Miles To Go Before We Sleep, part two, Morgan/Reid
Title: Miles To Go Before We Sleep, Part Two
Authors: innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: PG-13 this part (up to NC-17 for the entire fic)
Summary: After Reid goes off the rails in Texas, Morgan decides Reid needs a friend to support him through whatever he's going through. Several cases and "awesomely" bad sci-fi flicks later, they both realize "friendship" isn't exactly what they want...but sorting through the baggage that stands in the way of a closer relationship is more difficult than either of them expected. Starting immediately after "Elephant's Memory" and running beyond the end of "Lo-fi", this is a multi-chaptered, non-WIP fic.
Word count: this part, ~7000; overall, ~130K
Spoilers: Entire series - specifically Profiler, Profiled, The Big Game/Revelations, Elephant's Memory, In Heat, Tabula Rasa, and Lo-fi. (This chapter takes place before and during In Heat.)
Warnings: Overall: UST, references to past sexual abuse, drug use/references to past drug use
Notes: Written in RP format. Not currently AU, but it will be after season four starts, as we're writing our own ending to Lo-fi. :) A million thanks to mnemosyne_1 for being an awesome beta! :D

Previous Part: Part One

Work had returned to normal after Texas. Well, as normal as work ever was for the BAU. They had just finished a case in Iowa, and though Reid was starting to feel better - something he was starting to attribute not only to the Beltway Clean Cops, but also to Morgan - he was still finding it hard to bite down on certain impulses when they were out on the case, impulses both to be snappish and to look at Morgan a little too often.

Morgan hadn't really said anything more since they had gone to The Auld Dubliner, and Reid filed his paperwork quickly and headed home with just a wave goodbye to the team. It wasn't really until he got home that he felt it. He knew he was more testy than normal at work lately, but he didn't really crave until he was alone. He paced his apartment for a bit, knowing he'd missed the last BCC meeting that was at a reasonable time at night, then finally collapsed on his couch with his battered copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, which didn't really kill much time at all, and he didn't feel like reading it twice in one night.

After a while, he drew a breath and shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket. He hesitated a moment, and then dialed Morgan.

Morgan was sitting in front of the TV with a beer, a Cubs game on with the sound low, when his phone rang. Groaning at the thought of being called back in to work, he muted the sound and checked the ID. He frowned. If this was work-related, JJ would be calling, not Reid. Then again, he and Reid hadn't really talked much since they got back from Iowa. And anyone who knew Morgan knew he'd still be up this late.

He answered the call. "Reid. What's up?"

Reid was quiet for a moment, not sure what to say or where to start, or if he should explain at all. After a pause, he smiled sheepishly, in spite of Morgan not being able to see him. "I bring the movie and you bring the beer, right?"

At this time of night? Morgan's frown deepened, but he sat up. "That's right. Your place or mine?" He grimaced at the way that sounded like a bad pickup line (one that he never even used on the ladies) but just stood and glanced around to see if his place was even presentable. Oh, crap, Reid didn't like dogs. Morgan shot an apologetic glance at Clooney, who was flopped on his side by the cold hearth.

Reid glanced up at the model of the USS Enterprise hanging in the corner of the room, then his eyes darted across the crammed-full shelves and mismatched furniture, and thought maybe he should say Morgan's place. But then he remembered Morgan had a dog. "Um, you choose."

Morgan laughed. "It's up to you. We could find out if Clooney's subject to the Reid Effect." He grinned, but added, "I don't mind coming over there, Reid."

"Ah, ha." Reid glanced around again, and then pushed off the sofa. "All right. I just-- I-- okay."

"Or I can shut Clooney in the laundry room, if you'd rather come over here." Morgan tilted his head, thinking. What was going on with him? Eleven at night wasn't exactly a normal time to call someone for a movie, and even Reid ought to know that. Morgan didn't care about that, but there was obviously something going on.

"Okay," Reid said a little more firmly then wandered over to his shelves and fished out a couple really bad movies, including The Stuff, as well as a couple of movies that were actually good. "I'll be there in a bit."

He hung up, looked at what he was holding, and put everything but The Stuff back on the shelf, then headed out. It wasn't long before he got to Morgan's house, and he knocked, giving Morgan a small wave before glancing behind him for Clooney. "I-- sorry, I know it's late."

