William.”

Morgan shifts slightly, throws a leg over Reids, and lies on his side. Starts stroking his thumb over the back of Reid’s hand. “I told William a lot of things, baby, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He’s like this after sex, Reid muses to himself, gazing at their joined hands. Calls me pet names. 

“Lose you to that brain of yours?” Morgan teases, breaking Reid out of his reverie.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, baby boy it’s okay. Tell me what you meant, though.”

“Did you mean it when you told him you had absolutely no idea what it’s like to be in love with another man?”

Morgan’s thumb stills, then he moves quicker than Reid can comprehend. He’s on his elbows and knees on top of Reid, their faces barely two inches away.

“Pretty boy, I am more in love with you than I thought was possible. I lied. I lie to unsubs all the time. I’m sorry I had to say that, but you gotta know I don’t mean it.”

“I know,” Reid whispers, and he sees the flash of Morgan’s grin before he drops on top of Reid, who lets out a quiet oof.

“Love you, pretty boy,” Morgan mumbles into Reid’s collarbone, and Reid smiles.

Rule #3

When your hands are wandering down his sides, check in with him. Sometimes he gets stuck in the past.

“ Fuck, Derek,” Reid gasps when Morgan’s mouth closes over a spot just above his collarbone. Morgan chuckles and bites harder.

Reid flips them around so that Morgan’s the one pressed against the wall, and kisses a spot below Morgan’s jaw. He makes his way down Morgan’s throat and places his hand on top of Morgan’s crotch.

That’s when he notices the shift.

Morgan is less pliant, more stiff in the way he responds to Reid’s touches. His smile seems to be forced, and there’s an air of unease around him.

Reid pulls off. “Derek.”

“Yeah,” Morgan says, his palms flat against the wall. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Morgan chews on his lip. “I just kinda want a break.”

“Okay,” Reid says, “you want anything?”

Morgan brings his thumb up to his mouth and picks at the skin around his nail. “Water?”

Reid smiles and nods, quickly filling up a cup of water at the sink. He brings it back to Morgan who had since sat down on the bed.

“Can I touch you?” Reid asks quietly, and Morgan looks up at him. 

“In like a second,” Morgan says, finishing the water and placing the cup on the nightstand. “I just…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Reid says. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know what happened with - with him.”

Morgan smiles gratefully at Reid’s avoidance of the name, and nods. “You can touch me.”

Reid sits next to Morgan and wraps his arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I’m not about to have a panic attack or anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I’m concerned about how you’re feeling.”

Morgan looks back at Reid and shuffles closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? This?” Reid scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t fit you.”

Morgan laughs at that. “I’m not being stupid. Most people I’ve been with in the past - guys and girls - they don’t care. They get upset.”

“I’m not upset. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Morgan grins. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Rule #4

He will solve everyone else’s problems before he even considers his own. Make sure he doesn’t collapse under the weight of his memories.

Reid has watched, time and time again, as Morgan sits in front of whichever team member the case got to. Whichever team member’s heart was shattered by whatever events transpired. Whichever team member identified too much with the victim or the family or even the unsub. Watched as Morgan calmly asked them what was wrong, listened to the precursor to their heartache before they told him what was on their mind. Watched him reach out to grasp their hands or offer advice or even just sit there and listen. 

No one ever did it for Morgan, though.

Reid’s watched Morgan on the cases where Morgan fit the victimology just right. Where the father was killed, and there was a single mother who had to raise three kids by herself while mourning. Where the unsub was just a kid who was targeted too much, too often, by too many people.

Sometimes it gets to Morgan, but you wouldn’t see it unless you were looking for it. (Reid was looking for it.)

Reid knows better than to bring it up on the plane. He waited until they were at his or Morgan’s apartment (because that’s what they did after tough cases, spent the night together, took comfort in each other’s company). 

“What can I do?” he asks quietly, reaching a hand out to grab Morgan’s arm.

Sometimes that’s what does it. Sometimes Morgan will let out a strangled, sob-like noise before falling against Reid who gently lowers them to the floor, and Morgan will sit there and cry into Reid’s shoulder.

Other times Morgan will shrug and head into the shower. Reid counts five minutes before walking into the bathroom behind him. He’ll find Morgan standing against the wall of the shower, eyes unfocused. He’ll slip in behind Morgan and hold him tightly, waiting for Morgan to whisper “I’m fine, pretty boy.”

