Author: Indigo-Night-Wisp PM
A story of friendship, loyalty, unsolicited adoption, Kevlar, and ponytails.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Friendship - S. Reid & D. Morgan - Words: 4,331 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 42 - Follows: 3 - Published: 11-06-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7528741
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Dear Santa, I know Halloween was only like, a week ago, but I just wanted to make sure you get this in time. I'd really like the rights to Criminal Minds, or, if you can't swing that, just the characters themselves please. Love, Zany.
A/N: I love this show. And I love Reid. Most CM stuff will probably have him in it fairly centrally. And Morgan, 'cause honestly, who doesn't love Morgan?
So, my first Criminal Minds. I feel like I've really branched out. Like, three new fandoms in as many weeks. Yeesh.
The streets of Chicago were a less-than-ideal place to be chasing down an UnSub. Even more so when the guy had a partner. And it was even worse when his family was involved.
Derek Morgan wasn't exactly having a good day.
"Reid!" he snapped into his comm. His partner answered immediately. "Morgan."
"I'm gonna check out the back. You stay and cover the front, okay?"
"Copy that," Reid's voice came through loud and clear and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. At least part of his family was safe.
Dr. Spencer Reid breathed in deeply and carefully checked his firearm for the sixth time. In theory, he knew that checking and rechecking things like that was not going to help, seeing as how he'd gotten it all right the first time, but it made him feel better about the situation and right now, he needed that.
The Morgan women were missing.
Well, technically not missing, Reid's overly analytical brain corrected him. We know where they are. Sort of.
Shut up, Reid told himself irritably. He shifted in place, making sure he had the front of the guardhouse where the two UnSubs were supposedly holed up in his line of sight at all times. Fran, Sarah, and Desiree Morgan were in there too, or so was the assumption. Reid was actually a little surprised that Morgan hadn't already stormed the castle, as it were. He shook his head at himself though; Morgan was a better agent than that. His mother and sisters being taken wouldn't change who he was.
It just made it harder.
Fran Morgan had opened her door at eight o' clock in the evening on Saturday to find a gun pressed into her face. Security cameras didn't catch the UnSub's face, as he carefully turned away from the probing eyes. He maneuvered Fran into her kitchen where the wide-eyed girls were eating and within minutes had them all in Sarah's car and headed into the night.
The BAU had gotten the call exactly twelve hours later.
Now, on Sunday afternoon, the sun not so much hot as simply warm now, their leads had led them to this dock. They called in, requesting back-up ASAP, but Morgan was getting antsy, and just checking things out couldn't hurt. They split, Morgan around back, Reid keeping watch in the front. Everywhere they looked they saw warehouses, abandoned, in use, didn't matter, they all meant the same thing: cover. And places to hide.
Stupid smart UnSubs.
Reid nearly yelped as his comm crackled to life, but he managed to pull himself together to open the two-way and crisply reply. "Reid here."
"Yeah, it's me," Morgan's voice came over the wire. "Listen, I've got one of these guys passed out here. I think he's drunk or something. I cuffed him, but I haven't seen the partner yet."
"Morgan, your mom-"
"Yeah, I know, but man, the other guy isn't in there, and I gotta go find him before he comes back. I need you to get the girls safe."
"Morgan, you should wait for back-up."
His friend was silent for a minute, and when he finally spoke, Reid wondered how anyone's voice could be hardened and cracking at the same time. "I know. But, Reid… I gotta, okay? I just…"
"Gotta," Reid finished softly, understanding. He heard Morgan's sigh of relief, his quiet "Thanks, Pretty Boy," and the click of his gun as he readied himself to go hunting. "Just get 'em safe, 'kay? I'll do the man's work."
Reid rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He signed off and looked around, finally lowering his weapon. One UnSub tied up in back, one still unaccounted for, but definitely not on the grounds or in the building he was about to enter or Morgan would be kicking in the door. Satisfied, Spencer Reid hurried toward the clapboard house.
A muffled cry had him turning down a hallway and reaching for the doorknob of the room at the end. He opened it slowly and carefully, calling out as he did. "Mrs. Morgan? FBI. Everything's alright, there won't be any trouble from the men who took you."