Morgan shook his head, standing aside to let him in. "Nah, no biggie, I was just watching the Cubs lose." He smiled. "Your awesomely bad movie can't be as painful as that." He shut the door behind them and headed for the kitchen. "Drink of choice? I've got Old Style, Heineken, Coors..." Hell, he sounded like a liquor store. Morgan gave Reid a self-deprecating grin and shrugged.

"Old Style?" Reid asked. "What, did you smuggle it across state lines?" He stepped inside and didn't hear any barking, so either Clooney was up or he'd be barking soon enough. "Nice place," he said, eying the leather couch and big screen TV, thankful he'd come here instead of letting Morgan come to his apartment.

Morgan coughed. "They sell it in Iowa," he offered, trying not to look sheepish. "What can I say, you can take the boy out of God's Country, but you can't make him stop craving Old Style."

Reid smiled faintly. "I'll have whatever you're having," he said, and glanced at Morgan's entertainment center. "Do you have a VHS player?" he asked, crouching down and popping open the cabinet. "Ah, found it."

Morgan shrugged and brought two bottles of Old Style. He didn't share it with just anybody, but Reid was worthy. Morgan settled on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him, and just watched Reid messing with the video. He wondered if Reid would tell him what had brought this on tonight, or if it would forever be a mystery. Not that Morgan was going to bring it up. He'd let Reid get comfortable and hopefully that would be all it took.

Reid shoved his hair behind his ears and squinted at the VHS player, sliding the tape inside it. "You're lucky this isn't one of the ones I could only find on Betamax," he said conversationally. He turned and crossed the room, settling into the couch near Morgan.

"Yeah, if we watch those, it'll have to be at your place," Morgan said.

Reid eyed the bottle Morgan had brought out for him. "I could drink something else. I know they don't sell it here."

Morgan held the bottle out and laughed. "Ever had this before? If you haven't had Old Style, my man, you haven't had beer."

Reid settled on the couch, slouching a little, and took the bottle. "Never had it," he said as the movie started playing. He was glad Morgan wasn't pressing him to find out why he was here so late. He wasn't unaware how strange this must seem. It felt good being here, though, comfortable. He didn't feel like he was going to crawl out of his skin with Morgan around. "Thanks, Morgan," he said softly.

Morgan smiled. "Don't go telling everyone I gave you my Old Style. No one else gets it." He glanced over at Reid, his gaze warm, to let him know he knew exactly why Reid was really thanking him.

Reid smiled at that, giving the Old Style a try, and glanced back at Morgan. "Not bad," he said, his heart giving a funny little jump in his chest at the expression on Morgan's face. He still wasn't sure what to make of this, but he was convinced Morgan didn't even notice it, which was even more troubling. Reid swallowed and turned back to the TV.

"Not bad," Morgan said, shaking his head. "Man, that's my heritage, and you say 'not bad'." He grinned and settled in to watch the movie.

As the movie played, Reid wasn't entirely sure what Morgan thought of it, but if he had to bet on it, he would wager that Morgan didn't quite see the sheer beauty of the many face meltings and suffocations by... well, stuff. Morgan did laugh a few times, at least, and probably the loudest when Reid couldn't resist talking along when David said, "No one is as dumb as I appear to be."

When the movie finally ended, Reid rolled his head to the side from where he was slumped even further on the sofa to look at Morgan, grinning and waiting for a reaction.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. "Wow." After a moment he looked over at Reid, pleased to find him grinning. "You were right, Reid. Awesomely bad. Man." He laughed again, watching Reid. He looked more relaxed than he had when he showed up here, at least. And the movie had been entertaining, albeit in a different way than you expected a movie to be. "You're probably a fan of Mystery Science Theater, aren't you?" Morgan said.

Reid laughed a little, feeling tired now that it was getting late, but he brightened a little when Morgan finished. "Yes! Of course, I prefer the Joel years to the Mike years, but that's pretty universal. Even Mike agreed that Joel was a better host."

Morgan grinned. "Man, I used to stay up late with my buddies watching that when I was in college," he said. "Joel was definitely better. But Mike was one of the writers, so he wasn't too bad." He wondered if he should offer Reid another beer and the spare bedroom for the night. It was pushing two in the morning.

