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"I know Morgan. I've been in a club before." Reid's reply was curt, cutting off Morgan's briefing as he tugged almost aggressively at the tie around his neck. Pulling it free and dumping it into a locker, he began working at the buttons on his shirt and Morgan turned away. He stripped his own shirt and pants in silence, nothing but the rustling of fabric and zippers filling the room. Suited now in dark jeans and a forest green v-neck shirt, he folded his previous outfit neatly away and closed the locker door. The clang of metal on metal felt eerily loud.

"You can turn around, I'm decent," Reid informed him, breaking the stalemate.

He was glad that Reid was engrossed in lacing his shoes as Morgan got the first look at his new attire. The open mouthed gaping would likely have just continued to piss Reid off, with the frosty mood he was currently sporting. Yet there was no denying that Reid's outfit was unlike anything they'd ever seen him wear before, and that it was undeniably hot.

Both t-shirt and pants were tight. So tight Morgan wasn't even sure how Reid was wearing underwear beneath the black jeans. The shirt was high necked, but short, revealing a inch of skin between it at his pants as he raised his arms. It clung at his wiry biceps and even with the full coverage it offered, the white fabric was practically sheer. Morgan was almost certain that if he flicked his eyes down, he could have traced the outline of Reid's nipples.

Hence he resolutely refused to look anywhere but at Reid's face as he straightened up. The ridiculous crush he'd developed over the past few months didn't need further fuel added to its arsenal. The sting was going to be difficult enough already, better he get a handle on it now, for both their sakes.

Reid had no such qualms about evaluating his outfit. Morgan watched his eyes trail down then back up, once again eye to eye.

"Ready to go?" Morgan asked, as the eye contact lingered a little too long.

"Need to see Prentiss first, she said she had something else. I'll meet you in the SUV."

Reid's clipped reply, along with the haphazard mess of clothes that he shoved deeper into the locker before slamming it closed, had Morgan on edge. The kid had tried to bow out of coming at first. It was Morgan that had insisted on the basis that Reid was the only member of the team who even remotely fit the demographic of the venue. Male, twenty-something and attractive enough to fit right into the gay club scene. Although Morgan had left that final part out of his reasoning. Despite his initial protest, Reid's participation was unfortunately unavoidable.

It was Rossi's idea that Morgan go with him, posing as a partner that could play the part of overprotective boyfriend if they encountered the UnSub directly. The reasoning was sound there too. Hotch and Rossi would stick out like a sore thumb. Morgan had youth and physique on his side there. It also allowed Reid to be in the club with backup attached to his hip without questions.

It was a good plan. If he had to steal his resolve and pretend for a few hours in order to catch a man who'd murdered seven people so far with no sign of stopping, then he could suck it up. Still, Reid's behaviour since the plan had been outlined concerned him.

"Reid-"

"I'm fine Morgan," Reid snapped back before Morgan could utter anything more than his name. The sigh he released was enormous in the aftermath. He turned around, facing Morgan once more.

"Really, I'm fine." The chilly exterior had thawed into a poorly hidden resignation that didn't fill Morgan with any further confidence.

"I'll see you in a few."

Clearly unwilling to discuss anything further, he brushed non existent creases from his shirt before crossing the room to the exit.

Morgan sighed himself as the door swung shut.

Just a few hours, he reassured himself. He feared even a few hours were going to feel like an age.

***

The club was packed. Friday night before the long weekend had drawn people out on mass, making the most of the few extra days to let loose and nurse hangovers. Even the publicity of the killings didn't seem to have served as a deterrent.

Morgan perched on a stool at the bar, a hand wrapped around the neck of a beer he was mostly pretending to drink. Reid's drink had been far easier to disguise as alcoholic, the sugary coke visually indistinguishable with or without the usual rum addition. He glanced over just in time to see Reid's lips fold around the plastic straw and take a sip. The pulsating lights of the club caught on the subtle sheen of gloss that Emily and JJ had insisted on as part of his ensemble.

That, along with the dark ring they'd added to Reid's eyes, had had him choking on the sip of water he'd just taken as Reid climbed into the backseat of the car beside him. Even in the dim lighting of the SUV, Reid's eyes popped, the eyeliner accentuating well against the natural slight purple of his eyelids, left from his constant state of sleep deprivations. Those eyes had widened in concern as Morgan spluttered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as Morgan drew in some deep breaths.

"Went down the wrong way is all," he explained in a raspy voice.

In an effort to divert attention away from his mishap, Morgan offered him a water of his own, but Reid shook his head.

"Straws only apparently," he sighed, pointing at his lips. Morgan had missed the slight dewey effect till then, and was very glad he'd not taken another swig. "Also, I really don't want to have to deal with these pants in a club bathroom if I can help it."

The offhand statement had Morgan praying for strength as the internal light had faded and the car pulled away.

Watching those lips now wrapped around a straw was playing havoc on his self control. He immediately dragged his eyes away, back to scanning the room as casually as possible. Their profile offered little in terms of physical appearance of the UnSub. Male, late twenties to early thirties, white and physically fit. Other than the slight skew on the age, over two thirds of the patronage easily fit. They'd have to rely on behaviour to give him away. Morgan's eyes instead were on the hunt for potential victims.