A gasp, and then Reid was in, face to face with three beautiful, tear-stained faces. He managed a small smile. "Hello, ladies. I'm not sure if you remember me-"
"Of course we do!" Desiree burst out, a smile suddenly lighting her face. "You're Dr. Reid. Derek's genius friend."
Awkwardly, he laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, that's me." Stepping forward softly, he leaned down and held out a hand to Fran Morgan. "Hey, Mrs. Morgan. May I help you?"
She grasped his hand and let him pull her to her feet, tears streaming from her eyes again. "W-where's Derek?" she sniffled. Reid smiled again. "He's out looking for the other partner, Ma'am. We've got one of them cuffed, but the other wasn't here, and he didn't want to take any chances with your safety. I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be fine."
She smiled up at him tearfully. "You've changed, Dr. Reid. Last time we saw you, I was wondering how on earth such a child ever made it into the FBI. And now…"
"Now you're our hero," Desiree finished with a grin.
Reid felt himself blushing and wondered for a second if Morgan had gotten his teasing nature from his mother. "Uh, we… we need to go."
Sarah finally piped in at that. "Yeah, Mom, let's get out of here."
As he hurried them out of the house, Reid watched carefully for any signs that the UnSub still on the loose might be around, but saw none. The dock was clean. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as he walked quickly behind the Morgan women.
Which, of course, was the moment the shooting started.
Reid's instincts prompted the sudden yell that tore out of him as the first bullet pinged into the sidewalk. "Go, go, go!" The women started running, the young agent right behind them, pulling out his firearm and trying to figure out where the shot had come from.
Footsteps started pounding behind him. He began slowing, preparing to make a stand. Desiree slowed with him.
"Go!" he snapped at her, pushing her in the direction her mother and sister were still running. She gave him a wide-eyed look and kept running.
Reid turned, planted his feet, and swept his weapon up in a smooth, sure movement. "FBI! Drop your weapon, now!"
His answer was a shot. He fired and knew he'd missed even before the next bullet came flying in his direction. He squeezed off another two anyway, then started running again.
I hate being shot at, he groused quietly to himself. The Morgans came into view the next second and he yelled to Desiree, "Keep running, it's just me!"
Another shot fired and they all ran just the tiniest bit faster.
Desiree looked over her shoulder at him and let out a scream. Before he could tell her to shut up and keep going, another shot sounded.
And then Reid felt something hit his shoulder, the one part of his central body mass not covered by Kevlar, and explode in agony. He went down. Hard.
And was up the next second, hands pushing at Desiree, who had stopped to look back at him in horror. "Go!" Terrified, she began running again. Reid felt his lungs seize a little and his head swam.
"Get into a storage unit!" he yelled to Sarah, who was leading. She immediately swerved to the left and began wrenching open one of the heavy metal doors. Fran moved to help her. Des ran to catch up, the injured FBI agent bringing up the rear and trying not to pass out.
Sarah got the door open, and then they were all piling inside, one after the other, and then Reid was slamming the door shut and they were finally, finally safe.
Or, mostly at least. The UnSub could easily follow them, but considering that Morgan was out there and had most likely heard the shots, and back-up would be arriving any minute, he'd probably be keeping busy for awhile. Not to mention all the warehouses and storage units all looked the same. The very thing he'd been griping about earlier was now going to help them tremendously and Reid offered the walls around him a silent apology.
And then stifled a sharp cry as his shoulder protested the rotation of his neck and head.
To his surprise-only not really, 'cause come on, they were Morgans-he immediately found himself surrounded by concerned females. For any other guy, it'd have been heaven. For Reid, it was extremely embarrassing.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Morgan," he tried to insist as he was ushered to a bench in the middle of the room.
She fixed him with a look only a mom could produce and gently shoved him onto the bench. "Now, you listen here, young man. You may be a doctor, but I know it isn't MD that comes after your name, and Sarah here has been an RN for almost seven years now. That gunshot wound needs to be looked at, and since we're safe here, I don't want to hear another word out of you unless it's 'yes, ma'am.' Got it?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said meekly, half-heartedly cursing Morgan for giving him the man's job.