And at the worst times, Morgan won’t respond. He’ll walk into the bedroom and sit on the bed and look at the wall like it holds the answers to all of life’s mysteries. Stares at it like it’ll tell him why the eight year old girl was raped and murdered. Reid follows him in and slowly helps Morgan undress and get into bed. He’ll cover Morgan in every blanket they own and lay next to him, holding him as close as possible.

It’s one of those times where Morgan sighs, turns around in Reid’s embrace to face him and whispers, “You don- you shouldn’t need to take care of me.”

To which Reid only replies, “I want to.”

Rule #5

Sometimes he won’t believe it when you say you love him. Try not to let it show how much it breaks your heart that he doesn’t think he can be loved. Remind him that he isn’t his past.

“I love you.”

Morgan freezes, and Reid immediately panics. Is it too soon? It’s been several months, he thought it was okay to say it now, but maybe Morgan didn’t feel the same.

Morgan opens his mouth, and Reid braces himself for rejection.

What he doesn’t expect is the quiet, broken “ How?” that comes out of Morgan’s mouth.

Reid stares. “What do you mean?”

“H-how can you love me,” Morgan asks, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s me. I’m broken beyond belief, I can barely get through four days without having a nightmare about something or the other -”

“Derek,” Reid sighs, his hand coming up to cup Morgan’s cheek. “You’re not broken.”

“Yes, I am,” Derek says, tearing himself away from Reid, and, as much as it hurts Reid to hear this, he knows this is a conversation they needed to have. “Reid, Spencer, I’m so broken inside, I don’t know why I’m still alive, I don’t know how I’m still alive -”

“Sometimes, I don’t know how you’re alive either,” Reid says gently, catching Morgan’s arm. “Even when the odds are astronomically stacked against you, you still go into the building, or you confront the unsub, or whatever other crazy shit you pull -”

“Is this the part where you yell at me for having a death wish?”

“No,” Reid says emphatically. “It’s the part where I say that you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met, and, forgive me for saying this despite having no semblance of a theistic upbringing, God knows how much I hate watching you run into danger like you’re the last person to matter, but Derek, you mean everything to me.”

Morgan stands still for a moment and wets his lips. He looks at Reid, looks away, and looks back to him.

“I love you, too.”

Rule #6

If you wear his shirt, you will get fucked.

It was careless, honestly. Or maybe that’s what Reid tried to tell himself. 

It’s their day off, and he had spent the night at Morgan’s house. And sure, he already had a good fifth of his closet neatly stuffed into a drawer in Morgan’s dresser, but Morgan’s shirts were so comfortable.

Which is how Morgan found Reid curled up on the couch with a book he probably pulled out of his ass ( seriously, how does the kid always have at least three books on him at all times? ) in boxer briefs and one of Morgan’s hoodies that was so large on Reid that he had to roll up the sleeves twice in order to get his hands out of them.

And somehow, it’s simultaneously the hottest and most adorable thing Morgan has ever seen.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Morgan says, in a voice that has Reid blushing from head to toe.

“Hey,” Reid whispers as Morgan crosses the distance to sit next to him. He throws a leg over Reid’s lap and pushes himself to straddle Reid.

“What you doin’?” Morgan whispers, right next to Reid’s ear, who whimpers slightly as the hot air hits his skin.

“N-nothing, fuck ,” Reid whispers when Morgan bites the skin just below his jaw. “Is it the hoodie ?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, you fuck you absolute fucking alpha male,” Reid laughs as Morgan stands up and pulls him to his feet.

“Bedroom,” Morgan says, pushing Reid in the direction of his room. “Then we’ll talk.”

Chapter Text

Rule #1:

Sometimes, he gets lost in his mind. Find him before he can’t find himself

Morgan’s all too familiar with Reid’s tendencies to lose himself to his mind. It’s what happens to a veritable genius with an IQ of 187, three PHd’s and two BA’s (one in progress, as Reid loves to remind him, but honestly does Morgan mind? No.). That doesn’t mean he always enjoys the times where Reid spaces out completely, lost to the world.

