Author Mentions: I feel so grateful. Thank you. Title and song lyrics inspired by Coldplay's song, Yellow.
Pairing: Spencer Reid/Derek Morgan
Disclaimer: I own a pair of Jonas Brother socks, the Harry Potter book collection, and an acoustic guitar. Sadly, I don't own Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, or Criminal Minds.
look at the stars
The first time he kisses Reid, they're outside of Morgan's apartment, and it's fucking freezing. The group had gone out for drinks after a few days in Florida for a case. The decorative lights were hanging the threats of mistletoe were in place, but no one really got drunk, though Prentiss had gone red in the face and Hotch almost smiled.
(Morgan can't stand the feeling of losing his control, he can't drink anything anymore)
He wasn't sure how they both ended up outside of his apartment, but the particular man is standing with his tie crooked and his hair long and wavy, his eyes wide and amber. Morgan feels his way through a knit sweater, woven together with a precise needle, he feels the milk colored skin under his fingers, and then, softly, he feels Reid's crooked fingers reach in and scoop up his heart. He should stop this, he should stop this right now - he's losing all control.
(Morgan can't help himself, he can't help himself at all)
He reasons that they probably weren't a normal couple. Of course, his childhood was tainted, and his college years he spent suppressing himself and having sex with girls. Unsurprisingly, he pulled off being a straight man very well. The year before he went to work for BAU, he dated a man for a short period of time.
(He couldn't bring himself to be really with him, not when he could see Burford's face)
However, he knew that a couple starts gradually with the physical things, they work they way up to sex.... Sex, Morgan thinks, it's probably the most powerful and intimate thing you could give a person. Reid rarely ever touched him, besides kissing, until one night they have sex. He was scared that he would forever be dirty because of what happened to him and that Reid wouldn't want to be with him. But he sees the adoration, the patience that Reid has, and he thinks, maybe, this might be different.
(And Reid proved him wrong, Reid always could prove him wrong)
And oh my god, the sex is good. More than good, it's amazing. The chemistry the two have is beyond belief, because Morgan's never felt this fantastic about himself. He's never tasted the passion of another body pressed up against him, the soft moans at four in the morning, the creamy skin underneath his lips, always molding, always worshipping.
(Morgan finally felt complete, he finally felt alive)
There a lot of times when Morgan wakes up and Reid isn't there. The first few times, he could smell the empty linens , and the stagnant air of someone not living there. The insecurity had bloomed in his lower stomach and spread through his veins like wildfire. He swallows the encompassing feeling, rubs his eyes and lazily gets out of bed like nothing in the world bothers him.
(But everything, everything in the world bothered him right now)
He struts barefoot in the kitchen, clad in nothing but boxers and almost pisses himself when he sees Reid balanced precariously on the windowsill, he small body resting peacefully, basking in the glow of the morning light. He looks to Morgan, and the older man is surprised that the room seemed to be filled with a warm, lighter scent, crisp, and slightly of cotten. "Good Morning," Reid murmurs, his eyes dark with gold flecks from the early sun.
(He's smelt so beautiful, so truly beautiful)
Sometimes he can't stand the way Reid is. Sometimes, like the on the eve of their first anniversary, the day before they give and get presents and have two days off from the BAU, he almost feels like he could hate Reid. Because where does he get off, trying to understand Morgan? What the fuck does he know what it's like to be so abused by someone you thought you could trust, someone you though you could look up to, to be included and accepted?
(He could barely stand to look at him, shouting himself hoarse)
Then Reid tells him of the time that he was stripped naked and duck tapped to a field goal post at his high school when he was eleven by a popular girl and the quarter back. He was not shouting, and he was not defensive. His voice was cracking, barely over a whisper as he sat in the middle of the bed, his head cradled in his hands.
(The guilt was overbearing, with the sound of his lips so gentle)
look how they shine for you