Chapter Text
The unsub is a delusional narcissist who believes himself to be a scientist, Spencer Reid thinks frantically, repeating the profile in his head to keep himself calm. He truly believes that what he’s doing will lead to a cure for leukemia, almost certainly because he or a family member is afflicted. Because of the personal nature of his experiments, his goal is never to kill, and he’s likely rationalized the subsequent deaths of his subjects as not being his fault. He’s so far inside his own head that he will respond very negatively to criticism, and it might even cause him to further devolve.
That’s what Reid is counting on, actually. He and Morgan had been assigned to check out the house of a hospital social worker who fit the profile, while the rest of their team paired off and investigated other potential unsubs. When they’d heard screams coming from inside the house, Morgan had radioed for backup and then the two of them had split up to search the house.
Reid had the fantastic fortune of being the one to find the man who is now certainly their unsub - Patrick Collins - in the basement, standing over a makeshift operating table and getting ready to extract spinal fluid and bone marrow from a sobbing, restrained victim.
“Mr. Collins,” Reid says loudly, unwilling to wait even the mere minutes it would take Morgan to find them. “FBI, drop the instrument.”
“It’s Doctor Collins,” the other man hisses, stepping toward Reid and away from his latest victim.
Good. That’s what Reid wants, to get Collins’ attention away from the victim and onto him. Keep him talking, keep stalling until Morgan gets here.
“It’s not doctor, though, is it?” Reid asks, keeping his gun trained on Collins. “This is coming from someone with three PhDs - we did our research, and you’re not a doctor of anything.”
Collins’ face contorts in rage, his hand shaking as he holds the needle aloft. “I’m advancing the field of-”
“I asked you to drop your weapon,” Spencer says calmly. “I won’t ask again.”
“This?” asks Collins, waving the large syringe around. “This isn’t a weapon, you fool! The research I’ve done with this is going to save-”
“As far as I’m concerned, it is a weapon,” Reid interrupts him. “You killed three people with it and paralyzed three more.”
“Shut up! You’re lying!”
“I’m not,” insists Reid. “And you provoked life-threatening reactions in six cancer patients when you attempted to immunize them with bone marrow that didn’t match their HLA type. Tell me, Mr. Collins, what kind of doctor does that? Are you that uneducated or do you just not care?”
“Enough!” roars Collins.
Well, at this point Reid’s definitely gotten Collins’ attention off of the victim and onto him, but the young agent is starting to suspect he’s pushed the unsub a little too far with his criticism. He steadies his gun - he doesn’t want to hurt Collins, who clearly needs help, and he wills Morgan to get here quickly so the other agent can tackle Collins and be done with it.
“There are always failures in clinical trials,” Collins growls, his voice trembling with fury.
“There’s always supposed to be informed consent, too,” says Reid. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you’re not a doctor-”
Collins roars and lunges for him, twisting his body in such a way that when Reid’s gun goes off, it only hits Collins in the shoulder and he crashes headlong into the young agent, sending both of them to the ground as Reid’s gun skids across the floor. Reid’s head hits the stone floor hard and he grunts, lying dazed for a few seconds and unfortunately giving the larger man on top of him a chance to overpower him.
“I can’t understand why the FBI would want to impede the progress of science,” Collins grits out, clearly in pain from the bullet in his shoulder. “But I need all the samples I can get, and no hotshot fed’s gonna stop me from finding a cure for my sister.”
Reid cries out as the other man flips him over, his head still throbbing as Collins rucks up his shirt and FBI vest and then takes both of his wrists in one meaty hand even as Reid tries to struggle. Collins’ other hand presses into his spine, feeling around for vertebrae in a manner that Reid knows is pseudo-scientific and most likely part of the ritual to feed the unsub’s delusion of being a doctor. Whatever the reason for it, Spencer starts to panic when he realizes the unsub’s going to stick that large, unsanitary needle into him and most likely either paralyze or kill him in attempt to extract spinal fluid and bone marrow. He opens his mouth to cry for help and manages to get out a yell of Morgan’s name before Collins hisses and wraps his free hand around Reid’ throat.
Once Spencer starts thrashing around in pain and gasping for air, Collins lets go and positions the needle on his back in a place that Reid realizes with a sob is probably going to paralyze him for the rest of his life.