"Anything?" Hotch's voice asked in his ear. Derek shook his head, knowing the cameras would pick up his response.

"Garcia says there's a couple, corner of the dance floor, closest to the door that have been arguing for some time now."

Derek nodded as he caught sight of them. Pulling out his phone, he typed into a blank message 'far corner near door' and showed it to Reid. Reid acknowledged by leaning back into Morgan's arm that was laid across the bar at his back.

It was a clunky form of communication. Morgan would have much preferred Reid to also have a com, but the tech provided to fit it at the precinct had taken one look at Reid's outfit and grimaced.

"You're right," Reid had cut in, having had the same thought as the tech before any of them had caught on. "There's no where to hide the receiver."

Each bump in the road had him feeling more and more uneasy about the operation. He was just glad to know the rest of the team had tabs on everything through the clubs CCTV.

Morgan kept his eyes fixed on the couple and those around them. It felt like a much safer place to focus his gaze to keep it from wondering towards Reid. It wasn't until the pressure against his arm eased up and he heard Reid yell something towards him, the content snatched away by the ratcheting bass line, did he drag his eyes away.

Reid had already slid from the stool, his now empty glass sat atop the bar. At Morgan's questioning look, he pointed towards the far end of the bar where a neon orange tube had been contorted to read 'Restrooms'. He nodded back an acknowledgement before returning to the arguing couple. Watching Reid walk away in those pants would be counter productive to keeping his whits about him.

The music slid from one track to the next. The song evidently contained some meaning for the couple in the corner, as within two or three beats of the opening bars, their argument evaporated. Laughing and flirting as though there'd never been a problem, the taller of the two pulled the other deeper into the dance floor and out of Morgan's line of sight.

"We'll keep an eye on them, but they're unlikely to be targets now," Hotch said in his ear, before asking, "where's Reid?"

Where was Reid? He'd been absent for quite some time now, far longer than expected from a bathroom trip. The comment Reid'd made in the SUV came back to him. There was no way that singular drink had him needing the bathroom that badly, especially after the complaint about his pants. He pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Hotch.

Bathroom. Going to check.

Leaving his barely touched beer on the bar, he slid to his feet, tucking his phone back into his pocket.  Weaving his way through the crowd, he made a beeline for the archway in the corner marked restrooms. The corridor lighting was low, the doors set back, leaving deep alcoves. Most of these were occupied, the shadowy corners providing good cover for any number of illicit activities. Morgan let these pass him by. They were here to catch a serial killer, not bust some guys for selling uppers or indecent exposure.

Only one of the bathroom stalls was occupied, and Morgan was certain it wasn't by Reid unless he'd swapped out his shoes and gained an extra pair of legs in the ten minutes he'd been gone. A glance around confirmed that he was noticeably absent, ratcheting up the feeling of unease that had been lingering all afternoon. Concern had spilled over into worry. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut alerting that something was definitely wrong.

He ducked back out of the bathroom and looked around. The corridor had a single alcove about ten feet along, before it terminated. The only light at the far end was the sickly glow of the fire exit sign above the large, industrial door. If it hadn't been January, Morgan might never have noticed that the door stood slightly ajar. The sudden icy draft of midwinter air whistling along the otherwise sweltering corridor gave it away.

Morgan approached and found a shoe that had clearly seen better days, wedged between the door and the jam, keeping it from closing behind whoever had exited. With a glance around him to check the coast was clear, he pushed the door open just enough to slip out. Resting it carefully against the shoe once more, he turned around.

Reid had missed Morgan's silent exit. His back was to the door as he strode purposefully towards the streetlamp that illuminated the far end of the dingy alley. Morgan almost called out to him, to halt his retreat, when he noticed his hands. The right was raised, and flicked back and forth, uncomfortably so on a wrist that seemed unnaturally loose. The left was against his chest, out of sight until Reid turned sharply on his heel and paced back up the length of the alley. Morgan watched as Reid's fist beat against his sternum. Hard. Hard enough for Morgan to hear the dull echoing thud as he approached.

Reid's head was down, watching each of his purposeful steps. Silent words fell from his lips, and he was evidently so caught up in his own mind, that he came almost toe to toe with Morgan before he realised he wasn't alone.

Surprise had him skittering back like a nervous animal, almost tripping over his own feet as he raised wide, panicked eyes to Morgan's face.

"Morgan," he gasped, a little of the panic subsiding slightly as he realised who was stood before him. Hands that had been in constant motion were now trapped as his arms crossed tightly, pinning them to his sides near his armpits. His shoulders were hunched, and his head was down. A protective stance felt like too casual a term, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen Reid's body language scream leave me the fuck alone quite so viscerally before.

"Reid?" Morgan began, cautiously, hands raised in surrender. "Kid, what's going on with you? You've been off since we started this whole thing."

Reid shook his head, taking a few further steps back. His jaw was tight and the finger at his sides curled into fists, clutching at the seems of his shirt. Morgan watched the muscles in his arms tighten, as though the arms wrapped around his chest were holding him together. Hugging himself so tightly that there was barely room to draw breath.

Words were tumbling from his lips again, but they were too soft for Morgan to catch against the dull bass still pounding through the walls beside them.

