Archive of Our Own

The whole case screamed kidnapping attempts, but the BAU swiftly realized there was never supposed to actually be any kidnapping involved after they found the third victim tied up in their bed, seemingly unhurt, but scared. She claimed she’d been left there the entire night, the UnSub having broken into her home and spent approximately one hour with her before leaving. The only reason she was found was due to her not having shown up for work in the morning, which was so unlike her that her colleagues immediately contacted the authorities. The BAU arrived on scene after a short car ride only due to him not being the first one to be found like this.

“Not that I want him to murder people,” the chief had said. “But this behavior is strange enough that it makes me nervous.”

And nervous was exactly what the victims described the masked perpetrator to be, claiming they had paced the room after the initial ambush and made the victims watch them from the bed, all of them terrified, all of them unaware that they would eventually just leave the room and never return.

It was only once the fourth victim was found that any type of motive seemed to have been involved.

“He… tickled him?” Morgan rubbed at his temples. “For an hour?”

“Not entirely,” Gideon replied. “The victim said he’d first spent about twenty or so minutes hyping himself up to do it. Said it was intense, but seemingly brief once he started. As if the UnSub got one short burst of courage before he fled the scene. We’re dealing with someone who might want to try out their fantasies on people, but is afraid to.”

“Well, maybe he’s afraid now,” Prentiss said. “Who knows what could happen if he keeps doing this and getting away?”

“He’ll get bolder,” Hotch agreed. “And maybe he eventually won’t end up leaving at all.”

“That’s messed up.” Morgan glanced at Reid. “You’re not gonna share a bunch of facts about tickling with us, pretty boy?”

Reid looked up as if startled. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “T-tickle torture had been around for centuries. It was used in ancient Japan as a form of punishment when the need arose for a punishment to be administered without leaving any visible marks. There is also a consensual form of tickling which is vastly used among fetish communities, usually involving bondage of some sort. Although in recent years more evidence has surfaced that there isn’t always a sexual nature to it and some people might just simply-” He shrugged. “-enjoy it.”

“Why exactly do you know all that?” Morgan asked, shaking his head. “We think this guy is too scared to seek out like-minded people or something?”

“Possibly,” Reid said. “Some people will find this fascination, whatever form it may come in, to be embarrassing and alienating. Many find these urges overwhelming.”

“And eventually they allow them to seize control.” Gideon switched to an image of the four-poster bed of their latest victim. “He ties them up with rope, which takes longer, but I suspect using handcuffs without retrieving them once he leaves doesn’t make sense. Ties both the hands and feet, although not tight enough to really hurt them.”

“That could point to hesitation,” Hotch said.

Gideon nodded. “Or he enjoys seeing them squirm.”

Reid took a nearly - nearly - inaudible breath before he said, “Some people want their, uh, ticklees to be entirely immobile, while others want to be able to see them struggle.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Ticklees?”

“The person receiving the tickling,” Reid said. “As opposed to a tickler.”

“There are terms?”

Reid met Morgan’s eye only briefly before saying, “There are terms for most things, yes. We’re talking about a whole community here. He’s painting a predatory picture, but for the most part these types of communities mostly want to be left to themselves, especially the types that revolve around aspects of humanity which are slightly more frowned upon. You know, same sex relationships, neurodivergence such as autism, other minorities. Things that don’t inherently hurt anyone, but are different from the general norm.” Reid shook his head. “They just want acceptance. I’m not saying this is necessarily a minority in the same sense, but you know what I mean.” He trailed off, seemingly aware that everyone was looking at him and refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

“You sure know everything about everything,” Morgan said, tilting his head at him, no teasing in his voice now.

Reid turned back to Gideon. “How would the victim explain the interaction?”

“Jarring,” Gideon said. “Said he kept jumping between spots once he’d started. As if he was afraid to linger for too long. Fortunately for the victim he didn’t seem to be too ticklish, which could explain the seemingly interrupted attempt. He wasn’t getting the reaction he was hoping for.”

“But instead of lashing out once things went wrong, he left.” Prentiss exhaled. “Not the typical reaction of someone who was out of control.”

“We’re dealing with someone who’s probably spent a lot of time trying to make these attempted tickle sessions happen. He’s still hesitant. He’s disappointed, but seems to lash out on himself rather than his victims.”

“He’s insecure,” Hotch added. “Inexperienced. Maybe he’s young. He attacks both men and women.”

Morgan said, “He bisexual?”

Gideon nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe just desperate. For him to have known his victims would be home alone all night it shows he must’ve kept watch for a while, and yet there’s only a matter of days between the attempts.”

“Maybe he knows them.” All eyes were back on Reid. He met Gideon’s. “I, uh, happen to know of a- tickle club. In town. The Feather? Or well, it’s more of a department of a club? It’s part of a bigger fetish chain which has several smaller locations close by catering to certain- interests. The biggest one is the BDSM one. ”

“How the hell do you know that?”

Reid met Morgan’s gaze. “Take one guess.”

Morgan burst into laughter. “Doctor Reid!” he said incredulously. “I never would have pegged you as someone who even goes into clubs at all.”

“Please shut up,” Reid said, looking down at his notes again. “I’ve never gone inside.”

“It’s possible the UnSub met the victims there,” Gideon said, ignoring Morgan’s snickering. “Maybe it was harder to connect with someone. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought it’d be like and it made him frustrated. Reid.” Reid looked up in alarm and Gideon did a relatively poor attempt at holding back a grin. “I think it’s time for you to go inside.”

“So are you ticklish?”

“Please, Morgan.”

Morgan held up his hands. “It’s just a question! A mighty relevant one may I add. Don’t want you to get attacked in there.” He made to poke him, but Reid slapped his hand away. “Aw, you’re no fun. Though I’m sure we will see plenty of people having fun soon,” he said, examining the building which, other than the relatively small sign of a feather blinking in an afternoon-dulled neon pink, looked like a regular building.

Reid said, “They should be open, although the, uh, specific activities don’t start until later.” He turned to Morgan. “Right now it’s just a bar.”

“Mm, pity. I was looking forward to seeing people giggle.”

Reid grabbed the door handle. “Really?”

Morgan shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Got curious. Did some digging. Or well, asked Garcia.”

“Did you like what you heard?”

“I wasn’t as appalled as I would’ve been had I not heard your passionate defense of it earlier. Now it just felt like something that’s not my cup of tea, but totally cool at the same time, you know?”

Reid opened the door and the faint sound of jazz met their ears. “Yeah, I get it.”

Hotch, who had been entirely silent throughout their conversation, took the lead once inside. “FBI. I’m SSA Hotchner. This is Agent Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid.” They all showed their badges to the quite frankly extremely alarmed young man working the bar. He could barely be of legal age to be there at all, let alone work there on his own. “We just want to ask a few questions.”

“We have our permit,” he said. “And never missed rent.”

Hotch raised his hand. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble here. We’re mainly interested in your clientele.”

“What they do isn’t illegal either.”

“No, but when someone ties people up in their homes without their consent and starts doing what you do here it becomes a bit concerning,” Morgan said.

The guy’s eyes widened. “The hell?”

“That’s what we said.” Morgan let out a laugh, which made the kid visibly relax. “We’re just here to ask whether you’ve noticed someone who’s, well, a little strange come around here? Someone who’s seemingly new to the scene, but who keeps appearing most nights. Doesn’t really talk to anyone?”