“FBI!”
The needle against Reid’s skin twitches but doesn’t break skin and Reid could almost sob with relief when he hears Derek’s voice.
“Drop the weapon now,” Morgan continues as the other victim continues to cry in the background.
“It’s not a weapon,” Collins growls, tightening his hold on Reid’s wrists.
Spencer can only hope that Derek takes a different approach at handling the unsub than his own misguided attempts.
“Of - of course it’s not, my mistake,” Morgan says after a beat of silence.
“Now get out of here so I can continue with my research,” says Collins.
“I can’t do that, mis- I mean, Doctor Collins,” Morgan continues. Reid’s whole body floods with warmth and relief as he realizes just how clever Morgan’s being. “Johns Hopkins contacted us and asked us to locate you and bring you in so you can join their team.”
“Then how come Mr. Three PhDs here shot me and tried to arrest me? You can’t fool me.”
“He’s just jealous that he can never accomplish what you’re doing,” Morgan says quickly, clearly appealing to the unsub’s narcissistic personality disorder. “I - I can assure you we’ll deal with him properly once we have him in custody. I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through, Dr. Collins.”
Collins huffs. “It’s about time somebody recognized my accomplishments.”
“If you’d just get off him so I can handcuff him, we’ll be off to Hopkins in no time,” Morgan assures him.
“Oh, sure,” Collins says agreeably. “You know, I’m glad you interrupted, because I didn’t even think to check his family history for cancer first and-”
There’s a loud grunt behind Reid and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
“Patrick Collins, you’re under arrest for the murders of Cameron Marquez, Katherine Meyers, and Marion Park,” Morgan growls, the distinct clink of handcuffs telling Reid that it’s finally safe to get off the ground and tend to the other victim, ignoring his throbbing head in the process.
xxx
After Spencer is assured that he hasn’t suffered a concussion and is released from the hospital, Morgan drives him back to the hotel. The dark-skinned agent is sitting stone-faced and silent in the driver’s seat, barely engaged in Reid’s feeble attempts to make conversation and making the genius feel even worse about himself than he already does.
Morgan gets like this every time an unsub tries to go after Reid, and Reid’s convinced it’s because the older man is exasperated and fed up with rescuing Reid from situations that a better agent wouldn’t have gotten themselves into.
The rest of the team is already back at the hotel, and Spencer meekly follows Derek into their shared room, his mind set on a hot shower and a clean pair of pajamas to sleep in.
"Um, do you want first shower, or do - should I?" Reid asks haltingly.
Morgan just shrugs, crossing the room quickly and flopping into an armchair before putting his head in his hands.
"Oh-kay," says Reid slowly. "I'll just - right."
Morgan doesn't honor that with any sort of response.
Spencer opens his suitcase and selects a pair of pajamas, matching ones that are pale blue in color and smell like his lavender laundry detergent. Then he heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before turning on the shower and stripping out of his clothes, which are smeared with dirt and blood.
The shower is just on the right side of too hot and Reid steps under the water gratefully, washing away the day. Unfortunately, he can't cleanse himself of the shame that’s crawling through him, the whispers in his head telling him that Morgan’s tired of saving him - that the whole team is fed up with his damsel in distress act. Reid is too, make no mistake.
Probably the worst part about it is that it always seems to be Morgan that finds him, as opposed to another member of the team that Reid isn’t constantly worried about impressing. Reid has long since come to terms with the fact that his little inconvenient crush on the other agent has no chance of ever going anywhere, but it would be nice if life wasn’t constantly reminding him how much of a chance he doesn’t have.
Spencer sighs, rubbing shampoo through his hair. It’s getting long, longer than he’s had it in a while - but just the other day Derek told him how much he liked Reid’s hair long, so. He’s probably not going to cut it for a while. Maybe his long hair will help fix the fact that Morgan doesn’t seem to want to speak to him at all. Reid has to - he’s going to go out there and let Morgan know that he’s going to be more careful, he really is, and that he’s sorry for all the times the other agent’s had to waste valuable time and energy on him.
xxx
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Derek Morgan is contemplating cracking open the minibar and drowning his sorrows in tiny bottles of bureau-funded alcohol. His whole body is thrumming with nervous energy and adrenaline from seeing Spencer on the floor like that, completely at the unsub’s mercy with his gun halfway across the room - at this rate, without something like a nightcap to calm Morgan down, it’s going to take him hours to fall asleep.