"Kid?"

"I can't do this Morgan. I thought I could but I can't," Reid yelled. A sudden explosion of sound and movement that caught Morgan off guard as Reid threw his hands into the air before clutching them in his hair and pulling.

"Woah Reid, kid, okay," Morgan took a step back himself, hands raised higher, trying to appear as non threatening as possible in the face of Reid's outburst. "Hey, hey, come on now, you're gonna hurt yourself." The death grip he had on his hair had to be painful for both his head and hands. "Talk to me kid, what can't you do?"

"This! This. This whole operation." Reid released his fingers to gesture wildly at the door before pressing the palm of his hand against the spot on his chest he'd been attacking earlier. "I thought I could do it and hold it together and not have a problem but I can't." He shook his head with a sharp exhale, half turning away and running a hand through his hair in exasperation, head tipped back to the night sky.

As suddenly as he'd exploded out, he collapsed in. Head dropping, his chin to his chest, arms wrapping around himself once more, clutching at his biceps. Seemingly without Reid realising, the thumb of his right hand began digging at the crook of his left elbow. It drew Morgan's eyes to the skin there that was already red raw.

The pieces suddenly clunked, with a sickening clarity, into place.

A squirming nausea settled in his gut and guilt bloomed in his chest as he finally understood. Reid's reluctance made sense and he could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. However, now was definitely not the time for a self-pity party. Reid was on the cusp of spiralling into a far worse state, and despite wanting nothing more than to call off the sting, bundle him up and take him home, he knew the kid would fight him tooth and nail. The desire to follow through for the case always coming before even his most basic of needs. Even if Morgan dragged him away, the guilt would consume him and further compound the issue.

Resolutely shoving his own feelings to the back of his mind, he zeroed in on the task at hand: Talking Reid down enough to get through the next hour and make it home, UnSub or no UnSub.

"Kid, hey, pretty boy, can you look at me?" he asked, softly, as his mind scrambled together a new plan of action. That particular term of endearment seemed to catch Reid's attention. He glanced over at Morgan, eyes struggling to hold to his face, but focus clearly attuned his way.

"Tonight we're here together right, as a couple." He laid the emphasis thick on that final word. Reid gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

"Then let's do this. Together." He held out his hand to Reid. "I  won't let go. We'll get through the next hour, get the guy if he's here, and then we can talk. I won't let go." He etched sincerity into every syllable of his final sentence, letting it shine through his eyes as Reid checked his expression again with a flick up and away.

"Promise me, Morgan," he insisted, in barely more than a whisper. The urgency in his almost imperceivable words tugged painfully at Morgan's heart.

"I promise kid," he replied, his own voice steady, proving he had strength enough for them both. "I've got you."

He watched Reid take some deep, steadying breaths, hands still clenched around his upper arms. Curls that had been wrenched at with such ferocity hung loose, shielding his face from view.

Morgan waited, hand still out.

"Alright." Reid's fingers were cold in his. Derek laced them together regardless and chuffed at it gently with his other hand.

"I've got you."

***

The warmth of the club was welcome after the chilly night air of the alley. Morgan lead Spencer back down the dimly lit corridor, past the alcoves of couples, into the main body of the building. Morgan took a moment to glance surreptitiously up at one of the security cameras, making eye contact with the red LED for a few seconds before turning back to Reid. He knew it would be enough for Garcia to pinpoint them and reassure the team of their safety.

"Are you both alright?" asked the voice in his ear. He'd almost forgotten about his earpiece - the UnSub, the operation, the case - in light of Reid's distress. He was thankful that the club setting prevented them being mic-ed up, glad that he and Reid been able to have their conversation in private.

With another glance toward the camera and a single nod, he tugged a smile onto his face and relaxed into his role as 'attentive boyfriend'. It felt more crucial to sell the ruse now, to try to draw the UnSub out. If they could catch him tonight, it would save Reid having to endure a repeat performance tomorrow.

Reid had been scanning the room, but Morgan's eyes on him drew his gaze back. The eyeliner that Emily had insisted on had smudged slightly, somehow enhancing the effect it had on making the hazel eyes pop. The curls at Reid's forehead we're mussed from his clutching at them. It felt entirely natural for Morgan to reach up with his free hand and run his fingers through the tangles, brushing them softly back from Reid's face, and tucking the longer strands back behind his ears. If he let his fingers linger against Reid's cheek for a few moments, he chalked it up to commitment to the bit.

Reid's eyes were wide as his hand fell. Morgan watched his Adam's apple bob in the long, pale column of his neck. A pink tongue peaked out for a moment to wet his lips. He leant into Morgan's space, and for a wild moment Morgan thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, Reid's hand landed on his chest, his lips an inch from his ear.

"We should dance, he needs to see us if we're going to draw him out," Reid yelled over the music.

He lent back just far enough to see Morgan's face for a response. Morgan could feel his warm breath against his cheek. The hair he'd tucked behind Reid's ear quivered slightly at his own exhales. The flickering club lights played over Reid's face, throwing the sharp features into harsher relief. It gave him an even more other worldly appearance, highlighted in vibrant colours against the stark, angled shadows. Morgan's own lips suddenly felt very dry. His own tongue flickered out and he was almost certain he saw Spencer's gaze dart down for a moment.