He doesn’t care when Reid’s thinking about some obscure concept that leads him down a rabbit hole of math and history and chemistry and engineering - it’s inherently adorable watching Reid’s eyes go unfocused, and his mouth fall slightly open, his lips occasionally mouthing numbers and formulas. One of the most memorable times this happened, Reid snapped out of his reverie and immediately scrambled for a pen and paper. When he couldn’t find a notebook, he turned to Morgan, demanding he take off his shirt and began sketching something on his back with a Sharpie and snapped a picture of it once it was done. It took thirty six minutes of Reid scrubbing his back in the shower for it to come off. 

It may very well be one of Morgan’s favorite memories.

No, he doesn’t care when Reid loses himself to his IQ. He cares when Reid loses himself to memories that make him wince and subconsciously begin rubbing his arm harshly, the spots where he used to inject the Dilaudid. He cares when Reid flinches away from Morgan’s hand when he goes to tap his shoulder, trying to snap him out of it. He cares when he can see the pure fear and pain in Reid’s eyes.

He cares in times like now, when they’re both sitting on opposite ends of Morgan’s couch, the TV on in the background, playing something that neither of them are paying attention to. Morgan is reading something that J.J. had said would change your LIFE, it’s such a good book, and Reid’s working on his most recent paper. Or, he was last time Morgan glanced at him.

Morgan looks up from his book, to find Reid staring at the same spot on his laptop screen, his fingers stilled across the keyboard, hovering above the letters. 

“Hey, pretty boy, you in there?” Morgan calls, waiting for any sign that Reid registered his words. When none came, he frowned and tried again. “Spence?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch. With an increasing sense of worry, Morgan stood up from his spot and knelt in front of Reid. “You okay in there, baby boy?”

He places a hand on Reid’s knee, and Reid jerks so violently the laptop almost fell off his knee. “Woah there, Spencer. You okay?”

Reid shakes his head once, as if trying to clear it. “Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat before continuing and fixing his glasses, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Morgan asks gently, his thumb now rubbing gentle circles on Reid’s knee.

“Tobias,” Reid mumbles, and Morgan sighs deeply. “I can’t - I can’t forget it, I’m sorry.”

Morgan looks Reid in the eye. “Hey. None of that. If anybody has an idea of what you’re going through it’s me. He tortured you, Spencer, and that’s not something you forget anytime soon.”

Reid swallows thickly and nods. “Can you -” he hesitates, before placing the laptop on the table next to him and making grabby hands in Morgan’s general direction.

Morgan wastes no time in climbing onto the sofa next to Reid and allowing him to press his face against Morgan’s chest. He wraps an arm around him and doesn’t comment on the hot tears he can feel falling on his shirt, only strokes Reid’s back lightly and whispers, “It’s okay, pretty boy.”

Rule #2:

He doesn’t like standing up for himself. You might have to do it for him sometimes.

Morgan knew it was bad the minute they heard the case was in Vegas.

What he wasn’t expecting was the amount of people that knew Reid.

First, one of the cops had apparently gone to middle school with him, and spent two minutes reminiscing about an English teacher who was apparently sent from hell. Reid laughed and nodded, and the guy patted his arm before leaving.

Then Reid and Rossi had to interview the victim’s family. The victim’s father was one of the many guys Reid played chess with when he was younger. The man smiled shakily at Reid when he saw him and hugged him tightly before he left. Reid cried silently in the car for the ten minute ride back to the station. Rossi said nothing, and Morgan didn’t have the chance to ask Reid what was wrong when he showed up with red eyes and slightly flushed cheeks.

The worst time comes when the girlfriend of the suspected unsub saunters into the police station. Reid visibly stiffens next to Morgan, who squeezes his arm tightly in response.

“Who’s that?” Morgan whispers.

“Remember that time I told you about where I got tied -”

“To the goal post?” Morgan finishes. Reid nods, and then levels a look at the girl. “She was there. Girlfriend of the ringleader.”

Morgan winces, and then watches the woman get led into the interview room. “You can skip out on the interview if you want -”

“No, no,” Reid says. “It’ll be fine.”

Morgan snorts, and walks with Reid into the room.

“Sharon Davis, I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” Morgan says, taking the seat opposite the woman. “We’re here to ask a couple questions about your boyfrie-”

“Spencer Reid?” Sharon asks, her eyebrows furrowing in recognition. “Weren’t you that scrawny kid?”

“I’m still fairly skinny,” Reid says, looking down at himself. “But I suppose so.”

“Huh. They let you be an FBI agent?”

Reid sighs. “Yes. Why, is that surprising?”