Don’t get him wrong, Morgan would run unarmed into a hail of bullets if it meant that he could somehow protect Reid and keep him safe. He just - he just sometimes wishes that Reid would be a little more cautious and have a little more regard for his own life. He’s too selfless, is the problem. Spencer Reid is still too trusting, selfless, and naive than anyone who’s been in the FBI for nine years has any right to be.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, Morgan thinks. It’s admirable. It’s part of what Morgan loves about him. Er, likes about him. Because they’re really close friends, and although Morgan’s told Garcia he loves her about a dozen times in the past week, the phrase somehow feels different in relation to Reid, like it has more weight. So he’s never said it.
“I love you” only becomes important in relation to Reid when the kid’s in a life-or-death situation, which unfortunately happens far more frequently than Morgan would like. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to stop himself from blurting out some truly sappy and embarrassing things when Reid’s appeared on the verge of death - and Morgan's never had to actually say any of that stuff, because as much as Spencer is a complete trouble magnet, he also has an uncanny ability to cheat death in increasingly precarious ways.
Morgan’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door opening, followed by Reid stepping out in a cloud of steam. He’s about to make a joke - something like Save any hot water for me, pretty boy? - but then he remembers that he’s mad at the younger agent for putting his life in jeopardy yet again.
“Shower’s all yours,” Reid says quietly. He digs through his suitcase and finds a comb, then begins running it through his hair, which is pin-straight when it’s wet.
Morgan grunts in acknowledgment and heads for the bathroom, unable to look at Reid for more than a few seconds without feeling the urge to yell at him. Or hug him. Morgan’s not exactly sure which one he wants to do more, which is kind of unsettling.
The shower already smells like the body wash and shampoo that Reid favors, some combination of eucalyptus and spearmint that Morgan's pretty sure is from Bath & Body Works. Reid used to use shampoo that smelled like vanilla, but Morgan knows an unsub ruined that about two months ago by commenting how nice Reid's hair smelled when he was holding him at gunpoint.
God, it makes Derek's blood boil when he thinks about how often Reid gets into trouble like that. He knows Spencer can't help it, but it doesn't stop him from being a tiny bit angry at the younger man. Morgan just cares about him so much, is the thing, and at this rate he's going to die at an early age from high blood pressure instead of the myriad of other ways he could die doing this job.
None of the other agents seem to have the same problem. At least, Morgan hopes they don’t. That’s how he knows he’s in a little bit of trouble when it comes to his pretty boy - thinking about Hotch, Prentiss, or (god forbid) Rossi feeling the same way about Spencer as Derek does makes his face hot with something that feels a lot like jealousy.
You’ve just gotta make it through tonight, Morgan tells himself once he’s out of the shower. Just make it through the night and tomorrow you can sleep in your own bed, play with your dog and kick back and watch some TV by yourself.
He dries himself off, pulls on a pair of black cotton boxer briefs, then pads out into the hotel room to find Reid curled up on his side of the bed, propped against the headboard as he reads. His hair has already partially dried from the shower, frizzing at the ends into sweet little curls, and he’s wearing those big glasses he uses after he takes out his contacts. Morgan’s having a hard time remembering to stay mad at him when he looks that adorable. Especially in those matching fucking pajamas, Jesus.
“Are - are you alright?” Reid asks.
Morgan jolts and realizes he’s been caught staring. Spencer’s cheeks are slightly pink.
“M’fine,” he mumbles, walking over to his suitcase and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants.
“Is everything okay?”
Morgan doesn’t answer that for a few seconds, and the pause seems to make Reid even more anxious, because seconds later he’s stumbling to continue, “Because I feel like you might be mad at me and you seem upset and I don’t know why because the case is over and the latest victim didn’t die and everything turned out as okay as it could and I know you’re probably getting tired of saving me but I didn’t want to wait for backup because he had his needle out and he was about to-”
“Reid,” Morgan says sharply. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut. “Reid, I’m not mad at you, I just - I’m just-”
“Disappointed?” Reid fills in, clearly assuming the worst as he closes his book and puts it on the nightstand.