The case. They were on a case.

He gave a curt nod of agreement at Reid's suggestion and allowed him to step back and tug Morgan through the throngs towards the dance floor.

Bodies pressed against them from all sides, the pull and push of the crowd threatening to separate them. Still, Morgan held fast, keeping Reid's hand firmly in his as they swayed with the masses towards the centre. Finding a pocket of space, Reid halted and turned, facing Morgan with a look of apprehension. Morgan realised that their joined hands would make dancing difficult. Yet there was no way he was going to break his promise after the look he'd seen in the alley. He pondered for a few moments as the pair of them went with the flow of the people pressed around them.

An idea came to him and he raised their joined hands, squeezing it lightly to focus Reid's attention. He drew both hands down to his hip, and without a second of broken contact, wound Reid's fingers into the loops of his belt. Wrapping them securely into the fabric and giving another squeeze, he took his now free hand and curled it around the corresponding loops of Reid's dark jeans. His thumb rested against the sliver of skin between the waistband of the jeans at the ridiculously small shirt.

He used his grip to encourage Reid forward, demonstrating how much hold he had and bringing him close enough to speak. It was Morgan's turn to lean in, wrapping a hand around Reid's neck to draw him down that extra inch.

"Not letting go," he assured him, so close to Reid's ear he could feel curls tickling his face. "Keep an eye out and just follow my lead."

Reid blinked a few times before nodding. Morgan let the hand from his neck slide down his body to his waist, bracketing Reid's hips. The warmth of the skin there felt like a brand against his palm. His index finger sat just underneath the hem of the shirt at Reid's lower back, his thumb teased the edge of his iliac crest. He fixed his eyes firmly on the least exposed area he could find in an attempt to give his self-control something to work with against the swirling need that was growing in his lower belly. This turned out to be the patch of white cotton stretched across Reid's right clavicle. Then, he began to sway them both in time with the pulsing beat of the music.

It took Reid a minute to find his feet. Even with Morgan's guiding hands, he was unsteady, unsure whether to plant his feet or keep them light. If it had been any other situation, Morgan would have let it be. So what if his coordinationally challenged friend was off beat, the movement didn't matter, he had more than enough coordination for them both. Here, however, thinking about his feet was stealing all of Reid's already depleted focus. Morgan could see the flashes of frustration in the clenching of his jaw.

It's for the case. Don't get any ideas.

Throwing caution to the wind, he slid his free hand further around Reid's back, palm now flush against the ridges of his spine. The fingers in his belt loop tugged, encouraging him forward a few fumbling steps until their hips pressed together. Morgan's leg slotted between Reid's and he could feel the heat of his lower belly through his own shirt.

A huff of breath blew past his ear, yet as he looked up, Reid was still scanning the crowds as though Morgan's actions changed nothing.

It worked like a charm. As Morgan began guiding them once more, Reid, now far more secure, tucked against Morgan's body with a hand at his back, went almost boneless. Still on his feet, holding his weight enough, with a laxity in his hips and knees that left them entirely in Morgan's hands. Reid's body was entirely his to control, and fuck if that wasn't a heady feeling that left him far more drunk than even a crate of beers.

The scent of Reid's shampoo mixed with some earthy undertone as Reid began to sweat, the effect of which was only amplified by their increased closeness. Morgan was engulfed in him, every sense alight with Spencer Reid. It was almost the final straw for his composure as something caught his eye in his peripherals and he glanced down. The dark pink of Reid's nipples stood out prominently through the fabric that had become sheer with sweat. There was no question as to whether he could trace them now. That and every other facet of Reid's chest as the fabric clung everywhere.

Being thankful for the arrival of a serial killer was likely considered bad optics from a member of the BAU. However, in that moment, Morgan couldn't help the wave of gratitude that swept over him as Reid tapped at Morgan's hip and nodded to a point directly behind him, allowing him to step back from what was about to become an incredibly hard thing to conceal.

It was Reid who took his hand this time, winding their fingers together without hesitation, his single minded focus on the potential UnSub not enough to eclipse the promise between them. He spun Morgan around in his haste to navigate through the crowd, tugging him along in his wake through the crush. Morgan couldn't see where Reid was headed, the extra inch having given him an advantage. Instead he made brief eye contact with a camera, letting Reid lead as he kept the team informed.

"We see him," Hotch said in his ear.

They'd almost reached the edge of the dance floor, not far from where their previous potential victims had been stood, when Reid suddenly stopped. He spun around, surprisingly light on his feet, with an exaggerated grin spread across his face, eyes slightly hooded.

"Babe," Reid wined, in an unnaturally high drawl. It was the only warning Morgan got before 160lb of lanky genius suddenly collapsed into his chest. Reid's arm flopped over his shoulder, cheeks millimetres apart, lips once again blowing warm breath against Morgan's ear.

"He's at your 10 and he's been watching us for a while," Reid breathed, low and serious, "I'm sorry, you're going to have to be the victim."

Morgan's acknowledgement came in a double squeeze of their clasped hands.

"I don't wanna go home yet," Reid moaned in the same high voice. He pulled back slightly to look Morgan in the eyes. "Please babe, it's so early, I wanna dance!"