“Dude, that’s half the people here.” The guy rolled his eyes, although his voice held fondness. “Some people here are very… shy. But they eventually find themselves, and their circle. Nine out of ten times at least. It’s pretty vulnerable, you know, coming here. That’s why I’ve suggested we start doing coded bracelets, but the boss says it will put too much pressure on people knowing why they came in to begin with. What they’re looking for and all. Some people are simply curious.”

“So there’s no one who seems particularly suspicious? Someone giving you a bad vibe?”

He looked at Morgan and shook his head. “Not that I can think of, but to be fair, it becomes quite- distracting to work here once everyone starts giggling.”

Hotch nodded. “We’ll come back tonight then.”

The guy broke into a grin. “Better be careful. Many people really value consent here, but might get poked once or twice anyway.”

Morgan patted Reid’s back, who was hovering behind them as if scared to be seen. “We’ll take the risk.”

The club wasn’t as packed as they’d thought when they all arrived many hours later, having tried their best to dress for the occasion. Only Morgan truly managed, and even he seemed much too stiff to look like he was fully enjoying himself.

“So much is happening,” he said, and he was right. While they’d been away the premises had changed and they now found thick curtains lining the walls which hid various methods of bondage. The idea was that people had the right to not have to see the activities happening unless they consented, although you could hear the faint sound of panicked laughter through the music. When the team peeked behind one of the curtains they found just simple shackles on the wall, meant to chain one’s hands above the head while the feet were free but useless. The one next to it had a chair with ropes. The guy working the bar (how long even was his shift?) told them they had several rooms in the back where people could go for more “adult fun, if you know what I mean. Not like that,” he added at Morgan’s look. “But there are more full body bondage opportunities that’s just much too personal to be held here. Although there’s one room where you can have an audience. Some of them like it.”

“What’s this?” Gideon asked, pointing to a box which was really just a bucket.

“The tool machine. You can stick your hand in and pick a tool at random. You know, feathers, brushes, toothbrushes, all that. This one.” He tapped the one next to it, which was transparent. “You can see what’s available and you grab what you want. Some people have a clearer vision while others want to be surprised.”

They walked into the bodies, some dancing, some talking, some engaging in quick and playful tickle fights and spilling their drinks during it and having to make their way back to the bar to replace it. A brilliant marketing strategy for the bartender’s tip jar.

Morgan caught a woman’s gaze and averted his eyes with a slight panic. “We can’t eliminate the idea that the victims might’ve met the UnSub here and are simply too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Maybe we should talk to them again,” Gideon said, visibly uncomfortable with the proximity of people. Despite the unfamiliarity they all seemed more curious than perplexed now about it all. Morgan hoped it would calm Reid, who’d not said a single word since they arrived, nor during their initial visit that afternoon, which was unusual. Profilers were good at their job, but he tried not to take guesses as to why he was being strange about this. It wasn’t, at the end of the day, his business.

They split up, Morgan and Reid walking together simply out of habit. “You see that?” Morgan pointed to a woman curling her fingers into another woman’s neck, making her shake with laughter if only for a moment. “That’s actually cute. I can see why people might like this nonsexually too.”

Reid glanced back at him and smiled, something small and subtle but oh so obvious to the BAU member. Morgan had to keep himself from actually reaching out to tickle him just to see it again. No matter his connection to this - was there even one or was he just being his usual knowledgeable self? - he was certain Reid was ticklish. He felt like the type. The type to squirm and flail and curl up. His reactions loud yet quiet at the same time.

Or maybe Morgan was just making that up.

“We’re looking for someone who’s seemingly shy,” Reid said, walking deeper into the room. Morgan had to jog in order to keep close enough to hear him over the booming music, which had replaced the afternoon’s calm jazz. “Someone not actively participating, and yet looking a little too intently at the others.”

“So not someone who’s making sure not to stare out of politeness or maybe timidness.”

“Exactly. This individual is desperate for it, but something stops him from joining.”

Someone bumped into Reid who in turn flew into Morgan. “Sorry!” the man yelled out, his grin huge as he pointed to someone behind him. “They got my sweet spot.”

He left as quickly as he’d arrived and Morgan helped Reid to steady himself again, unable to stop himself from laughing. “This is so… different.”

Reid turned to look at him, his face suddenly pink. “It is.”

Morgan tilted his head. “You’re making it really hard not to ask, you know. But I won’t, don’t worry.” He patted his shoulder. “Let’s keep looking.”

The room was becoming livelier by the minute, laughter and screaming and squirming filling the space and making Morgan feel as if he didn’t fully fit anymore. Reid was walking ahead of him, which wasn’t necessarily unheard of, but Morgan suspected it might’ve had something to do with him wanting to make sure Morgan couldn’t see his face unless he wanted him to. He could imagine it though. All wide, shifty eyes, the rest of his face immobile as was usually the case when Reid tried not to give too much of himself away.

His eyes told on him, though. Always had.

“Hey.” He reached out to get his attention, his fingertips grazing the small of his back. He wondered if it tickled him. Wondered if every single time they’d touched had been ticklish in any way. It was ridiculous. He didn’t even actually know if Reid was ticklish at all. “Look.” He pointed to the corner of the room when Reid turned toward him, directing his gaze to a lone man standing by the wall, visibly uncertain. “He look suspicious to you?”

Reid didn’t reply at first, his eyes fixed on the stranger. “Not necessarily,” he finally said, turning back to Morgan. “He might’ve just arrived, but we can watch him for a bit longer.”

“You do that,” Morgan said, patting his back. “I want to take a look around.”

He left him and wondered if he should’ve offered to do the opposite. Have Reid walk around without feeling his gaze on him. Free to watch. Free to explore. But they were working a case here, and he felt Reid would be grateful to not be given the opportunity to stray during it anyway, what with a group of incredibly skilled profilers walking around among him.

Morgan tried not to think about it.

He peeked behind one of the curtains, finding a man nearly tearing off his limbs from how hard he was pulling at his restrained hands, a woman letting her nails trail the bare skin of his midriff, up and down as he stood there nearly dangling in the handcuffs. Morgan felt he was intruding, which he technically was, and left, unsure of how he felt. He wasn’t meant to be seeing any of this, really, being merely a curious outsider, and so he stopped trying to understand it and focused on the people who weren’t laughing.

There weren’t many of them.

“Let’s regroup,” Gideon said when he bumped into him. He’d dropped his uncomfortable expression and was merely in work mode now. “Where’s Reid?”

“I left him watching a man.”

“Anyone of interest?”

“Interesting enough.”

But when they arrived at the spot Reid should’ve been at he was nowhere in sight.

Neither was the man.

Something in Morgan panicked, even though it was more likely for Reid to have wandered off than for him to have been forced away.

“He was right here,” he said, turning to the others. “I was barely gone for ten minutes.”

“Relax,” Prentiss said, shooting him a calming smile. “Maybe he went to the bathroom. This isn’t a crime scene.”

Hotch said, “Try calling him.”

“Right.” He fished out his phone. “A miracle if he hears anything through this music though,” he muttered, dialing his number anyway.

He craned his head over the crowd in the hopes of seeing that unruly head of hair. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt nervous about this. As far as he was aware there lay no danger in here, only people living life in a way he’d never thought of before.

But it was a case, and the image of Reid tied up without his consent briefly crossed his mind. “Come on, pick up.”

“We’ll find him,” JJ said. “He probably just saw something. He can’t have gone far.”

“God, what if he gets tickled to death.”

“Highly unlikely, seeing as the clientele values consent more than anyone I’ve ever heard of,” Reid’s voice suddenly said.

“Jesus, Spencer,” Morgan sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Where are you?”