“No, that’s not it, I just wish you’d be a little more careful.”
Reid snorts. “You do the same thing, like, all the time!”
“What, rushing into a confrontation with no backup?”
“Yes,” says Spencer, sounding exasperated.
“Yeah, but I can handle it,” Morgan insists.
A hurt look passes over Reid’s face and Morgan instantly feels bad. “And I can’t?”
“Judging by today’s little fiasco, apparently not,” says Morgan, forcing himself to remain firm. “Look, kid, I just-”
“Don’t call me that,” Reid snaps.
Morgan looks over at him in surprise. Spencer’s gotten off the bed, slouching a bit with his hands clasped together and his mouth twisted into a frown. “What?”
“Don’t call me a kid,” says Spencer, keeping his eyes on the floor. “I’m not a kid, I’m 30 years old.”
“When did that suddenly become a problem? I’ve been calling you kid since I first met you.”
“It became a problem when I realized you don’t trust me.”
Morgan raises his eyebrows so high they feel like they’re flying off his face. “Don’t - don’t trust you? Kid, I - shit - Reid. Spencer. Of course I trust you.”
“Do you, though?” asks Reid quietly.
“Look - I trust you with my back completely. Hundred percent, you know I do. I just don’t always know if I should trust you with your own back.”
Spencer huffs, crossing his arms in front of him. “Why does it matter so much to you? I’m comfortable with what I’m doing, so-”
“See, that right there is the problem,” Morgan cuts him off. “I care about you, pretty boy, alright? You shouldn’t be comfortable with what you’re doing because you keep getting yourself in these situations where you’d be a lot worse off if I hadn’t shown up when I did.”
Reid’s eyes flick up to meet Morgan’s. “That’s happened to everyone else on our team at least three times, and I don’t see you telling them to be more careful.”
“Yeah, but - I don’t care about them like I care about you. Okay?”
Reid opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out and his eyes widen slightly. Morgan’s chest tightens and he wonders if he’s getting through to the other man at all.
Eventually, Reid stammers, “P-plus, they - they all care about me too, right? No one else has tried to give me a talk like this. I can take care of myself, Derek, I promise. You don’t have to worry.”
Morgan can’t help but laugh for multiple reasons, and it comes out low and rumbly. He watches as Spencer worries his bottom lip between his teeth and feels a tug of heat in his stomach before quickly getting himself back under control.
“First of all, I think we both know the only time I’m not constantly worried about all of you is when I’m asleep, and even then I sometimes have nightmares so that’s off the table too,” he starts. At first he isn’t sure if he wants to continue, but then he decides that Reid needs extra reassurance right now. “And I sure hope Rossi doesn’t care about you the same way I care about you. That’d be creepy.”
It startles a laugh out of Reid at first but leaves a blush high on his cheeks in its wake. Morgan grins.
“Okay, I guess I get it,” Reid says quietly after a moment of companionable silence. “It just feels a bit like being babied, that’s all. I understand it, but I don’t appreciate it.”
Morgan rolls his eyes, scoffing, and just like that they’re back to arguing. “No, if - if you understood it, you’d stop putting yourself in those situations, Reid.”
“Shockingly, this job doesn’t give me an overabundance of control over high-risk hostage situations, Morgan,” Reid snaps back.
Morgan takes a couple of steps toward him and says, “Then just use your sidearm more, Jesus. How’d you lose it, anyway?”
“I lost it when he tackled me,” Spencer mutters, like it pains him to say it. “Listen, it could’ve happened to anyone and you’re making me feel like a child, so if we could just go to bed…” He trails off, looking back up and seemingly realizing that Morgan is much closer to him than before. He swallows loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing along the column of his pale throat. “And could you put a shirt on, please?”
"Why, don't like what you see?" Derek teases, pouting in a way that he hopes might diffuse the tension.
Instead, Spencer's eyes go wide and the tension in the room skyrockets, morphs into something else entirely. Derek sees it in the way Spencer takes too long to answer, in the way his teeth sink harshly into his bottom lip, in the way his eyes flit down and back up so fast Derek would've missed it if he wasn't watching.
Oh.
Reid does like what he sees. That's the problem, it's distracting him.