Reid's eyebrows lifted and his lips pulled into a thin line, though there was still amusement in his eyes. "He should have stayed in the writer's room," he said lightly, and pushed up from the sofa. He didn't really want to go home, but he really shouldn't have come over so late in the first place.

"Bathroom's just down the hall to the right," Morgan said. He got up and went to get the video out of the machine instead of looking at Reid. "Next to the spare bedroom." When he straightened again, he did look at Reid and gave him a crooked grin. "I still have two bottles of Old Style left."

Reid started down the hall and paused to turn around and look at Morgan, darting a glance towards the kitchen when Morgan mentioned another beer. It was tempting, very tempting, and felt safer than going home to his apartment tonight. Of course, his eyes traveled Morgan just once and Reid remembered that safety was relative - he could get fired just as easily for doing something stupid and inappropriate with Morgan as he could for using again. It wouldn't even be with Morgan, it would be to Morgan, Reid reminded himself. Morgan wouldn't be interested, even if he was sending mixed signals. "I didn't bring anything to sleep in, or solution for my contacts." He gave Morgan a little awkward shrug that he hoped conveyed that he wanted to stay but didn't think he should.

"You're telling me you've never slept with your contacts in before? Come on, Reid, have another beer. I don't think you have any better offers, or you wouldn't be here at all." Morgan kept grinning, but he couldn't help thinking that, whatever the reason Reid wanted to be here tonight, he'd be better off not going home at all.

Reid opened his mouth to protest, but no words formed. He closed his mouth and shook his head. "All right, fine."

Morgan nodded. "You want something to eat? I got cold pizza or cold Chinese." He headed for the kitchen. It felt safer to be doing something, to not have his focus on Reid. If he made Reid feel on the spot, he might change his mind, and Morgan didn't want Reid running out on him the first time Reid had been the one to reach out.

Reid watched Morgan disappear into the kitchen and started down the hall. "What kind of cold Chinese?" he asked, slipping into the bathroom and leaning over the counter to look at his eyes in the mirror, waiting for Morgan to answer before he shut the door.

"Spring rolls, lo mein, deep-fried wontons." Morgan opened one of the containers and sniffed to make sure it was still good, even though he'd only had it the night before. "And I even have a pair of chopsticks with your name on them," he teased.

Reid's brows drew together and he turned to give the mostly closed door a flat look before shutting it without answering. He relieved himself and splashed some water in his face, because he was getting tired, and then slipped back out and down the hallway. "I will defeat them one day," he said dramatically and plopped back down on the couch, crossing his legs under him.

Morgan laughed and handed them over. He'd set the takeout containers and paper plates on the coffee table along with the last two of his Old Styles. "It just takes some practice." He loaded his plate and started eating.

Reid took the chopsticks and just sort of shoveled some food onto his plate with them before sitting back and trying to get them in his hand they way they were supposed to be. He knew how, in the sense that he understood how it was supposed to work, but his fingers didn't have quite the same learning curve as his brain. "Nnn," he hummed, focusing more on what he was doing than what Morgan said.

Morgan just watched him, eating absently. Why are you here, Reid? What did you need from me tonight? He knew the younger man was having trouble dealing with things, but Reid wasn't telling him anything, and he didn't know how far to push. Should he say something tonight? Or should he leave the evening as a safe encounter, something to show Reid he could trust Morgan. Not just as a teammate, but with his secrets. Talk to me, Morgan thought, but he didn't say anything.

Reid frowned as he dropped several bites of food in a row. "With over 1.3 billion people in China alone, you think they'd find an easier way to feed themselves."

Morgan grinned. There was something endearing about the great Dr. Spencer Reid having something he couldn't do. "I don't know, maybe we should all start eating like they do. Seems to work for them," he joked.

"I can see why their obesity rate is significantly lower," Reid said, and speared a piece of broccoli on the end of one of his chopsticks so he could eat it. "Or at least it was until American fast food started--" He stopped and shook his head before he stated rattling statistics, then held his hand out to Morgan. "Is this right? This is right, right?"

Morgan laughed. "Except for the part where you used it like a spear," he said. "Here, hang on." He set his food aside and corrected Reid's grip a little. "Like this."