Reid looked so wonderfully happy and carefree, in a way he rarely ever did in the rest of life. Morgan had to consciously remind himself it was an act and that his part to play in crushing that joy was all an aspect of the performance. It still tugged at his chest and left a sour taste in his mouth as the vitriol spewed forth.

"No, I'm done, you had your dance," Morgan brushed him off, already turning towards the door.

"Pleaaaaaasssee, babe, please." Reid did annoyingly winy far too well. The inflection grated against even Morgan's incredibly tolerant eardrums. He decided to lean into this to really get the UnSub on side.

"Stop," he snapped, grabbing at the arm still draped over his shoulder, his whole hand curling easily around Reid's bicep. Reid winced despite Morgan's efforts to still be as gentle as possible while making it believable. "You know I hate this whiny crap," he growled, face lined with disgust. "Were going home."

"Babe, you're hurting me." The plea falling from Reid's lips, along with the little uncomfortable squirm in his grip almost broke his character there and then. Once again, he was rescued by impeccable timing from their UnSub.

A large hand landed on Morgan's shoulder, that had his head flicking around. He feigned surprise although he'd tracked every moment of the man's approach.

"The kid said no," he said, in a low, dangerous voice. "Maybe you should go home."

"Who the fuck are you?" Morgan asked, before turning back to Reid. "Who the fuck is this? Is this why you were so long in the bathroom?" he asked, throwing the accusations thick and fast.

"No, no, babe, I'd never, I don't know him!" Reid defended himself, with wide eyes that almost looked to be sparkling with tears as he shook his head.

"You should treat your boyfriend with more respect," the UnSub continued, the hand on Morgan's shoulder becoming uncomfortably tight.

The unexpected squeeze to his hand had the realisation of what needed to take place slamming into him like a freight train. Reid's mind had made it there already, ten steps ahead and watching the conclusion he already knew to be true dawn on Morgan as well. Nausea rolled in his gut, so hard he had to fight to stay upright and focused. He took a breath.

"Fuck this," he yelled as he shrugged off the UnSub's hand. "I don't need this, you can have him." Morgan threw Reid's arm backwards, almost sending him to the floor as he spun away. He began to stride towards the door, but the hand in his pulled him up short, the tether not yet broken.

"Babe, Terry, please," Reid pleaded in a small voice, barely audible over the still pounding club music. The alias was a nice touch, giving the UnSub something to latch onto. Still, the heartbroken look in Reid's sparkling eyes was killing him.

Reid gave a final squeeze. Permission.

Morgan grabbed Reid's wrist and wrenched his hand free, shoving him back.

"Don't come home."

With a final look of disgust at Reid and the UnSub, with bile in his throat, Morgan turned and strode away. Reid's cries rang in his ears as he kept moving, one foot in front of the other, towards the exit. The world felt muffled around him as he walked in a daze, his mind screaming at him from every corner.

You left him. You promised and you left him. You promised!

"Morgan. Morgan. Derek!"

The voice in his ear dragged him back to reality. Looking around, he realised he was in the atrium, music still spilling from the main venue, but ultimately quieter as people cued for entry and coat check.

His eyes found the camera and he nodded before heading for the front door. Once outside, he flicked the mute switch on his receiver.

"Did he take the bait?" he asked. The unspoken question hung in the air around him.

"He's following you," Hotch replied and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. "Careful Morgan," Hotch warned, a reminder that he was the one being hunted.

"Right," he murmured. As difficult as it was, he pushed his final moment of Reid's grief stricken face and raised hand from his mind. The quicker they caught the guy, the quicker he could get back to Reid.

"Stay on fifth," Garcia's voice told him. "There's a cut through in about 400 yards, if he's going to take the chance, it'll be there."

"Got it."

The walk felt like miles. He attempted to keep his pace steady, with the occasional amble, sweetening the deal with the illusion of inebriation. Finally he reached the indicated spot and paused, turning and looking down it with a hand braced against one corner of the wall. He forced a confused look over his face as he peered into the gloom before shoving away from the wall clumsily and staggering into the alleyway.

The second alleyway of the night. This time, he was the one in a heightened state, adrenaline coursing through him as he pricked his ears for even the smallest sounds approaching from the rear.

"I told you to be nicer to your boyfriend, Terry."

If Morgan hadn't been expecting it, the growl in his ear wouldn't have been enough warning to avoid the knife aiming for his kidneys. The need to gloat proved to be their killers downfall.

Morgan twisted away, the knife grazing across his side, pain blooming from lower back to hip, but Morgan knew it wasn't deep. The brief glance he'd got back in the club told him to use the man's build against him. Tall and top heavy, he went down hard as Morgan went low, barrelling into his middle. He heard the knife fall to the floor with a clatter.

They sprawled on the floor, Morgan straddling his thighs, hands on his chest. Both realised at the same moment that even with Morgan's physique, he didn't stand a chance when it came to a show of upper body strength. A nasty grin spread over the UnSub's face.

Morgan enjoyed watching it evaporate as the barrel of a gun appeared beside his head.

"Don't even think about it," Prentiss warned from beside him.

"Good job Morgan," Rossi added from the other, handing him a pair of cuffs.

Close it. Close it and find him.

