It's your first day at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia and already you've started to hear the rumors about the BAU. For instance, there's Agent Rossi who apparently has enough field experience and credentials to make a new recruit's head spin, but there's a reason most of the fraternization rules didn't exist before he arrived, so if you're attractive and female, you should be on your guard around him.

Agent Morgan wears a wedding ring, but since, as far as anyone knows, he's never been married, there's a good chance it's just there to keep the students from trying anything.

Never piss of their technical analyst, unless you like the idea of never being able to safely go online again.

Agent Reid can't tell you who any of the Three Stooges are, but he's better than an encyclopedia on most topics. Just don't let him try and tell you any of his jokes.

SAC Hotchner will be nice to you, but you should be careful around him all the same. They say he snapped and killed a serial killer with his bare hands. Who knows what could trigger that sort of thing again?

With all this running through your mind, it's no wonder you're a little nervous when one of your teachers corners you and tells you to run a file down to Agent Morgan in the BAU bullpen. With everything you've heard about Agent Morgan-"He's gorgeous." "A big, built, biracial god." "I just want to lick him...don't look at me like that. Once you see him, you'll understand what I mean."-you're fairly confident that you'll recognize him when you see him, and you stop just to the side of the doors to scan the room.

They were right, you realize as you spot the muscled, dark skinned man across the room. He is gorgeous and built. Although you're still not certain about the whole licking thing-that just seems kind of weird. But he's definitely attractive enough to make you stay where you are for a few minutes just to watch him. He's walking and talking with a slender, blonde woman, but something seems a little...off.

They aren't walking in a straight line, but veering toward the left. In fact, when you look closer, you realize that Agent Morgan's entire body is sort of slanted in that direction, like something is pulling him in. They pause and the woman says something, then heads off on her own, while Agent Morgan pivots to the desk on his left and smiles widely down at a slender, long haired man. From what you've heard about him, you would guess that this is Dr. Reid.

You watch Agent Morgan interact with the other man. They aren't actually touching, but there is something there, almost palatable, in the air between them. A closeness in the way they incline their heads toward each other, every little shift bringing them that much nearer to the other. Agent Morgan lifts a hand to about the level of Dr. Reid's cheek, and while it could just as easily be an innocent gesture, something in his expression makes you think that if they had been alone together, it would have turned into a caress. The rumored wedding band is indeed on Agent Morgan's left ring finger, and as Dr. Reid talks, his hands arching gracefully through the air, you catch a glint of what you suspect is a matching silver ring on his own left hand.

You wonder why you haven't heard about this rumor yet.

"Did you need some help with something?"

You start, your cheeks warm with embarrassment from being caught staring, and you glance over at the agent who snuck up on you. He's older but trim, with dark hair and eyes and a stern, but not unkind, face. Even before you look at his id badge, you're fairly certain you know who he is-SAC Aaron Hotchner.

You clear your throat and smile nervously, gesturing vaguely with the folder in your hand. "Agent Young asked me to bring this to Agent Morgan, sir," you say, hoping that your face isn't too red. "He's with Dr. Reid, sir?"

You're not entirely certain what you're asking for a confirmation of, but it's more than just clarification that the two men are who you think they are. From the look SAC Hotchner gives you, he realizes this as well. His eyes are steady and penetrating, pinning you in place, and your breathing gets a little faster when you remember what someone had whispered to you about him earlier. After a long, long moment, he says, slowly and carefully, "Agents Morgan and Reid have worked together for several years now. They've developed a close friendship during that time."

You nod and open your mouth, extremely uncomfortable and hoping to excuse yourself, but he speaks over you, his expression guarded and just short of threatening. "Every so often, a student or an agent will imply that there is something more to their relationship. Such talk is, of course, not only unsubstantiated, but could also be considered slanderous. And that sort of behavior is really not well suited to someone who has ambitions to become an agent. Do you understand?"

And whether he knows it or not, you do. It's the look that does it. Your grandfather, who was married to your grandmother for over sixty years before she passed, still gets that look every time he has a couple of glasses of wine and takes her picture down off the mantle. Your best friend Kate, who knew she was going to marry her husband the day he transferred to your school in the third grade, gets that look every time his name comes up in conversation. Agents Morgan and Reid are giving each other that same look now.

It's light and purity and a love so tender and enduring that most people are lucky if they ever see it, much less experience it. It's the sort of love that makes everything seem a little better just by being near it.

So, yes, you do understand why SAC Hotchner is standing there looking at you, his eyes narrowed like a mother bear who hasn't decided if you're a threat yet. Something like that? It's worth protecting.


There is so much good in the worst of us,

And so much bad in the best of us,

That it hardly becomes any of us

To talk about the rest of us.

~ Edward Wallis Hoch


This entire fic is one big experiment. I've never written a second-person narrative before, so please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.