“On your left. I’m waving.”

“I see you.”

“I lost the man.”

“Never mind that.”

Morgan hung up and watched Reid make his way through the crowd. “I don’t think he’s our UnSub,” he said when he joined them.

“You don’t?”

“He had several of the characteristics we were looking for, but he did one thing which made me cross him off of the list of suspects immediately.”

“Which was?”

Reid’s face pinkened. Come to think of it he’d been looking a bit flustered ever since Morgan caught the sight of him in the crowd. “He asked me to tickle him.”

“Ah.”

“Said he’d noticed me looking.”

“I see.”

“As far as I’m aware the UnSub does the tickling.”

“Right.” Morgan grinned. “Did you accept?”

Hotch appeared in Morgan’s line of vision before Reid could reply. “Outside. Come on. I can’t think with this music.”

It was cold outside. Morgan could smell snow in the air, the ground glistening with frost. His sweat would start cooling down and he would be freezing soon, but in that moment he felt as if he was overheating. “What a night.”

“And we were only in there for half an hour,” Prentiss said.

“And we nearly lost Reid during that half hour,” Morgan said, turning to grin at him only to find him staring at the door of the club, immobile. “Spencer?” When the hell had Morgan started calling him Spencer? “What’s wrong?”

Reid pointed to the glass door. “Him.”

“What?”

He turned to look at them. “We’ve been looking at it wrong. We’re not looking for someone who’s too shy to participate, but someone desperate enough to force people into it. Because he can’t participate. He’s frustrated.”

“The bartender,” Gideon suddenly said.

“I talked to him,” JJ said. “He’s here almost every night. He knows nearly everyone.”

“So the chances of him just picking random people are slim,” Gideon said. “He probably knows exactly who’s home alone when. Regulars have a tendency of trusting servers way too much once alcohol gets involved.” For some reason he moved his gaze to Reid. “We need to talk to the victims again.”

“Why me?”

“Reid, you really want me to answer that?”

Reid had his back to Morgan, but he could see him stiffening. Hotch was walking beside him and turned to shoot Morgan a warning look which he chose to ignore. They’d barely slept. He couldn’t bother with Reid’s attempt at playing nonchalant. He’d never questioned why he should be the one to meet victims before.

“Look,” he said with a sigh, regretting his tone. “You were familiar with it, and so I assume you’re the least likely to judge and they will feel it. That will be important.”

“We need them to open up,” Hotch agreed. “Because if they don’t we have no reason to suspect the bartender, but I’m going to assume they find this embarrassing since they never said anything about it. At least in the case of the last victim. I reckon the others couldn’t know what he’d been planning on doing.”

Reid hummed, but didn’t answer. Morgan thought of pulling him into a side-hug, letting his fingers dance over the back of his ribs and telling him to lighten up. But he had a feeling Reid wouldn’t appreciate that, especially now.

He still didn’t know if he was ticklish. Sometimes it felt he would never find out.

And why did that matter anyway?

The latest victim, a young man barely older than Reid, let them into his apartment warily, and Morgan felt a bit bad for the questions he was about to receive. He could only imagine how awkward it would feel for the freaking FBI to ask you about your kinks out of nowhere and for you to have to answer them honestly.

“Thanks for talking to us, Mr Johnson,” Hotch said.

Johnson crossed his arms. “Anything to catch this creep. Have you found him?”

“We may have a suspect, but we need you to be honest with us about something.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Hotch turned to Reid. Your turn.

Reid cleared his throat. “The one thing about your case which sticks out from the others is the fact that you got tickled, so we visited The Feather.”

Reid purposefully said the club’s name and they watched Johnson stiffen semi-visibly. To them it was as clear as day. “The what?” he said anyway. Morgan nearly smiled. He sounded like Reid, in a way.

“The tickle club downtown,” Reid explained. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Not really.”

“Mr Johnson. Curt. Can I call you Curt?”

Curt shrugged. “Sure.”

“We need you to be honest, because if you’ve never been there we have no reason to suspect the person we suspect as there will be no connection.”

Morgan and Hotch fell back and watched Reid lean back against the wall, relaxed and calm, but tilting his head in a way that would hopefully make Curt feel safe.

Curt flushed. “I- okay. I’ve been. A few times.”

“We went last night. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“I guess.”

Reid smiled, eyes downcast as he continued. “I’d never been inside before. I guess this was as good of a reason to try it. Well, not try it. Working a case and all.”

Curt let out a laugh. “I get you. I, uh, don’t think I gave anyone any reason to come do that to me, though. I’m a ler.”

This time it was Curt who was testing Reid. Morgan and Hotch watched Reid’s grin grow, but the way he’d tucked his hair behind his ears made the tips of his ears turning red quite visible to them all.

Morgan shook his head. Clever bastard.

“We spoke to the bartender,” Reid continued. “Are you close?”

“Charlie? We’ve talked. He’s almost always there.” He’d dropped his denial, which was a good sign. “I wouldn’t say he’s my best friend, but he’s friendly. Why? You don’t suspect him, do you?”

“He’s a person of interest, that’s all. But he fits well enough with the profile.”

“Which is?”

“Someone who observes and never joins.”

“Well, he works.”

“And yet he’s never gone there when he’s off, has he?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“If he’s usually there when it’s open it means he rarely has the day off when the club is open. It can be frustrating to not be able to find what you want, especially something so… vulnerable.”

Curt cocked his head, smirking at Reid now. “You’re very right, Mr-?”

“Doctor.”

“Funny last name.” Reid laughed and Curt added: “You have a nice laugh.”

Morgan suddenly didn’t like this at all.

“You were flirting with him.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him.”

“Uh huh. Well, he certainly was flirting with you.”

“That doesn’t mean I was flirting back,” Reid said, running a hand through his hair. They were in the elevator, Hotch between them. “You wanted me to talk to him, right? I was charming, right? Timid, safe, relatable. Wasn’t I, Hotch?”

“You certainly knew what to say to get him to talk, yes,” he replied, not looking at either of them. “Now stop bickering. I truly do believe this Charlie is our guy.”

“I wasn’t bickering,” Morgan mumbled as they exited the elevator and walked into headquarters. “But better be careful, Reid. If you start becoming too friendly Charlie might kidnap you next.”

“I’ve barely talked to him. I can’t see that happening.”

“I’m just looking out for you. I don’t know how ticklish you are.”

Reid rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to share that information if that’s what you thought.” But he was blushing and suddenly Morgan was too.

Lord help him.

Morgan and Hotch were the first ones in the room, Reid having had to go fix something and the others not yet having arrived. Morgan sat down where he knew he would have a good view of the board, which he was sure Reid would be standing by to speak even if only for a moment. He was so focused on choosing his seat that he didn’t notice Hotch’s eyes on him at first.

“Morgan,” Hotch said, sounding rushed. “Be careful, okay?”

Morgan frowned. “Careful? I’m not ticklish.” A lie, but he truly wasn’t that bad, okay. “Why should I be careful?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay. Well, unlike Reid I’m not a mindreader.”

“You’re taking this case personally.”

“What? Have you seen Reid? He’s more skittish than ever.”

“You’re taking it personally because of Reid.”

Morgan spluttered, but Gideon chose that exact moment to enter the room and he wasn’t able to reply. “You okay?”

“He’s fine,” Hotch said, and Morgan could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile on Hotch’s lips.

“Reid, fill us in, will you?” Gideon said two minutes later, the room full and Morgan still speechless.