***

"Last seen headed towards the restrooms, my love."

"Thanks, baby girl, you're the best," Morgan murmured into his com.

"I know," she preened before adopting a more serious tone, "go find our boy wonder."

Morgan tore away from the flashing lights, almost running down the alley between fourth and fifth, feet pounding against the pavement as he headed back towards the club.

A voice caught him before he reached the door

"Morgan."

He came to a screeching halt, almost tripping over himself as he back-peddled at the mouth of the alley they'd convened in earlier that evening. Leaning against a wall, just outside the cone of light cast by the streetlamp, stood Reid.

"Kid," Morgan breathed, relief flooding through him at the sight of him.

"Did you get him?" Reid asked, pushing himself away from the wall as Morgan approached, his arms once again wrapped tightly about his chest, head down. Any trace of the fake confidence of earlier had dissipated entirely.

"Yeah, we got him."

The sweat on Reid's shirt had dried in the cool night air and Morgan could see the lines of gooseflesh all along his exposed arms. Glossy though his lips still were, the shine did nothing to hide the slightly blue hue. All of this had Morgan shucking his coat as he closed the few steps between them and holding it aloft for Reid to slide into.

"Thanks," he murmured, as he manoeuvred his limbs into the sleeves. Morgan stepped around him once it was settled across his shoulders and zipped him up, keeping as much of his residual heat trapped inside as possible.

"There's gloves in the pocket too," he added as he tugged the zip right up to Reid's chin before absentmindedly tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

They both froze a second later, Morgan's fingers still tangled loosely in Reid's hair.

He hadn't even paused to think. The performance they'd been putting on all evening had come to him so naturally, he'd forgotten entirely there was no longer a need for the 'boyfriend' facade. In light of finding Reid seemingly unharmed, he'd let the desires that were entirely his spill over. The darkness of the club had allowed him to convince himself they were part of the act. There was no such excuse beneath the sickly glow of the streetlight in the frigid January night.

The air around them felt thick. Reid's eyes, still surrounded by the last lingering vestiges of liner, were unreadable in the low light. His pupils were wide and Morgan couldn't remember if this was a good sign or a bad one. He hoped it was just a by product of his lurking in the darkness.

The reason why the promise to not let go had been so important reared it's ugly head once more.

A voice in his ear almost had him jump out of his skin.

"Have you got him, Morgan?"

Hotch's words broke them both free. Morgan's hand retracted swiftly, dropping back to his side. Reid ducked his head, burying his hands deep into the pockets of the borrowed jacket.

"Yeah, yeah I've got him," he replied, voice rough around his dry mouth. "I'm gonna take him home."

"Take care of him Morgan. See you both tomorrow."

Knowing at that, he was absolved for the night, he tugged the earpiece out and tucked it into the pocket with the receiver. Eyes tracking back to Reid, he found waves of visceral hostility emanating from every inch of his stance. The same leave me the fuck alone attitude brought on by being ambushed in the alley, hung about him once more.

Morgan couldn't blame him. He'd made a promise to not let go. A promise designed to keep him safe in the face of his own wavering ability to do so. Reid so rarely asked for anything, especially when it came to his own wellbeing. The case would always come first, regardless of any personal toll it might take. He'd placed his hand - his trust - in Morgan's and Morgan had torn it away with a look of disgust. Even with Reid's permission, Morgan knew a line had been crossed in that moment.

The least he could do now, was ensuring he remained safe for the rest of the night, whatever it brought his way.

"Come on kid, let's get you warmed up."

Morgan cranked up the heat in the borrowed SUV and angled as many of the vents as possible in Reid's direction. Even at 6'1, he looked small. The oversized coat swamped his slight frame and he seemed to sink into the deep seats of the car, curled up till his head barely reached the headrest. He kept his face turned away, watching the world pass by through the window. The silence felt stifling in the increasingly stuffy car, but Morgan was loathed to turn up the radio or down the heat for Reid's sake.

After what felt like one of the most uncomfortable twenty minutes of their entire friendship, they arrived at Reid's apartment building. It seemed that Reid hadn't really been seeing much of the world pass by, as he failed to register where they were until Morgan put it in park and switched off the vehicle. His head raised and he pulled himself upright, looking down at his hands.

"Thank you for bringing me home," Reid murmured, fingers twisting together in his lap. "And for everything else. I," he swallowed. "I would have compromised the operation, if you hadn't been there. So thank you."

"Of course kid," Morgan replied. "I'm-" he sighed, feeling again the weight of guilt on his shoulders. "I'm just sorry I had to break that promise."

"It's fine," Reid assured him promptly with a shake of his head. "You had to. It worked. It was entirely necessary that you play the part well enough to convince him to target you. There was no other way."

"Reid-"

"I'll see you tomorrow Morgan," he cut across him in a clinical, detached tone. Neutral and friendly and devoid of any of the usual warmth they shared. "Thank you, again."

"Reid."

"Oh, right, the coat, sorry." He started tugging hastily at the zipper at his chin. The hurried approach only served to jam the fabric between the teeth, trapping him in the jacket.