Looking back at Reid's face, it's easy to tell that he knows Morgan's figured it out. Fear splashes across his eyes and he starts to stammer, "No, I'm-"
“Hey,” Morgan cuts him off, his voice barely a whisper. “Hey, shh, it’s okay.”
Reid shakes his head frantically. He looks panicked, and Derek realizes that there’s no going back from here, not really. Their friendship has just been unavoidably altered and Reid is going to act weird around him for at least the next month because that’s how Reid operates.
That’s how Morgan rationalizes his next move later, to himself - after all, if their friendship just got a little bit fucked up anyway, why not fuck it up a little bit more in the process of assuring Reid that he isn’t bothered?
“M-Morgan?” Reid stammers. He brings his hand up to touch Derek’s, which is cupping his cheek tenderly.
“Hey,” Morgan says again. “I promise I don’t mind.”
Spencer gulps. “Yeah, but - oh god, I’m sorry, I haven’t been thinking straight since you said you cared about me differently than you did anyone else and I know I’m overthinking things because that’s what I do and now I’m probably making you uncomfortable and we should just go to bed, I promise I’ll stay on my side-”
“Reid,” Morgan cuts him off. “Spencer.”
“What?”
Derek takes a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”
“What?”
Morgan laughs softly as Reid’s cheek heats up beneath his palm. “I said, can I kiss you?”
It takes Reid a couple seconds to respond. “You - you want to?”
“Yeah, baby. Is that a yes?”
For once in his life, Dr. Spencer Reid seems lost for words, but he nods minutely a couple of times, his hand sweaty where it’s covering Derek’s.
Morgan leans forward, his heart beating so loudly in his ears he’s struggling to hear anything else. But as his eyes slip closed and he presses his lips to Reid’s, his ears pick up a quiet whimper. Derek isn’t sure if Spencer even knows he just made that sound, but it makes the older man possessive enough to place his other hand on Reid’s back, hauling him closer as their mouths slide together.
Reid’s lips are full and warm, and Morgan takes great pleasure in nibbling and sucking on his lush bottom lip until Reid moans and kisses the corner of his mouth, then responds in kind by sucking Morgan’s top lip into his mouth. Derek groans, moving his hand from Reid’s cheek up to tangle it in his messy hair.
The rest of Spencer’s body might be warm, but his hands are freezing, which Derek discovers when the other man moans again and wraps both his arms around Derek’s neck. Morgan hisses and pulls back, an instinctive move against the two large ice cubes now pressed to his shoulders.
“What happened?” Reid asks, sounding a bit dazed. “Did I do something wrong?”
Morgan looks at him. His lips look bitten red and puffy already, his face flushed, and the blush is starting to spread down to his chest, where his collarbone peeks out of his pajama top. He looks gorgeous, and since Morgan’s still holding onto him he hauls him back in close, kisses him once hard and murmurs, “Nothing's wrong, baby. Come here,” against his lips.
The next time Spencer moans, Derek takes advantage of it and slips his tongue into the other man's mouth. Reid clutches harder at the back of his neck, digging his nails in a bit and making Morgan hiss as shivers travel down his spine. It's good, it's so good - he tastes sweet, like peppermint candy, and Morgan clutches at the crisp fabric of his pajama shirt, groaning quietly when Spencer sucks tentatively on his tongue.
Then the kiss deepens even further and, shit, Derek didn't think they would get this far, he swears he only meant for this to be a gentle reassurance to Spencer that the feeling - the attraction - was mutual. Now look where they are. He's got an armful of genius, one hand tangled in Spencer's long, damp hair (and it's gonna look so good after this, Derek knows, so goddamn good and messy and all because of him), the other hand holding onto one half of a matching fucking pajama set like his life depends on it, and his tongue down the kid's throat.
Reid moans again, one of his hands sliding up until his blunt fingernails are scratching helplessly against Morgan's close-shaven head. It sends shivers running through him, tearing a growl from his throat as he uses the hand he has in Reid's hair to tilt the younger man's head at a better angle.
Derek had thought they were already pressed as close together as they could possibly be, but when they finally close that last inch between them and their hips fit together, Derek's brain shorts out and Reid whimpers a soft Oh against his lips. Fuck.