Reid cleared his throat and stood, and Morgan now wished he’d chosen any other seat. “We talked to Mr Johnson. He didn’t admit to our suspicion verbatim, but as our conversation continued he made it very clear he visits the club frequently and has talked to Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Prentiss asked.

“The bartender,” Reid clarified. “We talked to the other victims who, after some gentle prying, admitted to having visited the club too, so I think we can agree that the UnSub probably saw them all there.”

“And are we sure about Charlie?” JJ asked.

“They described the UnSub as about 5’4, lanky, skittish.“ Reid closed his notes. “But what really settled it was that the first victim recognized his voice when she visited the club again this past weekend.”

Prentiss threw her hands out. “So all we gotta do is prove it’s him?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do we do that?”

Reid’s face changed and Morgan realized what he was about to suggest before he even said it. “Reid, no.”

Reid found his gaze, something determined yet much too vulnerable in it. “It’s the only way.”

“It’ll take too long.”

“Not actually. The second victim said they’d only been to the club a handful of times and I don’t see any reason as to why they would lie.” Reid shrugged. “We could get it done in less than a week if I just go every day.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?” Prentiss asked and Reid turned his gaze back to her.

“I’ll go to the club and befriend Charlie. Drop hints of where I live. Maybe we can get a temporary apartment he can break into. We catch him in the act.”

“He knows you’re FBI.”

“Yes, but I never said anything so he won’t recognize my voice. And I mostly stayed out of view when we first visited him.” Morgan remembered. Reid hiding behind him, as if scared of being caught looking too hard. “You of all people know I can disguise myself quite well when I want to.”

Morgan exhaled slowly. “Just. Be careful.”

Reid smiled, something small. “I always am.”

“So are you ticklish?”

“Derek.”

Morgan held up his hands. “I gotta know, pretty boy. What if he actually does tie you up.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Is that so?”

Reid flushed, turning back toward the road. They were sitting across the street from the club, waiting for it to get late enough for Reid to enter. Hotch and Gideon were in another car, all of them having decided to wait outside during the hour or so Reid said he would be inside. It had taken everything in Morgan to agree not to join him.

“I don’t remember us having to take a tickle endurance test before joining the BAU,” Morgan continued, grinning as Reid’s blush intensified. “So I’m just gonna assume you’re either not ticklish at all or that you don’t fully mind it.”

“Not that I’m not easy to crack, I see.”

“Not being easy to crack and having a terrible time while tickled are different things.”

“Nor that I trust you will get to me before it happens?”

“Reid.”

Reid looked at him, maybe only because Morgan had reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I’m, uh, sensitive there,” was his reply.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What? Your wrist?”

“Just a little. It’s enough for me to pull away if someone traces it lightly.”

“I see.” Morgan moved his hand up toward his elbow. “And here?”

“On the inside, yes.”

His shoulder. “And here?”

“No.”

“I think you’re an upper body type of ticklish, am I correct?” Morgan hovered his hand over his ribs now, fingers wiggling in the air.

Reid covered his torso with his arms, a giggle slipping out which was so fucking adorable Morgan nearly combusted right then and there.

“Ah, so I am correct,” was all he said, his hands still hovering. “Come on, let me try.”

“That’s not how that works,” Reid choked out, but he slowly moved his hands to the side and gave Morgan slight access to his ribcage and Morgan wasted no time. “Ah, no!”

“Oh my, Spencer Reid,” Morgan sang, letting his fingers poke and prod the skin while he could, narrowly managing to not let Reid’s flailing hand collide with his nose. “Oh, this won’t do, you know. He’ll break you immediately. We should call it off.”

“No, don’t!” Reid said, answering him, or possibly just being tickled. Morgan wasn’t sure.

“Is your belly ticklish too?”

“Derek, pleas-AH!”

“Very ticklish, I see.”

The sound of Morgan’s phone going off interrupted them. A text from Hotch. ‘We can see you, you know.’ Reid started spluttering, but all Morgan could do was laugh more hysterically than the situation called for.

“Well, guess you’re ready to go meet some other giggly people now,” he said, patting his arm with a grin.

Reid huffed, rubbing at the spot he’d been tickling. “It’s not- I’m not-”

“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to explain.”

Reid nodded. “Okay. I- Thank you.”

Morgan smiled innocently. “For being decent or for tickling you?”

“Oh my god, please shut up.” He opened the door. “I’m going now.”

“Have fun.”

“Shut up.”

“Spence?”

Reid turned back to him. “Yes?”

“Please be careful.”

His face softened. “I will.”

Morgan sat in the car for approximately 23 minutes before he got restless enough to become semi reckless. When he pressed his face to the window of the club he could see Reid, dressed in a mesh top which showed off an unfair amount of his abdomen, leaning against the bar and blinking his glittery eyelids at Charlie. If their theory that he was bisexual due to his way of targeting people of all genders was correct, he should be eating this up. Morgan knew he was.

Would.

His phone rang. “Get back in the car,” Gideon said tiredly.

“I just wanna see.”

“Morgan, it’s an order,” Hotch said somewhere in the background and Morgan sighed. “You can pine over him at a later date.”

“Oh, you’re mean, you know that?” he said and hung up, but not before hearing the rare sound of Hotch laughing.

He watched Reid for a moment longer, knowing he was using borrowed time. He was smiling at the bartender, something shy yet curious. Morgan felt as if he was truly watching Reid take in the situation he was in, which made him feel as if he was prying. He wondered if he would’ve ended up here without the case, blinking timidly in the crowd, or whether Reid truly lived more in his head than in real life.

Reid was disappearing into the crowd. Charlie’s gaze followed him for only a second longer than Morgan liked.

He huffed. He wondered if he would’ve ever known about this, without the case. Why would he? He’d never even tried to tickle Reid before, which was strange considering how playful he was with most people, but maybe not strange when you took into account how Reid would react to physical touch. He shied away from it, or he simply seemed entirely in awe of it. Touch starved, Morgan realized. Touch starved and unsure of how to act.

Oh, Reid.

“My pretend apartment is nicer than my real one,” Reid said the next day, visibly tired not from how late he’d left the club, because it hadn’t been that late and all four of them had left simultaneously, but Morgan imagined he’d stayed up half the night, pondering it all.

“Well, I hope yours has slightly more personality,” Morgan said, taking in the blank walls and beige interior. They had no time to make it quirky. Charlie wouldn’t care anyway. “But hey, at least the bed’s comfy,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows at Reid who merely rolled his eyes.

Garcia was setting up discreet cameras around the apartment, focusing specifically on the windows facing the street in this first floor apartment, the front door and the entire bedroom. Morgan had been busy trying to convince Gideon he could hide perfectly well in the spare room while waiting for the UnSub, but he kept getting shut down.

They didn’t expect the UnSub to break in tonight, since Reid hadn’t told him anything about where he lived yet, but they were planning on having Reid stay at the club until it closed the next night with the hopes Charlie would follow him as he drove to his fake apartment. They’d found out what area he lived in and had Reid set up house only ten minutes away from him to hopefully catch his attention.

“You’re gonna have to stay here for the rest of the week,” Hotch was saying, pointing to the four-poster bed. “But do try to get some sleep too, okay? We’ll alert you if we see him moving.”

“What about you then?”

“We’ll take turns sleeping, don’t worry about us.”

“The bedroom’s all set up, wonder boy,” Garcia said, swiveling around to face Reid. “But no cameras will be on while you’re alone, we promise.”

Reid shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, if everything goes to plan we’ll know exactly when he shows up,” Morgan said. “No need to intrude on your privacy, as fun as it would be.” He poked Reid’s side, finding that now that he knew he was ticklish he couldn’t stop.