"Good," Sarah said briskly. Just then, he realized that she'd been fiddling with the straps to his vest, and now was attempting to slide it over his head. Missing details, Reid, not good, he thought distractedly, mind fuzzy. His shoulder was starting to go numb. That wasn't good either, he knew, 'cause it meant shock, and he blurrily shook his head to clear it. Something wet trickled into his eye and he frowned, reaching up to wipe it away.
Fran beat him to it. "Leave it alone, Dr. Reid. We'll take care of it."
He looked up at her, managing to raise an eyebrow. "Got shot in the shoulder, not the head."
She smiled softly. "You must've hit your head when you fell, then, because you're bleeding."
He grimaced. "Terrific." But at least that explained the fuzziness and meant he wasn't going into shock just yet.
And then Sarah started tugging at the buttons on his shirt. "Hey, uh, wait a second!" He sputtered, face turning red.
"I need to see your shoulder," she said matter-of-factly. "So you need to take the shirt off."
"But…" he protested weakly. Fran gave him a look and he closed his mouth with a sigh. Sarah swallowed a smile and reached for his neck again. He drew back with a scowl. "I'll do it."
Amused, she waited for him to finish struggling out of the shirt and then bent over the wound.
About fifteen minutes later, Desiree Morgan was convinced of three things. First, this wasn't the first time Dr. Reid had been shot at. Second, from the sounds the young agent was trying to stifle, having a bullet wound cleaned out and bandaged hurt. And third, an FBI training program and regime was God's gift to women. For such a skinny looking guy, Spencer Reid had tone.
Oh, and fourth, even though she kind of already knew this, having had Derek Morgan as a brother, FBI agents did stoic like nobody's business.
Reid bit back another cry, his discomfort escaping as a hiss, as Sarah finished wrapping the remnants of his shirt around his shoulder and tying it off. He wasn't sure yet whether it was good or bad that the bullet had gone straight through. He could still move the arm, which was good, but there was probably something torn in there, and it wouldn't stop bleeding.
Sarah smiled at him sympathetically as he groaned, and patted his shoulder lightly. "That's as good as I can get it right now. When do you think we'll get out of here?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Back-up should have been on its way, but Morgan was assuming that I was getting you girls out of danger. They'll be after the UnSub, not us."
"Yeah." He forced a smile. "Hey, but at least we're safe here. And if they're keeping him busy, he can't be coming after us either, so points for that."
"Cell phones don't have service," Fran pointed out. Reid groaned again, silently. Great.
Something stung above his eye and he drew back sharply. "Ow!"
Sarah gave him a stern glance. "Look, Dr. Reid, you may be an FBI agent and all that, and Lord knows we know what you guys act like when you're hurt, but you've got breathing room here, and there's no reason not to get cleaned up. There's a cut over your eye."
"'Snot bad," he muttered. "Head wounds bleed a lot."
"They also get infected," she retorted, brandishing his own tie at him. Reid sighed and threw up his hands, regretting it instantly when his shoulder twinged. Sarah moved forward again.
Three minutes later she was scowling at his long hair and seemingly contemplating how mad he'd be if she tried to cut it. Surely there were scissors somewhere around this place.
"Dr. Reid, are you even allowed to have hair this long in the FBI?"
An hour or so in their easygoing company had loosened Reid up considerably. Being stripped of his shirt for his own good probably had something to do with it as well, but he was trying not to think about it. Instead, he snarked back an answer to Sarah. "They let me get away with it, 'cause I'm smart."
"Uh-huh. Well, it's kinda getting in the way of me patching up the bleeding slit in your forehead."
He glared at her. "You're not cutting my hair. At least let me keep some dignity today."
Desiree perked up behind Sarah. "Oh! I know!" She hurried forward and stepped behind Reid.
"What are you-ow!" Her fingers were tangling in his nearly-chin length hair, pulling, twisting, holding, and then… gathering. She wasn't…
"Ta-da!" Desiree sang as she snapped a hairband around the ponytail she'd drawn his hair up into.
Sarah and Fran tried not to smile at Dr. Reid's look of horror, but Desiree was so ridiculously pleased with herself and it was a good idea. The long bangs were now top-knoted with the rest of the brown locks in a cheerleader's tail, and the young doctor's forehead was clear to be worked on.
Sarah smiled at her sister. "That was a good idea, Dezzy." The girl grinned. Dr. Reid scowled.
