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It had gotten dark by the time they’d all gotten out of the hospital, and Reid had sent the medics away, telling them he held his gut out of guilt from killing a man. He had smiled despite the bruise on his face and jokingly threatened them, saying he’d vomit on them if they didn’t move soon. With no one in sight, he’d allow himself to cringe at the pain caused by breathing, but smiling if anyone should pass.
Eventually, most the cars had gone away, leaving the parking lot dark enough to see the stars. Reid would study them, reciting astrological facts to himself and looking at star signs, mumbling their proper names under his breath. Footsteps to his left broke his inner monologue, but he recognised them quickly; the specific sound of familiar shoes, weight and speed, and so he didn’t take his eyes off the night sky. Spencer dully noted that his colleagues next birthday would fall on a Thursday, and that that year the astrological signs would place him as Taurus. He liked that; he thought the personality traits for a Taurus fit his colleague better than those of an Aries.
He didn’t speak right away, as if his colleague was looking at him, noticing the shallow breaths and subtle signs of pain in his eyes. When his dark - and admittedly terribly comfortable - voice cut through the silence, it wasn’t without his usual go-to nickname for the kid.
“How are you feeling, pretty boy?”
Spencer smiled softly then, both at the name and having it proven he was right about who was approaching him. It was a small victory, but after the days’ events, it felt good to know he could still tell his best friend apart from a psychotic sniper.
He mused a little at that thought; he liked the thought of trusting, knowing, and liking someone enough to absentmindedly refer to them as his best friend. It made his smile grow as he looked at Morgan, but it fell quickly at the pain it caused.
“Feeling not so pretty,” he reported, pointing to the bruise on his cheek he’d gotten from being face-palmed by a rifle. It gained him a slightly exasperated huff of laughter from his colleague which he appreciated greatly. He would’ve hated it if the entire team would get overly protective over him, especially since he just gained his own gun license.
“You’d still pass as a solid 7 even with it present. Hurt a lot?” Well of course Morgan would still worry a little. Reid could live with that.
“Only when I smile, so forgive me if I come off as malicious.”
“Oh yeah, I can totally picture you as anything more than indignant,” Morgan retorted sarcastically with another huff.
“Watch it, Morgan, I did just kill a man less than three hours ago,” he said. The small laugh didn’t convince either of them that he was even remotely okay about it.
“Hey, you did the right thing, Reid,” Morgan snapped, which he instantly regret. “Sorry. I’m glad you were only lightly harmed. Profiling would’ve been harder without you.” That’s too vague. “It would’ve sucked to lose you.” Point received? A smile - small due to the bruise, he guessed.
“To be honest,” he whispered, making Morgan step closer to hear the rest of the muttered sentence. “Hotch does possess quite impressive muscles in his legs, pretty sure I’ve bruised all twenty-four ribs and, well, everything else.” After a moments consideration he added; “but don’t tell him that, please.”
“Sure.” Morgan furrowed his brows. “Where does it hurt the most?”
“Considering my body could not in any way function without inhaling and exhaling air and the repeated, rhythmic contractions of my heart delivering blood to my brain and the rest of my body, I’d say…” Reid paused briefly to rearrange his arms around his abdomen. “Well, everywhere.”
“That’s quite a bit of area to cover.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he took a step closer. “It’s gonna take me more time than I originally thought to make you feel better.” He took another step closer. “But I suppose I could start with the obvious.”
“The obvious, what-“
Ignoring the younger mans’ question, he leaned over, having to angle his head upwards - just a fraction - and carefully placed a kiss on the bruise on Reids’ cheek.
Reid blushed, vigorously, and Morgan simply stood back and grinned as he composed himself enough to form a coherent sentence.
When he did, it was exactly what Morgan had half-expected, but mostly hoped to hear.
“Well, I guess,” he said through a smile he couldn’t quite control. “That does serve some purpose.” He had to look down and kick the ground a little before continuing. “But I’m going to need more than that elementary school nonsense you call a kiss.” He dared a look up and stopped biting his lip to hopefully avoid looking like a kid asking for extra candy on a Saturday night.
Morgan laughed heartily, eyes gleaming with happiness and a hint of pride. Reid noted in the back of his mind that the moonlight played off nicely in his partners’ eyes. Then as an afterthought also added that he’d have to find out of the word partner now worked as both definitions, or if Morgan just looked for this to be a one time thing. He sorely hoped not.
“At least let me take you home first, kid.”
“Mommy always told me not to go home with people without her being acquainted with their parents first,” he explained, ironically, as it was a total lie. He didn’t have enough friends as a kid for it to be a problem.
“Oh now you’re just being rude,” Morgan laughed, running his hand up Reids’ right arm. “But maybe I can convince you; I’ve got candy?”
“Creepy,” he stated, but still giggled. “But if it’s sweet…”
Morgans’ grin widened, hand stopping to rest at the nape of Reids’ neck. “Taste for yourself, pretty boy,” and with that he leaned back in and placed a less careful kiss on his lips which he’d longed to do since the moment the young boy walked into the workplace – although now with more reasons than him just being oh-so-pretty! He got through almost all of that before Reid kissed him again to keep him from saying what he thought of him as a kid barely out of his teens.
“That’s not necessary! I’m convinced enough. Wanna get me back to the hotel? I’ll text JJ and have her put the plane on hold till the morning.” They’d understand he’d need some time to ‘recover.’
“Sounds good,” he replied, dropping his hand down to intertwine his fingers with Reids’. Thanks to the automatic gearbox in the car, Morgan could mostly spare his right hand for the other to cover with kisses, memorising the surface, texture, smell… It wasn’t a long drive to the hotel; it was central, practically placed, public, which meant the threat of media lechers was present. So they entered the building with their hands to themselves, then their shared two-man bedroom in silence, attempting to look as casual and not like they were going to ensue in make outs as soon as their door was closed.
Though, guessing what was happening in their room would’ve been a simple task for anyone passing by in the early night, but that was the last thing on Reids’ mind.