Reid squirmed without a sound, maybe trying to keep it cool in front of the others, maybe not wanting to alert anyone else of Morgan’s shenanigans and his adorable reactions.

Garcia grinned though, wide and toothy and utterly delighted. “Oh, do that again. I want to see him smile.”

“Your wish is my command, baby girl.”

Reid properly jerked away this time. “Hey. Don’t be mean.”

“Me? Oh, never.”

“Morgan, behave.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Morgan said, catching Hotch’s eye.

He simply pointed to the monitor which was currently resting on a chair beside the bed. “The camera’s on.”

“Oh, right.” Reid had gone red, which Morgan had found was his new favorite thing. “Looks like you’re in luck, pretty boy. Or should I say ticklish boy.”

“Oh, please, I’m sure you’re just as bad,” Prentiss said from somewhere behind him.

Morgan turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “Careful now, Prentiss. You don’t wanna start a war with me. I have two sisters.”

“Sounds to me like you’re scared, Morgan.”

“Who knew this case would turn into this,” JJ said with a laugh, and when Morgan turned to point to Reid, to say something about it being his fault, Reid had left.

He found him in the kitchen, staring into the mostly empty cupboard he’d opened. Morgan approached loudly enough to not startle him and leaned against the counter next to him. “Hey you.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry.”

Reid glanced at him briefly. “For?”

“Well, I assume I embarrassed you and that’s why you left. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.”

“Reid.”

“You are simply trying to lighten up the mood while using relevant methods related to the case. I’m acting irrational. It’s fine.”

“Reid, please look at me.”

Reid didn’t immediately and Morgan had a terrifying moment of wondering if he’d crossed a line.

When Reid did, he looked so vulnerable Morgan wanted to cry.

“Look,” he started, crossing his arms. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you and, well, this. I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable for you. I’m sorry if it’s nothing and we’re making it seem like it is. But just know we’re really grateful you’re doing this. I’m sorry there’s no other way.”

Reid smiled. “It seems to me as if you’re rambling, Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, shut up, pretty boy.” Morgan made to poke him out of habit and caught himself just in time. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Morgan saw him blush just before he turned away, finally grabbing one of the few glasses from the cupboard. “I don’t really mind it in private.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t tease.”

“I would never.”

“Uh huh.” Reid filled his glass with water and took a sip, staring at Morgan over the edge. His face was still red. Morgan realized he’d not really seen him blush before this case. Get uncomfortable, sure, maybe even border on embarrassed, but never blush. He was slightly obsessed with it now.

“You really think this will work?” Reid asked, setting the glass down on the counter.

“I hope so,” Morgan said. “Otherwise we have no way of proving it’s him.”

“Unless we follow him.”

Morgan hummed. “Actually, maybe we should. Hey, Hotch? Reid had an idea.”

Morgan arrived at headquarters the next day feeling surprisingly well rested. Most of the team was already there, downing cups of coffee and looking over their plans for the day which would involve Reid going back to the club for the third night in a row and then go stay at his fake apartment. The others would be staking out outside while a couple of agents would make sure to follow Charlie in case he decided to go for another victim instead. It was as fool proof as they could make these things.

“Morning,” Morgan sang as he entered the room. “Reid here yet?”

“No.” Gideon was frowning. “I reckon I can’t be mad if he’s a few minutes late seeing as we’re forcing him to go clubbing each night, but he’s never usually not here at this time.”

“He’s not late yet though,” JJ pointed out.

“No,” Gideon replied distractedly and Morgan felt panic seize him. “Let’s wait it out a bit, okay?” Gideon said, catching his expression. “Maybe try calling him.”

“Calling him. Right.” Morgan fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Reid’s number, the room becoming more tense the longer the phone rang without anyone answering. “Dammit. I’m going over there.”

“Morgan, wait,” Hotch started, but Morgan held out a hand to stop him.

“With all due respect, Hotch, I’m not staying here. If Reid’s on his way I will see him coming up.”

“You’re not going alone,” Gideon said, standing. “Let’s go.”

Morgan, Gideon and Hotch sped to Reid’s apartment five minutes later when the genius still hadn’t arrived and still wasn’t answering his phone. Hotch was driving only because both Gideon and Morgan were too freaked out, but that didn’t keep Morgan from urging him to drive faster.

“We should’ve followed Charlie last night too,” Gideon said. “We were careless. Careless with Reid.”

“Let’s calm down now,” Hotch said, rounding a corner. “The UnSub doesn’t actually hurt people.”

“How exactly can we know that?” Morgan asked. “We’ve only seen failed attempts. And Reid. He’s ticklish, right? I don’t think he could pretend he wasn’t. The UnSub might get crazy or something that he’s actually getting a reaction. Who knows what he will do.”

“Morgan.” Gideon’s hand reached back to touch his knee. “Breathe. Reid will be fine. He’ll probably just be tied up and unable to call anyone.”

“Oh, god.” Morgan could see it. Reid struggling against his restraints half the night, all the while remembering nothing but Tobias Hankel and how he’d treated him while tied.

Reid was half-asleep when they kicked the door in, blinking at them in a mix of confusion and relief. “Finally,” he said hoarsely, pulling weakly at his hands. “My blood flow is all messed up.”

“Oh no,” Morgan said, fully entering the room. “Shit, Reid. I’m so sorry.”

Reid exhaled. “Just get me out of these.”

Morgan and Gideon started untying the ropes while Hotch called in the others. They had a new crime scene, after all. He started in on the ropes around Reid’s ankles once done, all of them grateful that the UnSub had at least thrown a blanket over him before leaving to keep him from getting cold. He was very much nearly naked underneath.

“You okay?” Gideon asked quietly when no one said anything, finally managing to free one of his hands which Reid brought down slowly, rotating his wrist.

“I’m better now,” Reid replied, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe I actually slept, but at least that helped time pass. I knew you’d arrive in the morning.”

“We should’ve not even let him get that far.”

Reid opened his eyes. “Derek.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Morgan freed his other hand and Reid, of all things, brought it to Morgan’s chest. “Can someone get me water?”

“I’m on it,” Hotch said, leaving the room as quickly as a ghost while Gideon moved down to untie Reid’s foot and he was free.

They helped him sit up, Morgan grabbing the first items of clothing he could find and throwing it in his direction. “I’m sure you’d rather shower, but-”

“We need to see if there’s any DNA on you,” Gideon finished for him, smiling weakly. “Sorry.”

Reid shrugged, pulling the covers up to his chin. “It’s okay.”

“We’ll try to be quick.”

“Okay.”

“Reid.”

“Yeah?”

Gideon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I won’t rush you, but you’re going to have to tell us exactly what happened, okay?”

“Okay.”

Morgan sighed as Reid fell back into him. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“It was definitely him,” Reid said. “He was wearing a mask, but I recognized his voice.”

“Jesus, he talked to you?”

“Not very much,” Reid mumbled. “But he, uh. He tried to tease me? It was highly uncomfortable, which he probably agreed on since he only did it a couple of times.”

Morgan wrapped his arm around him and pulled him even closer. “I’m gonna kill him,” he repeated.

Reid didn’t reply, only shut his eyes and rubbed at his wrists. The others arrived only minutes later, tiptoeing around them until JJ finally gently asked Reid to get up, leaving the room for him to get dressed.

It was all business after that and Morgan didn’t see Reid until much later, sitting curled up on his couch with Gideon who was balancing a notepad somewhat awkwardly on his lap. “So a noise woke you up.”