His cut cleaned, bandaged with his tie, and no longer stinging quite so badly, Reid wanted nothing more at this point than for Morgan to show up and take his own sisters off of Reid's hands. Honestly, he didn't know how the older man put up with all of this… fussing.
"Does your head hurt?" Desiree asked, eyes wide and sympathetic, and just the teensiest bit amused at the ponytail he was still wearing.
"No," he answered wearily, for the third time.
"How about your shoulder?" she persisted. He mustered up a smile, an attempt to not glare at her, and shook his head. "I'm fine."
She scooted closer to him on the bench and smiled at him.
Over by a pile of boxes, Fran and Sarah were sitting and quietly discussing their young hero.
"Derek really likes him. Says Dr. Reid acts like what he thought a younger brother would sometimes."
"Whiny and annoying?"
"I got the impression that he meant smart-alecky and know-it-all."
"Well, yeah, genius, Mom."
"I know, dear, I'm just saying. Spencer doesn't have much family."
"He has a mom. And it's 'Spencer' now?"
"Sarah, his mother lives in Nevada, and he doesn't even get to talk to her very often. Derek says he writes her letters, but he doesn't call much."
"Derek doesn't call us that often."
"He calls often enough, and he visits when he can."
"What are you saying, Mom? You wanna adopt our FBI agent?"
"Oh, so he's our FBI agent now?"
"…Fine." She sighed. "I always wondered what a little brother would be like."
Fran beamed at her oldest daughter. "I'm sure Desiree will be thrilled."
Sarah grinned. "Just so long as she realizes that she can't take him home with us."
Reid counted to six hundred silently. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for Morgan. As his best friend, as his partner, Morgan had gotten him out of more than a few tight places and done plenty of favors for him. He kind of owed the guy.
Not this much though.
In the past… oh, great it had been two hours since they dove into the warehouse, the Morgan women had apparently decided to welcome him to their fold. This included sharing family stories, learning way more about Derek Morgan's childhood bath experiences than he'd ever wanted to, and being hugged by Desiree and Fran. Repeatedly.
Spencer Reid had been adopted. It was weird. Sure, being accepted into the family was nice and all, and as Morgan's friend, under normal circumstances, Reid would have been delighted to get to know his friend's family better.
These were not normal circumstances, however, and Reid was not only in pain, he was the only guy in a roomful of women and he wasn't wearing a shirt.
Spencer Reid wasn't exactly having a good day.
"Morgan, where the heck are you?" he grumbled under his breath.
As if on cue, the door started shaking. The sound of fists pounding on metal cut into the peaceful air. The Morgan's fearful faces turned his way, and Reid slumped to his feet, pulling his weapon and, with a grimace and a hiss to mark the pain in his shoulder, raising it towards the door.
The sound changed, becoming a creaking, rattling noise that announced the door's opening. Reid swallowed, and released the safety on his gun. Someone entered the storage unit.
And then Derek Morgan's voice cut through the gloom and the sound of Reid's heartbeat thumping in his ears. "Reid?"
Sagging in relief, he gasped, "Thank God," and lowered his weapon. Stumbling back toward the bench so he could sit down and-hopefully-not pass out from the pain in his shoulder, he ignored the chaos that was the Morgan family reunion. Seriously, where was the strong, intelligent, capable girl who had manhandled his hair into a ponytail an hour ago? Anyone would think Desiree had been the one shot. Fran and Sarah kept it together, though they did cling a little to Morgan. His friend was hugging and kissing his family, and everyone was okay, and Desiree and Sarah were saying something about him, oh, yeah, about being shot. Yeah, that sucked. Reid shut his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.
Derek Morgan had seen some strange things in his life. He'd seen kidnappings of all kinds. A lot of them, the victims didn't get back alive. And then some of them…
"You know, Mama," he said conversationally, looking down at his friend, Dr. Spencer Reid. "I've heard of Stockholm Syndrome, where the victim starts sympathizing with the kidnapper. But I've never heard of… this." Discovery that someone had shot one of his family members had seriously upset him, but upon finding out that it was a minor wound, if very painful, he was able to look on the incident with the amusement it deserved.
"It's not like we were holding him hostage, Derek," Desiree pointed out, apparently over her hysteria in time to introduce him to the newest member of the family.