"Reid!" Morgan, forgetting himself again in the face of Reid's struggle, reached out and laid a hand over his. It was the first contact they'd had since the moment in the alley. Despite how hard Reid tried, he couldn't hide the flinch as Morgan's skin touched his. The pained flicker across his face was almost audible, unmissable by all present. He attempted to school his expression once more, but they both knew the facade was broken.

Morgan had more success in concealing the punch to the gut he'd taken at Reid's reaction. His only subtle tell was the death grip he held on the wheel and a tightening clench of his jaw.

"Sorry kid," he murmured, taking his hand back.

After a few moments more of vain struggling, Reid let his hands drop from the zipper with a sigh. An awkward, stifling silence settled between them.

Morgan cracked first.

"Let's get you inside."

Morgan allowed him a wide birth as they headed up the three flights of stairs together. Upon approaching the door, Reid automatically reached for his bag before realising it was still securely tucked away in the Quantico locker room. The look he shot Morgan as this realisation made him incredibly glad for his forward thinking. Reid exhaled, relief tinged with confusion flooding his face as Morgan held a set of keys aloft.

"Borrowed them from Hotch before coming to find you," he explained.

The parallels of Reid's outstretched hand, mirroring both the gesture Morgan had offered Reid mere hours before, and the moment the promise had been severed, served only to throw into stark relief how horribly wrong everything felt now. Here, with a lance of pain behind his sternum, he purposefully ensured their hands had no chance of touching, as he dropped the keys into Reid's open palm.

The apartment was the usual level of chaos. Books stacked on every available surface and papers strewn across the desk along with a small collection of used mugs. Reid had towed off his shoes and dropped the keys into a bowl beside the door. As Morgan straightened up from removing his own shoes, he found Reid in the same position, staring out at the room, eyes glazed.

Yet again, Morgan found himself wondering if he'd been too slow in his return to the club. He had to swallow down bile once more at this thought before taking a steadying breath. Reid needed him now. Whatever had or hadn't happened, his friend needed him. He'd let him down once already tonight, he wasn't about to repeat his mistake.

Stepping around to his front, still keeping a safe distance, he drew him back with a soft utterance of his name.

"Yes?" Reid questioned, slightly dazed, as though confused how Morgan came to be standing there.

"Can I help?" Morgan asked, pointing at the zipper.

Reid glanced down. "Oh, yes..." He nodded slowly, but Morgan held back, as it seemed Reid wasn't quite done.

"...Yes."

"Alright."

Morgan stepped up slowly, hands raised, keeping them in Reid's line of sight. He pinched the stuck fabric and jiggled the zipper with his other hand. Reid's breath was warm against his fingers as he stood, motionless while Morgan worked just below his chin. Reid's persistence had snarled up the zipper at multiple points. Morgan found himself leaning in, needing to get a better look at the mess if he was going to stand a chance at unpicking it.

The tiny inhale would have gone unnoticed if they hadn't been stood mere inches apart. He had to force his own hands to remain calm in the face of Reid's obvious discomfort. Fighting the urge to just tear the fabric free in order to step back and allow Reid his personal space, his attempt to help somehow making things worse.

Finally, mercifully, the teeth gave way, allowing Morgan to pull the fabric taught and run the zipper over it, pulling it free. He continued it all the way down until both halves of the jacket pinged apart just below Reid's navel.

"There," he sighed, relieved, raising his head with a small smile.

Reid's cheeks were flushed. At Morgan's word he immediately slid the coat from his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor behind him. Morgan managed to catch sight of Reid's pupils, once again blown wide, this time without the excuse of darkness, before Reid's eyes fluttered closed. A moment later, the inches that separated them vanished as Reid's hand cupped the back of his neck and his warm, dewy lips pressed against Morgan's.

The simmering spark that he'd been tamping down all night exploded as Reid kissed him. It forced a gasp of shock into his lungs and Reid seized his moment of open mouthed surprise to probe forward with his tongue. He licked into Morgan's mouth with an intensity that had blood rapidly diverting south, and had him reaching out to grab at Reid's hip to steady himself. It was the culmination of every lingering look and charged moment he'd been fighting back all night, as well as a surge of hope that perhaps his actions hadn't irreparably damaged their friendship. Morgan was more than happy to take all this and run with it, to wherever it may take them.

It was Reid's hand that brought him back to earth with a jolt. Not the one clutching at his neck, urging him closer, deeper into the kiss. Rather his other hand, that found Morgan's and laced their fingers together. A small, inconsequential, tender gesture in comparison to the heat and longing at every other point of contact between them. Yet it was this that had him raising his hand from Reid's waist to his chest and pushing him gently back.  Loathed as he was to halt what he'd been holding back from all night, the question of what had taken place between releasing Reid's hand and the darkened alleyway haunted him.

He needed to be sure, for both their sakes.

Reid's pupils were still like saucers, cheeks still a deep pink, accompanied now by lips that were slightly swollen. It would have taken more resolve than Morgan possessed to not press forward again if he hadn't met Reid's gaze. Eyes that had previously been wide with want, were now filled with panic.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, shaking his head, releasing Morgan's neck as though burned. He made to step back, teetering on fleeing, even though this was his apartment. Morgan held him back, holding fast to the fingers slotted between his. Not even an UnSub could make him release Reid this time.