“Yes.”

“But before you could get your bearings the UnSub was in your bedroom.”

“Yes.”

“And then what happened?”

Reid picked at his nails, not looking at anyone in particular. “He overpowered me. Taped my mouth so I couldn’t scream before cuffing me to the bed.”

“Cuffing?”

“He wanted to restrain me quickly before changing it into ropes. It makes sense actually. No one would be still for long enough for him to tie them up properly, especially since he doesn’t actually seem to have any type of weapon with him.”

“Your mouth wasn’t taped when we found you.”

“He took it off before he left.”

“So he kept it on for the entire, uh, session?”

“To prevent me from laughing too loud since I live in an apartment complex, yes.” Reid crossed his arm. “He seemed to try to make sure I wouldn’t suffocate since I couldn’t breathe properly. I don’t think it was only hesitation, especially not once he’d been at it for a while.”

Gideon wrote something down. “How long was he at it?”

“A couple of hours. It was hard to keep count after a while, but I am pretty certain he broke in at around 1:30AM and left around 3:30. I think I fell asleep at 5 and you arrived at 8:15.”

The whole team was listening to him now, all hovering in various corners of the apartment. Morgan was standing right in front of them, not sure what to do but wishing Reid would look at him.

“Would you reckon he’s still insecure even though he got what I assume is a satisfying reaction from you?”

Reid hummed. “I would say his conscience is too strong. What difference does it make to me if he does it for two hours or five? As long as he left before morning he had as much of a chance at getting caught no matter the time, meaning not much of a chance at all.” Something crossed over Reid’s face. “But of course, he’s had no chance at checking my schedule, so maybe he got paranoid this time around.”

“He’s getting more desperate, but he’s not bold enough yet to keep going once his impulsivity has passed.” Gideon wrote something down. “Just for clarification, he did tickle you, right?”

Reid twitched and briefly met Morgan’s eyes. “Yes. He tied me up and tickled me for nearly two hours straight. After he’d undressed me.”

“Undressed you?”

“I don’t sleep in just boxers.”

Gideon looked like Morgan felt. Ready to kill a man. Ready to die for Reid. When he looked around, the entire BAU team looked exactly the same.

“That’s all he did,” Reid continued, staring a hole into the floor. “Tickled me everywhere and then left. Like I said he tried to tease me a little. ‘Do you like that?’ ‘That’s a good spot’ and so on. But he was mostly silent. It was nearly the worst part. He felt so-” Reid cut himself off, shaking his head. “Inhuman. Like I was just a thing to him. And since the tape was muffling my laughter the whole ordeal was just so silent. I felt as if I could die and no one would hear.”

JJ and Prentiss were on his side within seconds, but Reid wouldn’t accept their outstretched hands. “I’m fine now,” he insisted. “It’s been over for hours. It didn’t hurt.” He let out a humorless laugh. “It just tickled.”

“Prolonged tickling without a break does hurt,” Gideon insisted. “Especially when forced upon you like this. You don’t have to pretend as if it wasn’t terrifying, Reid.”

Reid leaned his head back and blinked at the ceiling. Morgan had a moment of panic thinking he would start crying, but he simply said in a steady voice, “I guess.”

Gideon closed his notebook. “Well, I think we have enough of the story to piece this together. I’m having agents outside his apartment and work. We’ll catch him in the act, I promise.” He patted Reid’s knee. “You rest.”

Reid sprang up so suddenly he nearly knocked over the coffee table. “No.”

“No?”

“I can’t.”

“What-”

“Stay here.”

“Reid, we can have agents outside here too, but I doubt he will return.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Don’t you want to have a shower first?” Morgan said, speaking for the first time. “Wash him off of you?”

Reid blinked at him. “We have showers at work.”

“Indeed we do,” he replied with a sigh. “All right, come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Morgan panicked only for a moment about the fact that he couldn’t find Reid and hadn’t seen him for the past two hours before Garcia, clever as she was, texted him that he was in her room. When he peeked his head in, Reid was curled up on an armchair in the corner which Morgan didn’t remember belonging there, his gaze stuck on the floor. “Reid.”

“Shh, don’t disturb him,” Garcia said gently. “He’s reciting Don Quixote from memory.”

Morgan blinked. “Right.”

“He found out I’ve never read it, but that I love knight stories.”

“Well, Alonso Quijano isn’t technically a knight but merely believes it from consuming an enormous amount of chivalric romances. However, it is classified as one of the first novels, at least in western society, and therefore I found it only appropriate that she gets to hear the original story and not just the version pop culture has adopted.” Reid looked up and met Morgan’s eyes. “I just find I’m jumping between different translations and it bothers me.”

“You’re distracted,” Morgan said. “Makes sense.”

Reid looked down on the floor again. “I don’t like it,” he muttered and Morgan let out a surprised laugh.

“I’m trying to get him to eat something,” Garcia stage-whispered. “But he keeps saying after the next chapter.”

“Oh? That’s no good, pretty boy. You’ve not eaten since yesterday.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re lying. Baby girl?”

“Yes, sugar?”

“I have a protein bar on my desk. Could you get it?”

“Of course.”

Morgan turned back to Reid once Garcia had left, knowing he didn’t have much time. “Hey. You okay?”

Reid didn’t reply immediately. “Define okay.”

Morgan crouched down to get to his eye level. “I know this is weird for you. I’m sorry. But you have to remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

“This is so stupid.”

“Reid.”

“It’s, like, negative two on the trauma scale.”

“Reid, he literally tied you up and tortured you. I don’t care if he didn’t hurt you, it’s still torture. Even if you might normally like it.”

Reid covered his face. “Please stop. I can’t. Not now.”

Garcia returned before Morgan could reply. “Thanks, mama,” he said, grabbing the protein bar and forcing it into Reid’s hands. “Eat. Garcia will let me know if you don’t.”

“He’s hiding in Garcia’s room,” Morgan said. “I think he’s embarrassed and Garcia’s the only one who didn’t go to his apartment, well, after.”

Gideon sighed. “Well, I can’t blame him.”

“I have no idea what to do.”

“Give him time.” Gideon smiled, small and sad. “He’ll bounce back.”

Morgan rubbed his temples. “He says this shouldn’t be something to be traumatized about.”

“Ah.”

“I wish we’d not let him go home last night.”

“I know, Morgan, I know.”

Reid was hovering by his desk at the end of the day, visibly unsure of what to do.

“Pretty boy.”

He looked up, his face softening. It caught Morgan entirely off guard to see it.

“Uh,” he started, feeling dumb. “Let’s grab dinner.”

Reid shifted. “But the case.”

“The club’s not even open yet. We can have a bit of a break.”

“Okay.”

Morgan grinned and slung an arm over Reid’s shoulders as they walked to the elevator. He didn’t ask anyone else. No one else offered to join.

“So how far did you get in your Don Quixote recital?” he asked later, both of them halfway through their burgers.

“Oh, they just met Cardenio.”

“That tells me absolutely nothing, but I’m sure that’s great.”

Reid let out a laugh. “Nearly halfway through the first volume, Well, it depends on the translation, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I’m quite looking forward to reciting the part where Don Quixote pines over Dulcinea. I think Garcia will like it.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”

“Have you read it?”

“No. Not really my type of literature.”

“The sign of a well read mind is to read it all.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“Oh, no.” Reid grinned at him over his burger. It was the first real smile Morgan had seen all day.

“Hm. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Reid ducked his head. “Am I?”