Reid looked at the way Morgan was holding his hand, the top chopstick pinched between his thumb and first two fingers while the bottom chopstick rested between his thumb and forefinger and against his ring finger. He looked at it and tried memorize how it felt, but he wasn't thinking much about that. He glanced at Morgan before pulling away and clearing his throat. Morgan's touch shouldn't feel anymore intimate than it used to, but somehow it did. "Okay," he said, and then attempted to get a piece of chicken to his mouth without dropping it.

Morgan drew in a long breath and rubbed his palm against his jeans, his lips quirking when Reid managed to actually take a bite. "See? Knew you could do it." He wondered if he ought to get a fork, or if Reid was going to be stubborn about this.

"Victory," Reid said, raising his chopsticks in mock celebration, then pushing off the couch to go forage for a fork in Morgan's kitchen. "And now I quit while I'm ahead."

Morgan laughed. "Wise man. Top drawer by the sink." He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He liked that Reid was comfortable enough to go for a fork instead of asking Morgan to get it. Maybe he'd be comfortable enough to talk when he sat back down again. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. Maybe.

Reid nodded, though he knew Morgan couldn't see him, and got a fork from where Morgan had indicated. When he settled back on the couch, he crossed his legs under him again and turned to face Morgan, taking a sip of his beer. He couldn't help but yawn, though he felt less exhausted eating with a fork than fighting with eating utensils no better than skewers.

Was that a hint? Morgan averted his gaze, pretending not to have noticed the yawn. "So. Is there a reason for movie night? Not that I'm complaining, Spencer," he added, looking up to catch his gaze. "But this was kinda out of the blue."

Reid shifted a little, uncomfortable, but he should have expected this - if not tonight, then later - but that didn't stop the frown from forming, like a cloud had settled over his head. He spun his fork, twining lo mein around the tines before taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully and not looking at Morgan. "It was safer than staying home," he said after a long pause, without looking up from his plate.

Morgan shifted, too, turning to face Reid. "Safer?" He leaned forward a little, focused on listening to whatever Reid had to say.

Reid's frown deepened, but he finally stopped staring at his food and looked away at the now blank TV. "Yeah."

"You wanna elaborate on that for me?" There couldn't be an external threat. Reid would have told Hotch if he had some reason to be afraid of another person. So unless the kid had developed an overwhelming fear of cockroaches or mice, the threat was internal. Reid was afraid of himself.

Reid pursed his lips. He wasn't sure why he was so afraid to tell Morgan. He didn't think Morgan was going to betray his trust, and he had quit. He was here, after all, instead of somewhere where he could do something stupid. He glanced at Morgan for a moment, but couldn't hold his gaze. "Do you remember at the coffee shop you said I would always be fine?"

Morgan tilted his head and nodded. "I remember."

Reid shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. "After Hankle," he started, then stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm not always fine."

A wash of cold went through Morgan. Oh, God, Reid, what did that bastard do to you? He watched Reid, his brow furrowed. "How can I help?" he asked quietly.

Reid shook his head again, this time a little faster. "There isn't anything. Just this." He swallowed hard and shifted again to put his half-full plate on the table. "That thing I had. It--" He drew a deep breath. He'd done more dangerous things in his life than admit his problem to someone who cared, but a tiny part of him was still afraid Morgan wouldn't look at him the same way after he said what he was going to say. "It was a NA meeting. The, ah, Beltway Clean Cops," he said finally, fidgeting.

Morgan shifted in his chair again, trying to process that. NA. They'd known Hankle shot Reid full of Dilaudid. The guy's sponsor had said he had reasons to want to escape. Is that what Reid was after? Escape? What was that he'd said in Owen's bedroom--that he just wanted to forget. "Then you're wrong," he said, his voice quiet but confident. "You are gonna be fine." He didn't look away from Reid's face until the other man looked up.

Reid looked up, his mouth drawn into a thin line and his eyes prickling. "Doesn't feel that way sometimes."

Morgan nodded. "Then when it doesn't feel that way, you call me. Just like tonight." He nodded his head toward the TV. "No questions asked, unless you start it." That might be a dangerous promise to make, but Reid wasn't going to call if he thought Morgan would treat him differently or give him the third degree. And hopefully he would, at least sometimes, feel like talking.

Reid nodded. "Frankenhooker next time?" he said, though he couldn't manage a joking tone yet. "Or they probably have MST3K on DVD." He'd liked the sound of what Morgan had said before, watching it with his buddies in college. Reid wished he'd had "buddies" like that.