“Yeah, I always figured you wouldn’t actually follow through with that. You never seemed to have much ability to-”

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Ma’am, with all possible respect, Doctor Reid has three PhD’s, which is three more than you, incidentally, in addition to two BA’s, with a third in progress. With an IQ of 187, I daresay he’s a hell of a lot smarter than you are, and he’s an incredibly capable agent. In fact, he plays a very large role in solving the majority of our cases. Don’t belittle his achievements and capabilities just because you got a kick out of bullying him in your high school days.”

Sharon blinked slowly. “I - I suppose.”

Morgan looked back at Reid who shot him a grateful smile and then said, “Ma’am, as I was saying, we’ve just got a few questions about your boyfriend, Darrel Wilkins…”

Rule #3:

He does not know when to stop. Make sure you pull him out of his work once in a while.

“Fuck!”

Morgan jumps at the sudden expletive and looks over to where Reid is sitting. He’s cradling his head in his hands, his laptop open in front of him. 

“That’s not a word I hear from you much in everyday conversation,” Morgan says dryly. “What’s up?”

“I’m trying to get this paper done,” Reid says, his hands moving to cover his face. “And I can’t fucking think.”

“Slow down there,” Morgan says, walking over to Reid and crouching next to him. “How long have you been working?”

“Five hours,” Reid answers, his voice muffled. “Well, that’s including the other paper I had to do and the planning I need to do for my guest lecture at Georgetown and -”

“Pretty boy, that’s a lot of stuff for one person to handle,” Morgan murmurs, standing up. “C’mon, take a break.”

“No, I can’t,” Reid complains, leaning back and cracking his neck. “I have to keep working on this -”

“Pretty boy, take a break,” Morgan insists, pulling Reid to his feet and wrapping an arm around his waist. “C’mon, we’re dancing.”

“What?” Reid laughs, but loosely puts his arms over Morgan’s shoulders, clamping his right wrist in his other hand. “Why?”

“Because you,” Morgan says, punctuating the word with a kiss to the tip of Reid’s nose, “need a break.”

Reid laughs again, but sways with Morgan, who hums something softly under his breath. It’s peaceful and light, and Reid finds himself subconsciously stepping closer to Morgan and resting his head on Morgan’s chest and closing his eyes. He feels, more than hears, the quiet chuckle rumble in Morgan’s chest and he peeks up to find Morgan looking at him.

Morgan runs his hand through Reid’s hair, who leans into the touch slightly, smiling. “What happened to you can’t take a break?” he teases.

Reid grins. “Maybe that’s changed.”

Rule #4

Everything in him is screaming that he is not good enough. Remind him that he is more than enough for you.

Morgan sometimes wakes in the middle of the night.

That’s not a concerning beginning. Everyone does that - wakes up sometime between the hours of two and four a.m., questions their life, their goals, the shadow across the room that may be a jacket or a headless man standing unnaturally still, and then falls asleep in fifteen minutes. When Morgan wakes in the middle of the night, he blinks his eyes for a moment, checks the time, reaches an arm over to Reid if he’s staying the night, shuffles closer to him, and falls back asleep.

Morgan sometimes wakes in the middle of the night to find that Reid isn’t there.

Sometimes, it’s as simple as Reid wanting to get a glass of water or use the bathroom. Sometimes, he just woke up with another brilliant idea, meaning Morgan has to leave the comfort of the bed and hunt down wherever in the house Reid has set up camp for the night. 

Other times, he’ll find Reid curled up on the couch, staring at the wall, or maybe the TV if he bothered to turn it on, suffering in silence from whatever thoughts he can’t force out of his mind tonight.

It’s 2:26am, according to the digital clock on Morgan’s nightstand. He almost knocks a pair of Reid’s clear-rimmed glasses of the stand when he fumbles for the clock to check the time. He throws an arm across the bed, expecting to feel Reid’s warm chest (somehow so at odds with his always cold hands and feet) next to him. When his hand hits the sheets, he blinks blearily and sits up. He rubs his eyes once and allows himself a yawn before walking out to the living room, where he finds Reid folded in on himself underneath a fluffy blue blanket. 

“Wha’re you doin’ up, cutie?” Morgan whispers, sitting next to Reid.

Reid shrugs and shifts closer to Morgan. Morgan drapes some of the blanket on his lap and lifts his arm to allow Reid to rest his head on his chest.