Who was not wearing a shirt, but was sporting a ponytail. Morgan grinned.
Crouching down beside the bench, the FBI agent reached out and gently poked Reid's leg. "Hey."
Clear, though pain-filled brown eyes met his. "Morgan?"
He smiled, relieved that at least the kid was conscious. "Hey, Pretty Boy. See you got yourself shot."
Reid managed to shoot him a glare. "Morgan."
He sobered. "What?"
Reid's eyes closed. "I am never babysitting your family again."
Morgan's face split into a wide grin. "Dude, my family? I don't think you'll get out of it that easy. They've adopted you."
Reid groaned. "I know. Can't you do anything about that?"
"Why would I want to do something about it?"
Reid cracked an eye. "Uh, because they're your family?"
Morgan shrugged. "I'll share."
His friend tried to come up with something appropriately witty, but instead could only bite out another hiss of pain. Morgan quickly switched tactics, radioing in that he'd found them, and reaching gently for Reid's wrist to check his pulse. It was rapid, and his skin was cool. The kid was finally going into shock.
Hoisting him up quickly, with an arm wrapped around his back to keep him upright, and his mother and sisters fluttering around them, Morgan began walking Reid to the door. He started a commentary as they walked, trying to keep Reid from blacking out.
"Dude, so I come in and you're shirtless? What is up with that? You weren't hittin' on my baby sister were you? 'Cause I gotta tell you, kid, the whole "injured in the line of duty" thing works pretty good… just not with my sisters, 'kay?"
"So… above… the line… of duty," Reid panted out. Morgan grinned again. "And man, what's with the ponytail?"
"I did that!" Desiree chimed in. The women all began talking about the kidnapping, the guardhouse, their rescue by Dr. Reid, the shooting, "our FBI agents" (spoken of in fondly proud tones), and eventually, about the care and ponytailing of one Spencer Reid.
Morgan listened to all of it, grinning and frowning in turn. Reid tuned it out. He already knew most of it anyway. But there was just one thing he wanted to make clear…
"I am an only child," he stated abruptly and firmly. They all stopped and looked at him. Reid stared back, his face completely serious.
And then Morgan cracked a lazy grin at him. "'Course you are, Pretty Boy." The girls all nodded, completely straight-faced. He huffed a little. "Just… yeah. Just wanted that clear."
Morgan pulled him up a little and they started moving again. "Sure, kid. Sure." His voice was amused, but underneath ran a current of what Reid had identified as Morgan's not on your life voice.
Huh. Looked like he had another family then. A crazy, ponytail obsessed, no respect for personal space or dignity family. A little like the BAU, actually.
Trying not to think of what would happen if and when Garcia ever met the Morgan women, Reid closed his eyes again.
Being an FBI agent with the BAU was almost always a full-time job. And now, apparently, he had another one. Brother, friend, son, person-to-call-when-Morgan-won't-answer-his-phone, ear to listen to Desiree when her mother and sister couldn't take it anymore. Huh. Maybe he'd bring his mother up from Nevada and she could meet the Morgans.
He knew he shouldn't start dozing. Sleeping when you're going into shock is a bad idea. But he was just so tired, and Morgan had everything under control now. Maybe he could just…"
"Whoa, there, Ponyboy! I'm not carrying you."
He knew his glare was probably not even pointed in Morgan's direction but he tried anyway, on principle. "Ponyboy?"
He could hear Morgan's grin. "Heck yeah, man. No way I'm letting this one go. The shirtless thing maybe, 'cause you got shot, but the tail? Nuh-uh."
Reid sighed. "You took a picture didn't you?"
"And sent it to Garcia."
"She thinks it's adorable."
"I'm sure she does," he muttered wryly, adjusting his grip on Morgan's shoulder.
Family. What are you gonna do?
A/N: Because Spencer Reid with a ponytail is a sight no fangirl should be deprived of, even if she has to imagine it for herself. And he's shirtless. Y'all are welcome.
I took some liberties with the Morgan women. I hope nobody minds too much.
This one is dedicated to my lovely friend Melodious Nocturne, because she loves Criminal Minds as much as I do.
And also, a shout-out to my dear Captain, who isn't into fanfic, but is into Spencer Reid. What did you think, love? ;)
Until next time, kids.