Title: Touch of the Irish
Author: Sam
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, just sweeping out one bunny of many.
Summary: Morgan must decided if Reid is wearing green.
A/N: Forgive the last line, please? It's late and I have officially entered the Wonk Zone...

***

Looking up from the latest in a long line of makeup paperwork, Morgan
spotted Reid walking into the empty bullpen wearing his usual clash of slightly
mismatched casual work attire. Today their youngest teammate wore the burgundy
shirt with gray vest and cords and blazer in two different shades of brown.
Which didn't mean anything special, really...

Except that it was Saturday, March the 17th and Agent Derek Morgan couldn't
spot a single shade of green on the man. Which meant he was fair game for
the traditional Saint Patrick's Day scolding.

Wearing a smile wide enough to speak of an evil intent of at least some
kind, Morgan slid out from behind his desk, content to lean casually on the
corner of Reid's and allow his prey to come to him. Spencer hadn't even
realized
Morgan was there; the kid's nose stuck in the file he was reading even as he
navigated his way across the large, open room scattered with metal desks.

Just as Morgan was about to reach out and bring his fingers together on
Reid's upper arm, the younger man snorted and asked mildly, his eyes never
leaving the file in his hands, "You sure you want to do that?"

"I think I do," Morgan teased. "No green today, genius. You're fair and
legal game."

Rather than appear resigned, Spencer now wore a peculiar little half-smile;
one that hovered around his lips and made his eyes light up with amusement.
"You sure about that, Morgan?" he challenged. "And remember, if you're
wrong, I get to reciprocate whatever punishment you hand out, only doubled."

A part of him not wanting to miss out on a chance to get his pinch in before
the rest wanted to believe Reid was bluffing; but the profiler in him - and
the part that had played poker with Reid often enough on their flights back
from a case - forced him to stand back and size up his fellow agent as he would
an unsub he suspected might be lying to him.

The smile still twitching around Spencer's lips told Morgan that Reid knew
exactly what he was doing and was interested in seeing what he came up with.
So Morgan bent his head to the problem at hand - was Spencer wearing green
and if so, where was it? Nothing obvious; shirt, pants, jacket...

"Socks?"

"Nope."

Morgan looked up from where Reid's famous mismatched socks were currently
hidden by his shoes and the cuffs of his pants and raised an eyebrow in silent
inquiry. Spencer only snorted and obligingly raised the hem, showing a navy
blue and indigo one on the left, a red and orange on the right.

Morgan huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. "Reid, green eyes don't
count."

"No, they don't. And anyway, my eyes are hazel, not green, so they wouldn't
count anyway." Spencer smiled and challenged, "Give up?"

But as there was one other possibility, Morgan shook his head, opining
firmly, "Underwear."

"Good guess," Spencer said in a bland tone that gave absolutely nothing
away. Damn kid had been spending way too much time with Hotch to have gotten
that tone down that smooth. "Is that your final answer?"

Morgan stared at him in disbelief. "What? You're not going to tell me if
I'm right or not?"

"Hmm. No, I'm not." Reid favored Morgan with that smug look of
satisfaction he sometimes got when he knew something the rest of those mere
humans
didn't. The one that never failed to drive Morgan nuts and make him want to
take
the kid down a peg or two. If only for the kid's own good and Morgan's peace
of mind.

"That's just wrong." Snorting and shaking his head, Morgan pointed his
finger at Spencer, protesting, "Not to mention cheating. How will I know if
you're lying to me, huh, Reid?"

"Easy," Spencer told him. "Pinch me and I'll tell you the truth."

"Yeah and if I'm wrong you get to pinch me twice."

"That's true, " Reid nodded, still playing his cards close to his vest -
gray, not green.

"So what's my incentive then, doc?" Morgan smirked. "I mean, I could
always wait until someone else did it first and see if they were wrong."

Leaning in closer, making sure there was no one about to overhear them, Reid
met Morgan's brown eyes with the hazel of his own. Caught in the knowing
light of those eyes, Morgan could have sworn he heard a purr in the next words
to come from Spencer's mouth.

"Because you don't strike me as the kind of man who would let someone else
beat him to his pot of gold."

With that last declaration and giving one deliberate shake of the tight
little butt all but swallowed by the dark brown cords as he turned, Spencer made
his way across the still empty bullpen and into the break room nestled in the
back. The break room that had the nice, secluded little cubby hole where
they would be completely hidden from prying eyes long enough for Morgan to find
out once and for all if Spencer Reid did indeed have a touch of the Irish on
him.

And maybe, just maybe, when they all went out tonight for a round of green
beer at Morgan's insistence, he and Reid would end up back at Morgan's place
where they would both be lucky enough to get their shamrocks off together.