That brought Morgan's smile back. "Your choice, pretty boy," he said, managing a joking tone better than Reid had. "But if you make me watch movies on Beta, I may make you buy the takeout, too."



*****



The first thing Morgan did when the team got to their hotel in Miami was flip the air on. The second thing he did was strip down to his jeans. He was used to humid Midwest summers, but this heat was ridiculous. He got himself a glass of water from the tap and slouched down on the bed. This was shaping up to be an interesting case. LaMontaigne here, with JJ still trying to pretend nothing was going on...Detective Lopez, who frankly tried just a little too hard to really be interesting...

And Reid. He sighed and gulped his water. What the hell was going on with Reid, anyway? He hadn't mentioned their 'movie night' since it happened. Things had been fine the next morning when he left, and Morgan was fine not bringing it up until Reid did...but Reid hadn't called, either. Morgan had promised him no questions asked. But he couldn't help wondering how things were going. Had Reid not called him because he was doing fine? Or was it because...

"No. Stop right there, Derek," he said aloud. "You can't start doubting him."

Right. Focus on the case. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to make himself think about Charlie Luvet and the other two victims. His mind kept wandering back to Reid.

Reid was laying in bed in his hotel room, flipping the one year medallion John had given him idly over his knuckles and going over the case in his mind. They'd done all they could for the day, and the sweltering heat had most of them retreating to their rooms. Reid was coming up blank on any new angles on this case and after a while his thoughts drifted dangerously to Morgan... and the way that detective had been all over him.

Reid frowned, and after a moment, he pushed off his bed and left his room, padding down the hallway barefoot (it was too hot to put his shoes back on) to Morgan's room. He knocked and waited a moment, and when the door swung open, his mouth went even drier than it had been already. He stared for a moment, trying not to look at Morgan's chest (and failing), and then cleared his throat. "I'm interrupting. I'll come back later."

"Hey, I'm alone in here! You're not interrupting anything but me sweating to death. Come on in." Morgan grinned and stood back from the door. "At least I'll have good company." Something made him glance down and he saw, to his amusement, that Reid was barefoot. Sometimes Reid seemed invincible and intimidating, like when he was working a profile or a deck of cards. Other times--like now--he had an odd, attractive vulnerability about him. "I can offer you barely-cold water."

Reid froze in the doorway a moment and glanced down when Morgan did, wiggling his toes out of nervous energy as they both looked down at them, then cleared his throat. He had immediately thought of Detective Lopez, but now that seemed silly. Morgan wouldn't just sleep with her right off the bat before they'd even gotten started on the case, would he?

Reid shook himself. Morgan wasn't his to be jealous over. Still... "Detective Lopez seems to like you." Reid stepped through the door and wandered inside. "Don't you have a fridge in your room? I think I have ice."

"She's nice enough," Morgan said. "Tries too hard. Bad with names." Something about the way she'd called Reid 'the skinny kid' a few times had rubbed Morgan the wrong way. He could play nice, and he was always up for some harmless flirting, but if Reid was worried that he was distracted from the case, he was off base. "And I didn't check the fridge. Go ahead."

"Remembers Derek," Reid said, crouching in front of the mini-fridge so that he could pull open that tiny freezer at the top corner. His lips quirked slightly. "You have ice too, and the previous guest left you a Popsicle."

"If it's not lime or cherry, I'm not interested," Morgan said. "All right, so you're gonna bust my chops for flirting with our local cop, is that it?" He grinned. "What can I say, it greases the wheels a little." He thought about that for a moment. "And I mean that in a completely nonsexual way."

"Grape. I call it," Reid said, ignoring the rest of what Morgan said. He pulled the Popsicle out, inspecting the paper for tears or openings before collapsing in the chair near Morgan's bed and pulling the wrapper off.

"You're just going to eat that?" Morgan asked, staring at him. "Brave man." He tilted his head a little, then folded his hands behind his head. "You have a problem with Lopez?"

Reid hesitated for a moment. They'd all seen stranger things, but what was the likelihood he'd die of Popsicle poisoning? People left things behind in hotel rooms all the time. He started eating it. "The skinny guy?" he said. He was fairly certain no one thought he had heard that. He wasn't going to treat her any differently though... and if he were honest, it wasn't her forgetting his name that bothered him (he'd been called much worse) so much as watching Morgan and her flirt.