Morgan blinked. “Of course. I keep calling you pretty boy, aren’t I?”

“I thought it was an insult of some sort.”

“Why would I be insulting you?” Morgan would feel offended had he not known how Reid felt about being complimented. He never really seemed to believe it unless it had anything to do with his intelligence.

Reid shrugged. “I just didn’t expect it to be a pet name.”

“I call Garcia all sorts of pet names,” he countered. “Flirting’s just our thing.”

“So you’re flirting with me?”

Morgan opened his mouth, but whatever he’d been about to say died at the tip of his tongue when he saw Reid tilting his head, eyes so fucking innocent Morgan knew he was messing with him.

Right?

“Yes,” he finally said. “Is that bad?”

“Not now that I know you’re doing it.”

“Is that so?”

“And that you’re doing it to Garcia too. It makes it less loaded.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They finished their food in silence. Morgan could practically see life return to Reid now that he was eating a proper meal. He sat up straighter. Looked less pale. Wasn’t just a shell of a person anymore. It made Morgan briefly consider not bringing him with him to the club - he shouldn’t have to see that man again.

“Tell me about Don Quixote,” he said, shoving fries into his mouth. “Please.”

Reid met his eyes. “From the start?”

“From the start. No reciting, though. We don’t have time.”

Reid smiled, bright and beautiful and heartbreaking. “Right.”

The club closed earlier on Thursdays, but they had been parked outside for the past two hours. They’d not said much, Morgan and Reid, but Reid had been picking at his nails and shaking his leg for nearly the entire time, which said much more than words anyway. Morgan sighed and reached out to place his hand gently on Reid’s knee, mentally slapping himself when Reid jumped at the sudden touch. “Sorry. You just- your leg-”

“Sorry,” Reid said, stilling it instantly. “Old habit.”

“That’s okay.”

“It probably gets annoying though after a while.”

Morgan let out a laugh. “A little,” he admitted.

Reid laughed too, both of them in stitches for nearly a whole minute for no real reason.

“He tickled me there,” Reid said once they’d calmed down. “On my knees.”

Morgan’s smile fell. “I’m sorry.”

“And behind them.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But I want to. I need someone to know exactly what he did, but- it can’t be because it’s a case. It can’t just be evidence. Does that make sense?”

“It does, yeah.”

Reid slid down the seat, eyes on the street outside. “He started with my feet. Pretty classic way to start it, I think. Many people have foot fetishes alongside other kinks. Anyway. He tickled them for maybe 20 minutes and then moved up to my knees, then torso, armpits. Finished with neck before starting over, although he wasn’t doing it in order after that. Just random. That was almost worse.”

“Reid, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Reid let out a humorless laugh. “Actually, the worst part was when he found this spot around here-” He pointed to his upper ribs. “-which was probably my worst spot. I didn’t even know about it. He wouldn’t stop tickling it.”

“Reid.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t you dare apologize. I just- I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything now. It’s a day tomorrow too.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you want to tell everything now feel free to.”

“Actually, maybe I will wait until tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “The club’s about to close anyway.”

As if on cue they watched the security guards usher the last people out, all giggling, all unaware of literal FBI agents sitting just outside.

“He probably has to clean up,” Morgan said. “Hey, hey. Breathe.” Reid had gripped his arm, squeezing it tightly enough for Morgan to turn to fully face him. “Reid. He can’t hurt you again. I won’t let that happen.” He grabbed his hand. “You hear me?”

Reid nodded. “I hear you.”

“We’ll catch this creep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now breathe.”

Reid breathed.

They watched Charlie exit the club twenty minutes later. Hotch called them, all cars slowly trailing the bartender who was driving a tiny red thing as Hotch gave Morgan instructions. They were to take a shortcut once they’d determined what direction he was going in. If everything went according to plan Morgan and Reid would see where Charlie would go in, whether it was an apartment complex or a house. If they were lucky they wouldn’t lose him. Morgan was determined not to lose him.

“Be careful,” Hotch told them before hanging up. Morgan wasted no time and they were soon flying over the roads as subtly as they could, until he swerved into a side street and picked up pace toward the part of town they had guessed Charlie was going toward. Reid was leaning forward, as if willing the car to go faster. He wasn’t speaking, but Morgan was muttering curses enough for them both.

Charlie pulled up to a house on an otherwise calm street and Reid, faster than Morgan had ever seen him move, made to exit the car as soon as Charlie did until Morgan stopped him. “Wait.”

Reid huffed, looking as if he was about to disobey for a second before he deflated, and together they watched Charlie round the car, pace back and forth as if hyping himself up, before disappearing into the shadows. The others rolled up not long after, and together they waited, needing him to actually break in and overpower the victim in order to make sure he was their original UnSub. They had no space for mistakes.

Once Hotch gave the signal they ran, quickly and silently, agents surrounding the house as Morgan kicked the door down and rushed inside, Reid just at his heels. The UnSub must’ve heard the commotion and was trying to climb out the window when they burst into the bedroom upstairs, but they had agents beneath it and it had slowed him down. He raised his hands as Morgan pointed his gun at him. “Don’t shoot,” he begged, practically shaking.

Morgan tilted his head. “Reid.”

Reid crossed the room, turned the UnSub around and cuffed him. Hotch and Gideon entered just as he removed the mask to reveal a silently sobbing Charlie. Morgan didn’t feel bad for him at all.

Reid shoved him against Morgan. “You’re under arrest,” he said, turning toward the victim, a man, freakishly similar to Reid. Charlie was starting to develop a type. “Are you okay?”

Only one of his hands was tied, duct tape covering his mouth. He nodded. He was still dressed.

Reid went to help him. Morgan exhaled and glared at Charlie who was blinking at Reid, mouth agape. “Don’t look at him. Let’s go.”

He pulled him out of the room, nodding at Gideon.

It was over.

Only it wasn’t really over, was it. Reid wouldn’t look at anyone for the rest of the night, nor the next day. He seemed tired. Eyes constantly blinking as if fighting off sleep. Eyes not really meeting anyone’s gaze as he hovered in the background, or hid in Garcia’s room. She’d fed him, she told Morgan, although he’d not eaten much of it.

“Did you sleep last night?”

Reid looked up with a start. Morgan had cornered him on the way from the bathroom. “Oh, uh-”

“Reid,” Morgan sighed. “You should’ve called. Hell, I should’ve offered.”

“Offered what?”

“For you to stay with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Morgan pointed at him. “But I’m offering now.”

“It’s a Saturday tomorrow.”

“So?”

Reid shrugged. “I figured you’d want to be free of me on the weekend.”

Morgan snorted. “I’ll kick you out in the morning, obviously.”

Reid laughed. A genuine, beautiful laugh. “Deal.”

They cooked. That was unusual. He never really cooked for himself, especially not on Fridays, but he figured Reid probably needed the distraction, needed the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in a pan until they realized they’d burnt them, needed the potatoes roasting in the oven and the chicken on the grill, the kale being chopped into pieces slightly bigger than the cubed bell peppers and cucumbers and tomatoes. The mundanity of it all. The normalcy. “I only have beer,” Morgan said. “Beer would be great,” Reid replied. In a different life, maybe Morgan would play music and they would dance. In a different life, maybe Morgan would kiss him.

Yes, that was where he was at. No, this was not a new realization.

“Thank you,” Reid said much later, both of them on the couch, full, sleepy, content enough. He was curled up on one end of it, as opposed to the way Morgan was sprawled out on the other. Morgan had only thought of him giggling under his fingers once and hated himself for it.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Morgan said.