"Pretty boy," Derek mumbles mindlessly into the kiss. "So damn pretty."
He feels Spencer smile, that sweet mouth stretched wide for a second before pulling back entirely as Morgan makes an unhappy sound.
"Wait, wait," Reid stammers, looking dazed.
"This okay?"
Reid nods quickly. "Yeah, it's - it's great, and 'okay' is far too dispassionate of a word to describe this. I just need to take my glasses off."
"Oh." Morgan suddenly remembers that Spencer's been wearing his glasses this whole time, and as he looks at them now he realizes that they're all fogged up and smudged. Whoops.
Even that doesn't manage to kill the mood, though, and as Reid darts over to the bedside table to take his glasses off, Morgan realizes with a jolt that he's gotten half-hard in his sweats just from them kissing. He reaches down to adjust himself and wonders if the kid's having the same problem. It doesn't look like it, but then again Spencer's front is twisted away from him as he carefully takes off his glasses and puts them in their travel case.
But as Reid straightens back up, he turns a bit and it turns out those thin, loose pajama bottoms really don’t hide anything. He’s got the same situation in his pants that Morgan does, fuck, and before Morgan even knows what he’s doing he’s got the younger man crowded against the wall, tasting those plush lips once more.
They’re able to fit even closer together without Spencer’s glasses in the way, and Morgan feels a pair of hands settle tentatively on his lower back, long fingers trembling against his skin. He uses both of his hands to cup Reid’s face, smoothing his thumbs over Reid’s cheekbones and moaning as the other man bites at his lower lip.
“Pretty boy’s a biter,” Derek mutters. “Who would’ve thought?”
Reid laughs quietly, then moans in surprise as Morgan eases a thigh between his legs, their bodies slotting together. The kiss is addicting, and Derek feels like he’s drowning in it - except instead of fear, there’s just exhilaration and disbelief washing over him in waves. He didn’t expect it to be this good. He didn’t expect it to even happen, actually, but now that it is, his brain’s kind of melting out his ears.
Derek presses forward more firmly, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and fighting down a growl when he feels Reid hard against his thigh. He can’t bear the thought of tearing himself away from Spencer’s mouth for even one second to ask how far he wants to take this, but Reid answers that question for him a moment later by tentatively thrusting his hips up and then moaning around Morgan’s tongue. Oh.
“Mmm,” Spencer sighs, his grip on Morgan’s waist tightening when the larger man ruts forward in response. “Oh, god-”
“God, do that again,” Morgan encourages him. He drops a hand to Reid’s slim waist, hissing in pleasure when his hips work forward once more. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”
He breaks away from Spencer’s mouth entirely to kiss up his jawline.
“Morgan-”
“Derek,” Derek insists, kissing right below Reid’s ear and then tonguing at his earlobe hotly.
“Derek,” Spencer repeats. Then he laughs softly. “God, that feels weird to say out loud.”
Morgan squeezes his hip. “In case you haven’t noticed, this whole thing we’re doing is weird.” He feels Reid deflate a little. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am, Spencer,” says Derek, noting how weird it feels for Reid’s first name to roll off his tongue. He bites down right below Reid’s ear to distract himself, sucking a light mark, and Reid’s back arches as he lets out an obscenely loud moan. God, is that a sweet spot, or is Spencer just that responsive?
Morgan licks down his neck, kissing at the soft skin as he grinds their hips together again. This time Reid digs his fingernails in, little pinpricks stinging at the small of Morgan’s back in the most delicious way, and it's not too hard for Morgan's imagination to wander further, to Reid clawing at his back as Morgan thrusts inside him.
"Fuck," he mutters against Spencer's throat. His cock twitches in his sweats, hard and heavy as he ruts against Reid's thigh.
Reid's head falls back against the wall with a light thunk when Derek nibbles at his collarbone, pushing his pajama top out of the way to get access to more of that creamy pale skin. He reaches up with one hand and clutches desperately at the back of Derek's head, fingers trembling like he wishes there was hair to pull on.
Speaking of hair, Derek slides his hand up from Spencer's cheek to thread his fingers through his damp, tangled mess of hair, tugging his head gently to one side so his mouth has more room to wander. Reid goes crazy at that, his hips rocking forward as he pushes his head against Morgan's hold and chokes out a groan.