Morgan sighed. He'd hoped Reid hadn't heard that. "Yeah, well, she tries too hard at some things, and not hard enough at remembering Dr. Reid." His lips quirked. "It's not like you're a forgettable person. Especially not with purple lips." He snickered. Sometimes he wondered if Reid believed that, though. He was an appealing guy, both his demeanor and his appearance--even if he could use some help getting dressed in the morning--but he never seemed to realize that.

Reid rolled his eyes, thinking it wasn't always a good thing that he wasn't forgettable.

"Wait--do you like her, is that where you're going with this?" Morgan held back a frown, but he couldn't help thinking Reid deserved someone who could at least remember his name.

Reid's eyes went wide. "What?! No, no! I don't like her! She doesn't even know my name!"

Morgan nodded. "Good," he said, his tone a little absent. "She's not good enough, anyway. Hey, how about some ice over here?" He held up his glass.

Reid stared at Morgan for a moment, both because of the odd tone and because of him saying she wasn't good enough for Reid. He sort of felt like arguing the point about her interest in Morgan a little more, citing J. A. Eaterbrook's studies on memory, the theory that high levels of arousal will lead to attention narrowing, a theory that applied in this case directly to Lopez. Her attention was focused primarily on the arousing details of the stimulus, Morgan, so that information central to the source of the arousal was encoded in her memory while peripheral details were not. Hence the reason she remembered Morgan's name and no one else's. Whether Morgan was interested in her or not, she was certainly interested in him.

Reid swallowed all that and instead got up and pulled the ice out of the fridge and gave some to Morgan. He settled in his seat again. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Tired of it?" Morgan said. "You mean the popular jock routine?" He shrugged and sipped at his water. "It puts people at ease to think they have me figured out. I'm the brawn of the team." He grinned easily.

"Mmm," Reid hummed. "You're more than that." It wasn't something Reid would have said when he first joined the team, back when Morgan reminded him of the jocks that tormented him in school, but Reid knew that wasn't all there was to Morgan anymore. "I meant the girls, the flirting," he said, and shifted, trying not to think about how dangerous this line of questioning could be.

Morgan thought about that for a minute. "Well, sure, I mean, I suppose someday I'd like to have something more settled. But our jobs aren't exactly conducive to that." It was gratifying to know Reid thought he was more than a musclebound cop. Morgan knew he was no slouch, intelligence-wise, but sometimes he felt stupid compared to Reid. "I don't know," he added after a moment. "The flirting is just natural, but I guess I know what you mean. It's been a while since I really put any effort into it." He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt a little embarrassed saying that he hadn't brought anyone home with him in weeks.

Reid nodded, but he couldn't help but think the only way they could ever have a stable relationship with their jobs was with each other. "I'm not sure if I would think it was nice or a curse for it to be that effortless." Reid drew a deep breath and sucked his Popsicle.

Morgan watched him idly for a minute, then realized he was staring and glanced away. He had a feeling Reid thought he was being mean when he called him 'pretty boy', but Reid was pretty, and Morgan couldn't help noticing. "It seemed pretty effortless with...what was her name? Lila," he said, grinning.

"Lila kissed me, not the other way around, and I tried to stop her," Reid said. It had been nice, of course, and it had made Reid feel good that someone like Lila wanted him. But Lila was a little reckless and impulsive and probably only liked Reid because he was protecting her. Transference, as he'd tried to tell her. Reid glanced at Morgan. Lila wasn't what Reid wanted anyway.

"That's what I mean, she kissed you, without any effort on your part." Morgan winked. "What happened there, anyway? Just too busy and too far apart, or what? She seemed to like you."

"Yeah, well, that never happens to me." Reid shrugged. "Almost never. I think some girls think awkward is a challenge." He stuck the Popsicle in his mouth and reached down, rolling his pants up to just below his knees. When he sat back up his mouth was cold enough to hurt, and he hissed as he took the Popsicle out of his mouth. "Ow..." He shrugged, massaging the roof of his mouth with his tongue for a minute, and then sat back and crossed his legs. "Too different. She would have lost interest, and anyway, she isn't what I want, I guess."

