Title: Lost and Found
Author: wildwordwomyn
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Word Count: 1,462
Rating: PG-13 for adult situations
Author’s Notes: I started writing this before Hotch became team lead again and finished it afterward but I kinda liked figuring how Morgan might've felt while he had the responsibility. What do you think?
Summary: Morgan's lost inside his head and in the world. That is until Reid gathers the courage to find him.

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"Are you..." Reid clears his throat, continues, "Are you seeing her? It's not my business. It just seems like she's holding onto you instead of grieving and with all the statistics out there..."

Morgan looks at the young man standing next to him in the break broom, unsure how to answer, unsure if he even should answer. Finally he says, "I don't know."

It doesn't clear anything up though. Because Morgan really doesn't understand what's going on with Tamara Barnes. The last few cases are wearing on him more than usual and she feels like a distraction. A welcome one. Is he ready to settle down with her? To always be there when she calls? That's what Reid should be asking, he thinks. Yet he can't answer that question either. The truth is everything is so up in the air he's just lost. And not being able to talk about any of it makes matters worse. He's now the team leader for however long, and he's scared he might like it too much to willingly let go of the position once Hotch is allowed to move back up. Garcia won't talk to him about Tamara. And Reid has yet to be cleared for the field yet so he doesn't have a friend available when he does want to talk.

The only time Morgan feels grounded anymore is when he's taking down an Un-Sub...

"She'll hurt you, Derek. She won't mean to. But she will."

Morgan had forgotten Reid was still there. Thinking too much and listening too little. Is he losing control of himself? Losing control of his grasp on the job? Reid's eyes are big pools of mystery. He used to be able to read him easily. Lately, everyone on the team seems to be moving away from him somehow. Especially the good doctor.

"It's not serious, Reid." He's touched that Reid cares but he can handle himself around women.

"I'm not saying that it is. I...I just.....I don't want you to get hurt, Derek. You don't deserve it." It's the second time Reid's used his first name. He can tell it means something. For the life of him he can't figure out what.

"I can handle it," he responds shortly, confusion and lack of sleep edging into frustration.

"Can you?" Reid's words are challenging, yet his tone is tender, concerned. Morgan instantly becomes alert. Something is obviously happening here.

"Did Garcia put you up to this?" Reid shakes his head. "Then why do you suddenly care about my love life?" Slender brown eyebrows furrow when they take in Morgan's automatic defensiveness.

"I-." Abruptly Reid turns and walks away. A not-so-rare occurrence when they've disagreed about something. If only Morgan knew what they'd disagreed about it would make him feel better.

Later that night Morgan is sitting home alone. Clooney is staring at him from his bed in the laundry room, huffing quietly. He has his cell phone in his hand, contemplating calling Tamara. He hasn't yet, though, and he's not sure he really wants to. Somehow, once he hears a familiar voice on the other end of the line, he realizes he doesn't have any control at all anymore.

“Why do you think she'll hurt me?” he asks.

“Has she called you his name yet?” Reid counters. “If she hasn't, she will. She's drawn to you because of her brother, and as long as you continue to see her she'll always think of you as Agent Morgan who worked his homicide.”

“Reid...” Morgan warns.

“You'll never be Derek to her.” Earlier Reid had called him that. Twice. The name rolling so easily off his tongue, as if no matter how often he's Morgan he's still completely comfortable using his given name. And Morgan had liked how it sounded. Tamara only calls him Derek and oddly enough it just isn't the same.

He sighs. “I know.”

For a few minutes neither speaks. Morgan has his stereo on low, some jazz cd playing. Norah Jones from the sound of it. He wants to feel the notes moving inside him but they aren't finding their usual entry point. He closes his eyes, trying to remember what it had been like dancing with her the first time they'd gone out to a club. Instead he remembers the last time he and the team went out. Reid doing that spastic thing with Garcia. He'd called it dancing. It looked more like a seizure. They'd all laughed at him but for once he hadn't cared. Because Morgan had gone out to join them and Reid had smiled, apparently happy he was on the floor with them. Garcia had even maneuvered their threesome so that he and Reid had danced close together for at least 3 of the five songs they'd made their way through. It'd been a while since he'd felt that free...

“Will you, uh, keep...seeing her?” Reid asks after too long a silence.

Morgan's memory stutters to a halt. It hits him then. Why Reid is asking, why he'd called his friend and team member instead of the new lady in his life. He doesn't really want to be with Tamara. What he wants, if he's to be honest with himself, is something else entirely. Back when he'd been a cop he'd helped work a case about a religious nut who believed serpents were the key to God. He'd preach about faith, then have his parishioners stick their hands in a basket full of writhing rattlesnakes. One parishioner had talked about the fear he'd felt before he'd done it, relieved enough to cry afterward when his hand had come out untouched.

"...I..." The living room is darker than it should be since there are no lights on, making it easier for what slips out next. "Not if you don't want me to, Spence."

Suddenly Morgan feels lighter, better able to breathe. Acknowledging what lay between them releases something in him he hadn't wanted to admit held him back. He thinks maybe this is what that parishioner had felt. Fighting not to notice, to see for so long, has taken a toll on him. Buford had twisted his insides up before he'd had a chance to know what he'd felt for men. And afterward he simply pushed any attractions deep beneath the surface. Spencer Reid had awakened that particular beast without his consent and the truth is he's just too tired of pretending any more.

"Do you want me to end it with her? Because if you do I'll call her right now."

"I want you to be happy," Reid responds. The firm way he says it convinces Morgan to believe it. He can't help the urge to hear more, though.

"With you?" he asks hesitantly, testing the waters.

For a long second he wonders if the other man will speak again. He can hear him breathing so he knows he's still there. Did he go too far? Then, "Yes..." It's a whisper. Soft and sweet and afraid and the kid sounds so young Morgan finds himself smiling indulgently automatically. "With me...But if you don't...I mean you probably would never feel the same way about me and according to the Kinsey scale-"

"Hey, Pretty Boy, don't doubt yourself, okay? Forget about the Kinsey scale and percentages. Just do me a favor and ask me out so I can accept."

Morgan's eyes open back up. Definitely Norah Jones. And now, finally, he can hear her voice properly. The image of Reid's thin body in his arms, his hands on his skin, kissing him hard enough to make him speechless sticks in his mind. For once Morgan is not stopping himself from needing another man's touch, another man's love. He's anticipating the feel of a flat chest and narrow hips, of flesh as hard as his own. His mouth waters eagerly as he pictures tasting the root of Reid's desires.

"Just take it easy on her, Derek. It's not her fault for seeing what I see every day and wanting to make it her own."

Morgan doesn't say anything back to that. He can't. Whatever emotions he's feeling sit lodged in his chest, blocking his words.

"...Goodnight. I...I'll see you tomorrow."

Reid hangs up, leaving Morgan still unable to do anything more than set his own phone down and wipe the tears away. With all he's been through the young genius wants him anyway. Thinks he's actually worth something and is actually willing to say so, to ask for more. The hidden shame and guilt Morgan felt all this time and he'd cut right through them with one sincere sentence.

There's no question about it. Morgan is crying. He thinks maybe it's because he's happy. Even better he thinks it won't be the last time. Damn kid...

The End

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