"You like having your hair pulled?" Derek murmurs.
"N-no."
He laughs quietly. "You're a terrible liar, you know that, right?"
Morgan straightens back up and captures Spencer's mouth with his own before the other man has the chance to reply. Reid hums, a pleased little noise that Morgan swallows up as he gently fucks his tongue into his mouth, and squirms in Morgan's hold, trapped between the larger man and the wall.
Derek's resolve finally snaps when Spencer thrusts forward again, his dick coming obscenely close to brushing against Derek's. He grunts in frustration, stepping back a little but only so he can fit a hand between them and palm Reid's cock.
"Oh god," Reid chokes out.
"This okay?" Morgan asks, feeling out the shape of him through the thin pajama bottoms.
"Yeah. Is this - is this actually happening or am I dreaming? Nnn, oh, because usually my dreams aren't this vivid and you don't ask nicely for anything, you just hold me down and take what you want-"
"Jesus," Derek hisses. "This isn't a dream, but you got me curious now, baby."
He rubs Spencer through his pants, his thumb seeking out the head of his cock and discovering that the fabric's already damp with precome. God, this kid's gonna kill him. He dips back in for another kiss as his fingers creep toward Reid's waistband.
He feels out the tiny, fine trail of hair leading under the pajama bottoms, thumbing at the waistband before slipping just his fingertips underneath. Reid moans loudly and jerks his hips up into the contact, kissing Morgan even more desperately as he shudders under his touch. Spencer's skin is warm to the touch, electric under Derek's hands, and he finds himself holding his breath as he inches his fingers downward.
He could've guessed that Spencer wasn't wearing underwear from the fact that his pajama bottoms were wet with precome, but it's still a shock for Derek's hand to feel him bare, hot and hard and leaking without any more fabric separating them. He makes a low noise in his throat, tugs on Reid's hair a little as he pushes the elastic waistband of the pajama bottoms down out of the way.
Reid bites his lip then breaks the kiss with a gasp at the first slow pull of Derek's hand, and the hand on Derek's neck flies down to join the other one clawing at his back. Morgan groans and looks down in between them, feeling his own dick twitch as he watches the pink, flushed head of Spencer's cock disappearing over and over into his fist.
"Oh my god," Spencer breathes, his whole body jerking when Derek tightens his grip. The next glide of his fist feels even slicker.
When Morgan twists his wrist experimentally, a strained noise tears from Reid's throat and he drops both his hands to squeeze Morgan's ass through his sweatpants.
"Oh, yeah, you like that?" Derek murmurs triumphantly.
Reid squeezes his ass lightly in reply, making both of them laugh quietly before Morgan picks up the pace of his hand and leans back in to kiss the other man senseless once more.
It isn't long before Derek's back to rolling his hips forward, this time letting Reid set the pace with his hands on his ass. This makes his arm in between them kind of cramped, but it's completely worth it to hear all the soft, breathy noises Spencer's making in response. Fuck, his cock is so wet, flushing and turning an ever deeper red color in Morgan's dark hand when he breaks away to look in between them.
"More," Spencer whispers, "more, god, please..."
When Derek does as asked and speeds up his hand even more, though, Reid pushes him away when he tries to kiss him again - only to start working at the buttons of his collared pajama shirt.
"You're way too coordinated - fuck - for someone getting a handjob," Morgan grunts, already missing the other man's hands on his ass.
Spencer giggles, and it turns into a moan halfway through. "I need to - get this - uhhn, please - off, I don't want to get it messy, oh god-"
"Fuck, that's so hot," Derek marvels. "Here, pretty boy, I'll race you."
He starts moving his hand even faster, pulling out every trick he knows in an effort to surprise Spencer with his orgasm. Reid's face crumples in pleasure, his mouth dropping open as his fingers shake and fumble at the third button.
"Morgan, you're such a jerk-"
"Derek."
"Derek, you're a fucking jerk, oh my god-"
Morgan laughs, rubbing his thumb over the leaking head as Reid finally gets the third button open and frantically moves on to the fourth. This might be a little too mean, but he tugs on Spencer's hair just to see what happens.
