Title: Mistletoe
Author: wildwordwomyn
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Word Count: 1163
Rating: PG for a few cuss words
Author’s Notes: No spoilers. And, no, I still don't own them or anything having to do with them.
Disclaimers/Warnings: Angst, very mild male/male flirting
Summary: Winter in Chicago is cold enough to make your breath freeze as soon as it leaves your mouth...

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Winter in Chicago is cold enough to make your breath freeze as soon as it leaves your mouth. Not that Morgan hasn't been cold before. He grew up here. He knows cold. It's just a lotta wind. Icy wind. Sleet. Hail. Damn hail. Of course, a little hail he can handle. But a lot? Raining down hard on his head? That's just evil in his opinion. But he's here for Christmas with his family. Morgan wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

On their last case the Un-Sub was an extremely violent man. Into pain. He'd liked to cut, to bite, rip, beat, break. He'd liked to hear the screams, make them beg, before he finally ended their lives. He'd needed to make sure the victims died in a world of hurt, that the last thought on each boy's brains was not about how good their lives might have been before or the last great meal they ate. No, he needed them to remember aches bone deep. The victims were young Black boys, an already touchy situation for Morgan, and the bastard hadn't left many clues. He was smart and confident. But they'd caught him eventually. The case had hit him hard, though. Mentally, emotionally. Made him feel vulnerable. Reid could tell. He'd decided on a whim, wholly unlike him to do, to accompany Morgan back home. Morgan, unsure if they were going as friends or potentially more, hadn't hesitated to agree. He didn't want to go alone. And he wanted to be with Reid, to just be with him.

“Morgan,” Reid calls out. Morgan's in the lobby of their hotel, sitting in front of the fire, wishing he'd be man enough to ask for some spiced apple cider, or spiked as the case may be, from the bar.

“Hey,” he calls back. He's carrying two mugs of something steaming. He hands one to him before sitting down in the over-stuffed recliner across from him. Morgan tries not to laugh as the younger man gets swallowed up by the chair. “Bless you,” he murmurs after taking a sip. That wonderful man is psychic. He's brought him a Cider House Special.

“You looked cold.” He shrugs and smiles. “Besides, there's nothing like a Cider House Special to get your blood pumping or keep the brain from becoming an ice block.”

Morgan is wearing comfortably well-worn black jeans (over long johns but that's a secret), a black turtle neck and a beige fisherman's sweater. Reid is similarly dressed in black khakis and white button-down shirt with a grey sweater covered in white snowflakes. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes are twinkling. Somehow he looks like he actually got some rest. Morgan would be jealous if he wasn't enjoying his drink so much. It's 7 pm and they're about to grab some dinner from the hotel restaurant before getting on the road to his mother's. He sits with him in companionable silence until they finish their drinks.

As they wait he glances around at the Christmas-decorated lobby. “You think they paid someone to do this or just felt festive?”

“Reid! I'm shocked! What kind of person isn't into the Christmas spirit two days before Christmas?” he kids lightly.

“The kind who never haves anyone to spend it with,” he remarks, as if the idea of spending any holiday, especially Christmas, with another is a luxury he has never tried to afford.

“Well, you do now,” Morgan says in a gentle, quiet tone.

Reid's eyes widen as he gapes at him. Having someone important, other than his own mother, in his life is a foreign concept to Reid. Morgan knows this. Even if they weren't close he can see it in the doctor's eyes. He wonders if he's taking on too much by letting someone as damaged as himself in. Then Reid smiles an open, shy smile, as if Morgan is suddenly the sun and moon all at once, and he remembers that he never really had a choice in the matter. From the day they met it was inevitable. He smiles in return, grateful to share in this moment.

“Your mom always tries to fatten me up. She does realize I don't gain weight, doesn't she?” The change of subject is a tactic Morgan's used to by now. He grins.

“No, she doesn't. And my sisters have a crush on you so don't be surprised if they pinch your cheeks or get you under the mistletoe.”

“You know, mistletoe is a poisonous plant that, if ingested, can cause acute gastrointestinal pain and diarrhea as well as a low heart rate.” Reid is nervous. Clearly. Not that he doesn't share unwanted facts often but speaking a whole paragraph? He only talks this much when he's self-conscious. “And it's Scandinavian in origin. They considered it a peaceful plant and for them it brought on a custom that had nothing to do with kissing at all. It was actually started as an automatic agreement or truce between two warring parties who, when found to be near mistletoe, would lay down their arms for the day. So really, kissing is an entirely inaccurate way of looking at what mistletoe is. I mean it just doesn't make any sense if you-.”

“Reid, are you trying to get out of kissing me under the mistletoe?” Morgan asks quietly, staring straight into the nervous young man's eyes. The question does exactly what he intends it to do. It shuts Reid up immediately, and makes him think about the possibility of a kiss they have yet to share.

Morgan drinks slowly at his spiced cider cocktail, watching Reid out of the corner of his eye while he fights not to smile in triumph. Reid's fingers somehow find their way to his mouth, pressing lightly against lips Morgan vows to taste before they return to the BAU. Yeah, he hates the cold, the wind, and honestly, he's not fond of mistletoe himself, but he will make sure to maneuver a certain young man into a situation where a certain plant only brings good tidings.

“...Dinner,” Reid responds finally, his voice an octave higher than normal. “We, uh, we should get s-s-some d-d-dinner.” He stands up swiftly, more gracefully than he's aware of, and heads into the restaurant with his drink. He doesn't look back to see if Morgan's following.

Morgan wonders if this time he's pushed too far. It is possible. He can get intense when he wants something, or someone. But Reid, Reid makes him feel like a teenager all over again. Scared of reaching out, scared of needing. Scared. Period. He either goes full speed ahead like he learned while playing football, and freaking Reid out in the process. Or he goes at a snail's pace, forcing himself to chase after the other man and leaving himself open to losing. And he still hasn't figured out yet which will win Reid in the end, if he'll be able to win him at all.

The End

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