Morgan chuckled. "Awkward is attractive," he corrected. "It's like you don't realize how pretty you are. Sure, women like a man with confidence, but there's something about a guy who doesn't know what he's got going for him." He studied Reid for a moment, intrigued. Lila wasn't what Reid wanted? "What do you want, then?"

Reid pursed his lips, frowning in thought. He wasn't always sure pretty was much of a compliment for a man. He looked at Morgan for a minute when he asked what Reid wanted. The exact opposite of Lila? You? He shrugged again. "Someone not so... flighty," he finally settled on saying.

Morgan chuckled again. "Yeah, she was a little irresponsible," he agreed. "Gorgeous, though. In a beach-babe kind of way."

"I guess," Reid said, though he knew Morgan was right. Lila was beautiful.

Morgan shifted a little and took another gulp of water. "This air conditioner seems to be in over its head. Wonder if the pool's still open."

Reid's stomach flipped when Morgan mentioned the pool, a rush of nerves hitting him. He really didn't like the idea of getting into swim trunks in front of Morgan. "Dunno," he said absently.

Morgan thought about the pool for another twenty seconds, then decided he didn't feel like investigating. "I'm beat," he said. "Heat takes it out of you. Want to call for a pizza or something?" He stretched. "Or I suppose I could get dressed and we could go find a diner." He supposed it might be a little odd, the way he just assumed Reid would want to hang out with him...but Reid had showed up here, after all. Lately Morgan found he preferred Reid's company to anyone else in the team, anyway.

As quickly as the nerves had come, they left when Morgan dismissed the pool idea. "I'd have to go get my shoes," Reid said, but he was pushing out of the chair, ready to go, anyway. He dropped the uneaten part of his Popsicle in the trash. "Should we see if the rest of the team wants to come?"

Morgan shrugged, standing. "If you want." He wasn't very enthusiastic about the idea. Though he supposed it might be fun to invite Will LaMontaigne and JJ, just to see how they acted together. He considered the idea, then dismissed it. Neither of them seemed very comfortable, and Morgan didn't want to be cruel. He went over to his bag and pulled out a white t-shirt. He tugged it over his head, then looked around for his shoes.

Reid glanced back at Morgan's tone, but he wandered down the hall to his room without comment, pulling on his socks without looking at them and then his shoes. When he stepped back out, he glanced down at the other rooms he knew his team members were in, then headed back towards Morgan's door without knocking on the others.

Morgan stepped out of the door just as Reid got to it and bumped into him. He made a surprised noise, reaching up automatically to catch Reid by the shoulder. "Sorry," he said, his grip tightening for a second before he let go. "Wasn't watching where I was going." He'd been thinking about Reid, thinking about how he felt so comfortable around Reid these days. Texas had changed things, and he liked the way things were going. He brushed the palm of his hand down his hip, in the guise of making sure he had his room key; he could still feel the warmth of Reid's shoulder on his palm.

Reid reached up and grabbed Morgan's shirt for a second, but Morgan's strong hand steadied Reid before he had to worry about falling. He let go when Morgan did and stepped a more comfortable distance away. "It's fine," he said, and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of Morgan's hand. "Where are we going?"

Morgan shrugged. "We're in South Beach. We ought to take in the local cuisine, right? Larios, maybe? Cuban food, mojitos... What do you think?" He grinned at Reid. "You might lose the tie, though."

Reid reached up and fidgeted with his tie, but left it in place. "I don't think I've had Cuban food. They don't make you eat it with sticks, do they?"

Laughing, Morgan gave the tie a little tug and headed down the hall. "Forks only, I promise. C'mon. I think you'll like it." Really, the kid ought to dress down a little sometimes. Jeans, at least, and no tie.

Reid conceded and tugged his tie off, pulling it over his head and shoving it haphazardly in the back pocket of his pants, most of it hanging out. "All right," he said, smiling, going back over the pamphlets he'd read through at the hotels' brochure rack. "Let's go see what Gloria Estefan has to offer the culinary world."

Morgan snorted as they hit the elevators. "Too bad I don't have the bike. Miami's gotta be a great place for a ride."





By the time they were at the restaurant and had a table, Morgan was sort of regretting his suggestion that they leave the hotel. The restaurant was crowded, but the music was good, and his mojito was great. After they'd ordered, he leaned on the table, watching Reid with an amused expression. "The waitress seemed to think you were cute," he teased.