"No no no, god, I hate you, I hate you so much-"
"No you don't," Morgan sings, leaning past Spencer's shaking arms to plant a kiss on the other man's slack mouth.
"Then just give me a second, Derek please, I'm - oh, I'm-"
"Yeah?" Derek murmurs, just as Reid gets the fifth and final button open, desperately trying to pull his arm out of the sleeve. "Am I gonna make you come?"
"Oh my god," Reid moans, half-giggling as his hips start to jerk up helplessly. "Ohhhh, ohh-"
And he comes just like that, clapping a hand over his mouth as his back arches and his cock starts to spurt in Derek's hand. Most of it lands on his stomach and chest, newly bared to Morgan's greedy eyes, but his face is hands-down the best part. Derek's never seen Spencer look so blissed-out, his face open and so, so young, and he wishes he had a photographic memory so he could close his eyes and see Spencer mid-orgasm whenever he wants.
As Reid comes down, Morgan pushes his hand away from his mouth and replaces it with his lips instead. Spencer's loose, pliant now that he's come, and he shudders one more time in Derek's arms before making a noise of discomfort and twitching his hips away from Derek's hand.
"Holy shit," Derek mumbles against his lips.
Spencer nods, relaxing a moment before declaring, "Your turn."
"Kid, you don't have to - oh, fuck."
Spencer doesn't pull him out of his sweats, but Derek's so embarrassingly close to the edge just from watching his pretty boy come that it takes less than thirty seconds until he's swearing and pressing his forehead to Spencer's as he comes all over the other man's nimble fingers.
They can't stop kissing afterward, even as Morgan steps out of his ruined sweats and Reid shrugs his pajama shirt to the floor. He has no concept of what time it is and he finds that he doesn't care.
A little while later, Morgan says, "I swear that's not what I had planned when I asked if I could kiss you."
Reid laughs and gestures to his come-covered stomach. "I don't know if it's obvious, but I didn't exactly mind." He's looking in between them now, at Derek's softening cock still in his hand. "Geez, you're big."
"Better believe it, baby," Morgan purrs.
"God, you are the absolute worst," Reid laughs as Morgan dances away from the playful slap aimed at his chest.
They clean up in the bathroom together; they don't really talk, but the silence isn't awkward, it's amicable and still a little bit charged with tension. Morgan finishes up first, so he heads out into the bedroom to pull on a fresh pair of boxers then flops onto the bed.
When Reid comes out of the bathroom wearing only the thin blue pajama bottoms, he looks pink-cheeked and embarrassed, like the minute he spent alone in the bathroom was enough time to second-guess what just happened. Derek's having none of it.
"C'mere, kid," he urges, stretching out on the bed and patting the space next to him.
"You just jerked me off and you still insist on calling me kid?" Spencer asks, even as he complies and snuggles up next to Derek.
Derek clears his throat and tries again. "Well then, come here, Doctor Spencer Reid."
"Nooo, that makes you sound like Hotch," Reid whines, making both of them laugh and then shudder as Morgan pulls the covers up over them. "You could've just said, um, pretty boy. I don't mind that."
"You don't?" Morgan asks with a grin.
Spencer shakes his head. “I kind of like it, actually.”
Derek pulls him closer and kisses him deeply one last time before reaching over to turn out the light.
“Is this going to be weird now? I don’t want it to get uncomfortable,” Reid says hesitantly after a minute or two of silence.
“How about we talk about it in the morning, okay?” Derek asks, turning them both onto their sides so he can spoon the younger man. “We’re only gonna get, like, three hours of sleep as it is.”
Spencer makes a small noise that Derek’s unable to interpret and says, “Okay.”
Derek’s always been extremely good at compartmentalizing things, so he falls asleep relatively quickly, knowing that whatever’s going to happen will still be there to happen in the morning.
xxx
Three hours later, Derek wakes up flat on his back with Spencer sprawled across his chest, his hair so tangled a bird could nest in it, his pale arms contrasting with the dark chest he’s sleeping on. He’s nuzzled up so that the top of his head is butted against Derek’s chin, and when Morgan shifts to try to get a look at Reid’s face, Reid makes an unhappy sound and snuggles closer in his sleep.
Oh, god.
Derek might be good at compartmentalizing things, but even he can’t ignore how extremely, thoroughly fucked he is.