(no subject)
Reid has a lot of books.
Lined up alphabetically on wooden shelves, abandoned on the coffee table in piles of thick pages that must have already been read five or six times. Even under the couch, notices Morgan as he goes nearer.
There’s one book, one corner poking out, like hastily stuffed there in the rush of hiding.
He debates whether or not to pick it up, but he already has his hands clasped around it, so it’s too late to think about things like privacy or the sudden need to know what Reid obviously didn’t want him to know.
It’s grey, anonymous and too light to be one of the unbearable to anyone - beside Reid, that is - essays that the kid likes to go trough on the jet or when he’s done with his and Morgan’s paperwork - the first time he offered, Derek had thought he was either more workaholic that what he previously imagined or way nicer to him than to anyone. But again, he seemed to enjoy doing paperwork, and Morgan certainly enjoyed watching him -
He’s never been one to overanalyze anything, so he flips the book to see the cover. That’s when his jaw simply drops open, eyes going wide and tons of images which he totally should not be thinking about just flows around his mind, involving a way too poorly covered Reid.
Opening the thing may have been an awful idea - he realizes - as he can’t help but read sentences with words he’s been trying not to associate with Reid in the past months
A muffled “’m almost done” coming from the bedroom almost makes him drop the book.
Morgan suddenly remember he’s supposed to wait for the genius to get changed, so he can drag him to the bar as Garcia requested.
He stumbles around the room with the book for a few seconds like it burns his hands, resuming to stuff it under the couch like the genius did, right before Reid emerges from his room.
He looks every bit as awkward and out of character as he must feel right now, gaze wandering around and never meeting Morgan’s, fingers torturing the hem of the shirt, and every bit as sexy as JJ predicted when she presented him the envelop with the light blue shirt which now hugs just the right way wide shoulders and a lithe chest.
“You---uhm---you look good.” The kid relaxes a little, the frown on his face lightening the tiniest fraction, but Morgan is able to detect it without even trying - and he really, really should not.
“Garcia’ll be displeased if we’re late.” As he’s reminded once again why he is standing in the middle of a house he didn’t want to be in in the first place, with the guy he’s trying hard not to want, the older agent heads to the door.
The art of giving blowjobs just lies under the couch.
***
Stupid book. Stupid geniuses’ impulse to read about everything. Stupid over reactive imagination that now just won’t leave him alone. Stupid Reid bending over the table to study a crime scene photo. Really, who on earth needs to bend like that? Wouldn’t anyone just pick up the damn picture?
“Hot stuff, I’m no profiler but it’s rather obvious you’re staring at Reid’s ass right now. I have to admit, that’s quite a nice view.”
“I’m not---staring at anyone’s ass.”
“You are.”
“Am not.”
Morgan remembers never to be drunk around Garcia again. Last time he ended up happily proclaiming over far too many empty glasses that ‘he went both ways’ as the woman elegantly put it the next day.
Garcia was all but shocked at the declaration, going on for weeks about how she was supposed to fight off of him both men and women, but pointing out to him every cute guy who wandered around.
He draws in a deep breath closing his eyes.
“Ok---see you later. Try not to jump him while I’m away, I want pictures of the event!”
It is going to be a long day.
***
“Nice place, isn’t it?”
Someone’s asking something to someone else.
Really, he usually is able to do multitask pretty well.
He is always been fantastic at dancing with one girl while checking everyone - boys or girls - out, or thinking about sleep and decent coffee while questioning a suspect with a hard glare.
It’s just that right now some guy he knows pretty well is sucking at the straw in his drink like there’s no tomorrow, with a naivety that surprise him even more than his own inability to tear his eyes away.
He does though, as soon as an elbow nudges him painfully in the ribs.
“Nice place, but it’d be nicer if you weren’t so damn boring. Really chocostud, can’t you just talk to him?!”
“I talk to him, a lot.”
“Talk about something which doesn’t involve blood or psychopaths . Not exactly the best pick up topics, you know. “
“You trying to school me over flirting baby girl?”
“Oh boy, I’d gladly be your cavy. But not tonight. I’m just trying to get you to do something, otherwise your gorgeous chocolate body’s going to burst from UST.”
“USwhat?”
“Unresolved Sexual Tension.”
“You know you should go out more often, right?” He suddenly realizes he’d been acknowledging his attraction - or whatever this is - to Reid for pretty much the entire conversation.
“And anyways, sexual tension implicates sex, which is something I don’t want to happen between us, and tension, which would be there if both of us were actually interested in one another.”
Lame, so lame Derek’s brain supplies weakly. This ability to reduce him to a stuttering teenage boy Reid doesn’t even know he has is starting to scare him.
“Sure he’s not interested? He’s a genius and knows how many hairs a bigfoot has, but it’s hard to misinterpret how he’s glancing at you.”
Reid’s eyes are actually on him, deep hazel and long lashes making a warm feeling curl inside his stomach. If this wasn’t the guy who googled death instead of going on dates, Morgan would be sure there’s something else going on with the glint shining in the kid’s pupils.
He tries hard to smile instead of staring like a gaping fish, a laid back and relaxed and friendly and absolutely not flirty smile. The flash of white teeth and flushed cheeks in response make his heart pound unpleasantly.
Suddenly they’re looking at each other. Really looking, eyes glued to eyes, straw squeezed between still lips and the beer Morgan was going to drink forgotten halfway between the table and his mouth. This is dangerous, he thinks right before Reid bits his lower lip in a - seductive? Oh god I really have to stop this - way that reduce the older agent to grip his glass so tightly his knuckles turn white. Teeth drag slowly over swollen lip and the music fades away, along with the faces around them and pretty much everything but that mouth.
“Hi, wanna dance with me?” Reid suddenly looks away and starts rambling about something to JJ.
There’s a pretty blonde girl standing too close to him, smiling while her hand lands over his arm.
Morgan can feel sly glances burning the back of his head when he slowly says “Thanks but I’m not in the mood.”
She looks quite disappointed, nodding more to herself than to him before going back to a table of girls dressed almost in the same way, obviously ready to chat about how he’s not worth it, and anyway he seemed a jerk in the first place.
“I can’t believe this. Morgan turning down a pretty chick? What’s next? Reid turning out to be a great dancer?” Everyone laugh at Rossi.
“Actually, I’ll let you know I’m fairly good. I just don’t like to willingly trap myself in a too little vital space, constantly invaded from people pushing from everywhere.” That said, he clasps the straw between this teeth. God, Morgan’s beginning to hate that thing.
Especially because the book right under the coach is still in his mind, making him impossibly uncomfortable every time Reid does something like eating or panting or clasping that damn straw with his lips.
“You don’t care that much when you have someone to dance with.” Prentiss says between one onion ring and the next.
“Yeah, could be.” Those eyes are once again over him, shyly looking away after a second.
“Dance with me.” He hears himself say. Reid almost chokes over his drink, and he can practically feel Garcia beaming beside him. “Uhm---I mean, you should try with someone you know before--- jumping in with the chicks” Morgan mumbles out, but his voice goes up so that it seems more a question than anything else.