Reid's brow furrowed as he sipped the fruity drink, and he glanced at their waitress' retreating form. "Really?"

"You didn't notice the way she was smiling at you?" Morgan asked.

"No," Reid replied, though he didn't sound overly enthused at the idea that their fairly attractive waitress was smiling a little too much at him.

Morgan shook his head. "See, you just don't look for your opportunities. Course, the middle of a case isn't really the time to be picking somebody up. Hell, our lifestyle doesn't really lend itself much to relationships. Look at what happened with Hotch." He shrugged.

Reid put his glass down and sighed. He sometimes wasn't sure why Hotch confided in him about his marriage sometimes; it wasn't as though Reid really related very easily to it. Then again, he was close to Hotch, and everyone still seemed to tell him everything, even after his Mother had given away so much to Randall Garner. It felt good that Hotch trusted him. "Yeah," he said softly. It's not that I don't look, I just look in the wrong places.

Morgan looked down at the table, thinking. "You asked if I get tired of it," he said, his voice low. "I guess...I felt like I had something to prove to myself, back after..." Carl, he didn't say. He shrugged, hoping Reid wouldn't make him explain. "It got to be a habit, a way of life, showing I wasn't broken by that." He glanced up at Reid's face, glad he didn't see judgment there. "Yeah, I get tired of it. I just...think I spent so much time proving that part of me wasn't broken, that I forgot to teach myself how to trust people again."

Reid nodded that he understood what Morgan was referring to, but he felt a spasm of surprise that Morgan had even brought it up. As far as Reid knew, Morgan hadn't really talked about what they knew happened to him to anyone after they'd returned from Chicago. It felt important that Morgan was telling him and as a result, everything Reid could think to say felt trite and rhetorical. He held Morgan's gaze for a long moment, then his heart jumped into his throat when he followed his gut instinct to reach across the table and close his fingers over Morgan's hand.

He didn't drop Morgan's gaze, though; he forced himself not to, and he hoped his expression held strength and understanding, not something Morgan could misinterpret as pity or judgment. You can trust me, he thought, and then remembered himself and where they were and drew back, shoving his hair behind his ear and shifting in his seat. His eyes fell to his food and his hand to his lap. "Everyone's broken," he murmured, and shrugged, pushing his food around on his plate. "But not everyone has the courage to make it right for other people in the aftermath of their own trauma." He though of Owen suddenly, but shook the thought away. "And maybe it's a start just knowing we all trust you."

Morgan stared in surprise at Reid's hand on his, shocked not only at the fact that Reid had touched him first, but at just how much that gesture meant to him. He licked his lips, trying to think of anything to say that wouldn't sound stupid--or worse, self-pitying. He flexed his fingers a little and looked back up at Reid's face. I trust you, he thought, but he couldn't quite force the words out.

Reid finally speared a bite of food on his fork and took a bite, all the awkwardness he normally felt returning and then some because he'd just held Morgan's hand. Men like Morgan slapped you on the back, tousled your hair, and told you everything'll be all right, kid, but they didn't hold hands. Reid swallowed his bite, which was very good, and said the first thing he could think to say. "I wonder if there's anything Gloria Estefan ever tried that she failed at."

Morgan's eyebrows went up and he shook his head. If you don't say it now, you're a failure, he told himself. He cleared his throat. He'd told Penelope he loved her, how much harder could this be? Well, a hell of a lot harder, because Garcia was a woman, and she knew what he meant, and... He sucked in a breath. "You know I trust you, Spencer." He could only meet that warm brown gaze for a few seconds, though, before he looked down and started poking his fork into his rice.

Reid's heart squeezed in his chest, and he looked back up, a slow smile blooming on his face at what Morgan said. He smiled at Morgan for a while even after Morgan looked away. He opened his mouth and shut it, almost saying that they had to trust each other, but knowing the sort of trust Morgan had in the team and what Morgan meant now were totally different. "That means a lot to me," he said.

Morgan looked back up, warmed by the expression on Reid's face. He'd known Reid wouldn't laugh in his face--after all, it hadn't been so long ago he was confessing his own weakness to Morgan--but knowing and seeing were two different things. A smile crept back across Morgan's face, and after a moment he nodded. "I'm pretty sure Gloria's an all-around success story," he said, deciding enough had been said there.


Part Three