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, well, you’re welcome then.”

Reid ducked his head, but Morgan could still see him worrying his lips through his teeth, over and over. “I also want to thank you for, uh. For acting normal around me? Well, as normal as you can when I act like this.”

Morgan tilted his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that either.”

“I know I’m difficult.”

“You’re the exact opposite of that, Reid.”

Reid looked up. “Really?”

“You’re not lashing out. You’re not demanding anything. You simply slip away. You hide. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hide.”

“I’m embarrassed.”

“I know.” Morgan turned to fully face him. “But you have no reason to be.”

Reid looked down. “I can’t help it.”

“I get that, I just- You’re a victim. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to avoid us all.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“But it was, Reid, it was. He tied you up against your will. He touched you against your will. That’s a violation. I don’t care if you’re left without visible wounds. If you’re ticklish-” Reid twitched at the word. “-it’s torture to get tickled for too long without getting away. It doesn’t matter if you might otherwise like it. If there’s no consent there’s no enjoyment. Hey. Look at me.”

Reid did.

“I can see how this is an uncomfortable situation for you. Trust me, I get it. But no one thinks anything less of you because of it. Hell, we’re all probably just blaming ourselves for letting it happen. And if you’re embarrassed about being ticklish, let me just tell you that we’re all probably just as bad. Well, maybe not me-”

Reid laughed. “Oh, really?”

Morgan grinned. “Hush, pretty boy.”

Reid fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “You called me ticklish boy once.”

“Well, did I lie?”

“I guess not.” His face pinkened. “I, uh. I guess I can’t really explain why it embarrasses me that I’m so- sensitive.”

“I think that’s pretty normal, though? It’s kind of seen as a weakness, and since our reactions are involuntary it can be a bit vulnerable.”

“I guess.”

“Spencer.”

“Mm?”

“Come here.” Reid did without a word. “Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm.” He did, again without questioning him. “See this?” Morgan hovered his hand over Reid’s wrist. “This is a spot that I know is ticklish. Am I tickling it?” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Maybe you feel like I am, or like I will, because you anticipate the sensation and sometimes that’s worse. But I’m not going to do it, because you trust me not to.”

Reid inhaled sharply, watching Morgan’s wiggling fingers for a moment. “What if I wanted you to?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” Morgan started, unsure of why his heart was suddenly racing. “If you wanted me to, I’d probably do it. Because even though we’ve been talking about how it shouldn’t be embarrassing, it’s still really fucking cute that you’re ticklish, Spencer Reid.”

Reid flushed. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears and Morgan watched how they grew red first, his blush then spreading down over his face. Maybe, if Morgan flustered him for long enough, his neck would join in.

He still hadn’t pulled his hand away. Morgan experimentally moved upward, hovering over the inside of Reid’s elbow. “Just say when.”

He kept moving over his arm, watching how Reid visibly started recoiling as he got closer to his neck. He’d probably start giggling if Morgan kept it up, which was so adorable Morgan nearly did, but he moved back to his wrist, unsure of where the line was. He refused to cross it.

“He didn’t tickle my arms,” Reid suddenly said. “I guess it’s an unconventional spot.”

“Like palms.”

“And shoulders.”

“Your shoulders aren’t ticklish.”

“You remember.”

“Of course I do.”

“My palms are.”

“Oh? Isn’t that something I’m supposed to figure out myself?”

“Not if you do that.”

“I won’t touch you until you tell me to.”

“That’s cruel.”

Morgan let out a laugh. “Is it? I thought I was being quite merciful.”

“You know how I feel about it.”

“Do I?”

“You’re a profiler.”

“I try not to profile my friends.”

Reid huffed. “So how did you guess?”

“That you like it? Oh, I don’t need to be a profiler to figure that out.”

“I want you to do it.”

“Tickle you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Now?”

Reid hesitated.

“I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to,” Morgan promised. “We can even have a safe word.”

“Vegas.”

“Vegas? Okay. Can I start here?”

“Uh huh.”

“I need you to say yes, pretty boy.”

“Yes. Please.”

Morgan let his fingertips collide with Reid’s palm, his fingers twitching as Morgan moved over the skin gently, not necessarily tickling it, but being so very gentle he knew it probably tickled anyway. He glanced up and saw Reid staring at his hand, as if mesmerized. “How’s that?”

“On the verge of unbearable.”

“And this?” He moved upward, ghosting over Reid’s wrist, grinning when Reid made a sound which was eerily similar to a yelp.

“Much more unbearable,” he breathed out, covering his face with his other hand.

“You ready for me to go for your elbow?”

“Wait. Vegas. No, wait, don’t stop, but just- wait.”

Morgan stilled his hand, eyes never leaving Reid’s face. “Just say when.”

“I think this will make me start squirming.”

“That’s okay. That’s part of it. You’re not supposed to stay still. Well, unless you’re into that. But squirmin’s half the fun.”

“Right.” Reid breathed out a laugh. “Okay, go.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, go.”

“You sure sure?”

“Derek- ah!”

Morgan laughed as he wiggled his fingers over the inside of Reid’s elbow, following him when Reid moved, a dance of some sort. “I’m gonna get your neck now.” He gave Reid a couple of seconds in case he wanted to protest before curing his fingers beneath his chin, delighted at how Reid finally giggled. “Oh, that’s a good one, huh?”

“Oh my god,” he said through his laughter, his voice high pitched, his body unraveling in order to instinctively push Morgan away. “Not there.”

“No? How ‘bout here?” Morgan wormed his fingers under Reid’s arms, causing a ripple of events that resulted in him nearly getting a foot to his face. He grabbed his ankle. “Careful.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” His smile was so bright Morgan nearly cried.

“Hmm.” He squeezed his foot. “Tell me if you want it.”

“That’s so mean.”

“Nah, it’s the opposite of mean, pretty boy. I’m being considerate.”

Reid’s smile fell. “He wasn’t.”

Morgan dropped his foot. “Reid. He was an UnSub. He had no consideration for others. That doesn’t say anything about your worth just because you happened to cross his path.”

Reid nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re not believing me.”

“I will.” Reid sat up. “I promise I will one day, I just- I need time.”

“I have all the time in the world. And whatever it is that you feel about this, I want to understand.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

Morgan grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. Now.” He hovered a hand over his knee. “What was it you said about your knees again?”

Reid giggled, his reaction instant, genuine, so fucking adorable that Morgan knew he could never pretend it wasn’t again. He vowed to make this enjoyable for him again, even if it still embarrassed him. Even if Morgan might not fully understand, although he wanted to try.

“We’re not all creeps,” Reid would say later, both of them lying side by side on the bed. The room was dark, although the light coming from the street lights outside illuminated Reid enough for Derek to see him moving. “I need you to know that.”

“I know, pretty boy.”

“A lot of us value consent.”

“I know.”

“Although many like bondage.”

“Do you?”

Reid hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that’s fine too.”

“I don’t even think it’s because of, well, you know. I just don’t think it’s my cup of tea.”

“Totally get that.”

Reid turned to his side, hand hovering over Morgan’s ribs. “So are you ticklish?”

Morgan grabbed his hand. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Sounds a bit like a lie to me.” He was grinning. Morgan had to laugh. “I’ll get you, Derek Morgan.”

“Only for me to get revenge, right?”

Had it not been dark Morgan was sure he’d see him blush. “Shut up.”

“Mm, make me.”

Reid did. It was their fourth kiss of the night, but who was counting.

(Morgan was, although he lost count by morning.)

Two weeks later they went back to the club, hand in hand.