“Wha’ was it t’night?” Morgan asks.

“Am I good enough?”

The question throws Morgan for a second. “‘Course you’re good enough, baby, you’re more than good enough.” Morgan kisses the top of Reid’s head and frowns. “Why d’you think you’re not?”

“I dunno,” Reid murmurs. “Sometimes I think, well, look at everyone else in the BAU. All of you are extremely physically capable in addition to being excellent profilers. I’m expendable and unneeded. My presence could easily be replaced by the rest of you and -”

“That’s not true,” Morgan protests. “We don’t have IQ’s of 187. We don’t have five goddamn degrees. We don’t have eidetic memories. We don’t have your obscure knowledge that somehow manages to save our asses on every case.”

“I don’t contribute to the team -”

“Like hell you don’t. The BAU wouldn’t be the BAU without Doctor Spencer Reid. Who else is supposed to spit out random facts at the most random times? Who else is supposed to find connections no one else even thinks of? We need you Spence, not just for your contributions, but we need you for who you are as a person.”

“What’s that?” Spencer laughs bitterly. “I’m a disappointment to everyone, Derek. I got hooked on Dilaudid, I fail at every turn, and I can’t do anything right.”

“The Dilaudid isn’t your fault,” Derek says emphatically. “Hankel did that to you. You don’t fail at every turn, not by a long shot, and whenever you make a mistake you try your damn best to fix it, and you always do.”

Reid looks at Morgan with red-rimmed eyes and shrugs. 

“I love you, Spencer. You’re more than enough.”

Reid smiles slightly and whispers, “I love you, too. Thank you.”

Rule #5

You may think you know everything about him. You don’t.

Morgan walks into Reid’s apartment, having already been given a key a week before, looking for Reid. 

“Spencer?” he calls, looking for his boyfriend ( boyfriend, the word sits so deliciously on his tongue, his mind). “Where are you, pretty boy?”

“In here!” Reid’s voice is muffled, and Morgan follows it into Reid’s bedroom-slash-study-slash-temporary-office. “Hey.”

Morgan returns Reid’s grin and sits on the far end of the bed from Reid. “What’re you doing?” he asks, looking at the notepad balanced on Reid’s thighs, his knees drawn up halfway to his chest and the colored pencils scattered around him.

To Morgan’s surprise, Reid blushes slightly and murmurs something unintelligible. 

“Come again, pretty boy?” Morgan says, amused.

“Drawing,” Reid mutters, his face a more prominent shade of pink. 

“I didn’t know you drew,” Morgan says evenly, while casting his mind about for evidence for the contrary. “I mean, I’ve seen you doodle in the margins of case files -”

“I mainly do it when I’m stressed,” Reid interrupts, smiling slightly, the blush ebbing away slowly. “Or when I’m bored.”

“Which is it today?” Morgan asks, his hand tentatively reaching out to rub Reid’s knee.

“Not sure,” Reid says, his brow furrowed as he lightly stroked something with his pencil. “Both, maybe.”

Morgan nods, the pair lapsing into silence, broken by the sound of Reid’s pencil scratching on the paper.

After a few minutes of quiet, Reid looks up and shoots a knowing grin at Morgan. “You can look if you want, I can feel you wanting to ask.”

Morgan laughs, half in relief, as he had indeed been wondering the best way to ask Reid to look at his art. “Thanks.”

“Here,” Reid says, his cheeks pink again, and thrusts the notepad at Morgan.

At first, it seems nothing special - a beautifully detailed portrait of an eye, shaded in tones of brown. Then Morgan looks closer, at the smile lines carefully sketched into exact locations beside the eye, the bold eyebrow, and the dark color of the eye.

He looks up at Reid who is biting his lip nervously and meets his eyes. “Is this -”

“It’s your eye,” Reid rushes out. “It’s not that great, it’s kinda rough, but I like sketching and I like you - that’s weird, um, I just wanted to draw some part of you that wasn’t too difficult but -”

“Woah,” Morgan chuckles. “I love it.”

At that, Reid’s face turns full on scarlet at his cheekbones. “You do?” he smiles, reaching for Morgan’s hand.

Morgan smiles and takes Reid’s hand, kissing the back of it once. “I think it’s amazing.”

Reid grins once more and takes back the notepad, falling back against the headboard, his pencil resuming its movements.