"Hey, hey hang about pretty boy," Morgan soothed with a reassuring squeeze to the reclaimed hand.

"I shouldn't have I'm sorry and I promise I'll never do anything like this ever again. I'll never even speak of it, please, I just-"

"Spencer."

The soft utterance of his first name in Derek's mouth was enough to cut his diatribe short. Derek's thumb ran gently back and forth against Spencer's knuckle. A consistent, soothing rhythm Derek hoped might help ground him a fraction.

"Yes?" Spencer breathed, still tense, anxious and flighty, but stationary for the time being. His gaze flickered from Derek's face then away within fractions of a second, evidently finding sustained eye contact overwhelming, while still needing to read every micro-expression on Derek's face.

Derek took a stealing breath, both to quell his still interested arousal and to embolden him in the face of a difficult conversation. "I need to ask you a question, but it's one I'm not sure you're gonna like." His tone and face were grave.

Spencer's Adam's apple bobbed. "What?"

"Did you use in the time between when I left the club and when I found you outside?"

He watched Spencer's shutters fall in real time. Watched the myriad of emotions flicker across his face in a split second as he decided on his best course of action. He began with indignation.

Reid's face screwed up, brows almost disappearing into his hairline, as he huffed out and incredulous gasp. "What, you-you, you think I'm high?" he spat, lips curling into an cruel, twisted smile. "You think the only reason I'd do this is because I'm high?"

"No," Morgan replied calmly, not taking the bait as Reid attempted to fein offence to push him away. "But you made me promise not to let you go in there, and I did."

The laugh that punched out of Spencer's chest had no humour to it. Reid's face twisted, nostrils flaring, brows lowering from their over exaggerated high arch into a frown. His jaw clenched as though he were chewing over unpleasant words before relaxing as he released a deep sigh.

"You-" he sighed again. "You knew?" The bravado was gone as quick as it had come, as though the farce was too exhausting to maintain if Derek already knew the truth.

"You have a tell kid."

At Spencer's confused expression, Derek pointed at the crooks of his elbows. The skin there was still raw from earlier, a few small scabs having formed where Spencer's worrying had broken the skin.

"Oh."

Derek allowed him a few seconds to process before drawing him back to the question.

"So, are you?"

Spencer's face turned back to Derek's, away from the evidence of his cravings. "High?" he asked, no such qualms about saying the word now it was out in the open. "No." His reply was so blunt, and his gaze continued to meet Derek's before skittering away, in a way that made it difficult for him to determine if this was the sign of a lie, or just a continuation of his struggle with eye contact.

"Honestly, kid?" he pressed him as carefully as possible. "Only you've been pretty off since I picked you up. Zoning out, closed off, on edge."

The flinch in the car echoed between them.

"Honestly," Spencer replied. "You can check. If you need more than just my word as proof." That Spencer was willing to subject himself to such scrutiny, was confirmation enough for Derek.

"It's-" Spencer attempted to continue before Derek could ask his follow up. "I-" he sighed, frustrated, the words seeming more difficult to find than the casual discussion of his drug use. It had Derek's brows pulling together in confusion, concern rearing it's head.

Spencer struggled for a good 15 seconds, whatever internal battle he was fighting, playing out across his face at lightning speed. Eventually, his words returned, stilted and stammering, but it was enough. Derek knew Spencer well enough to read between the lines.

"It was all too much," he forced through a clenched jaw, "the... the... everything."

The nights oddities fell into place. The touch aversion, the curling into himself, the struggle to coordinate his body, the efforts it took to maintain focus, the flapping hand and the pounding at his own chest.

"Overstimulated?" he asked softly, providing Spencer with the language he still struggled to articulate himself.

Spencer's sigh was confirmation enough. "Been fighting it since putting on my shoes without socks. It wasn't you though," Spencer clarified. "Just the everything."

Another reassuring squeeze passed between them.

"And, you know I gotta ask, you didn't buy anything either?" he said, returning to his previous aborted question, covering all bases while the topic remained on the table.

"You think there's space to hide anything in this outfit?" Spencer countered, a week attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, a tactic he resorted to when feeling uncomfortable. It still drew a wry smile from Derek.

"Still-"

"No," Spencer replied to his unfinished question of confirmation, "no, I didn't buy anything."

Derek saw him chew on his lip and he held back.

Spencer's free hand migrated once again to the crook of his elbow. "I thought about it though," he admitted, head down.

A curl had fallen across his face as he turned his face to his feet. Derek reached out and tucked it away behind his ear for the third time that night, this time, without question that his touch was welcome. His hand trailed down across Spencer's cheek to beneath his chin, using his fingers to coax his head back up.

"But you didn't," he murmured, as Spencer's eyes finally met his own.

Spencer swallowed. "No, I didn't."

"Proud of you."

Derek watched in real time as Spencer's pupils widened, the last of the worrying phenomena finally explained. It stoked the simmering in his gut, the obvious tell of Spencer's desire, like blood in the water.

"So," he began, voice dropping a few notches, "that kiss?"

Redness bloomed across Spencer's cheeks and Derek could feel the heat against his hand.

"Yeah, uh." He exhaled a small, bashful laugh. "I...," he sighed before a flurry of words fell out his mouth. "I've wanted to kiss you all night."

"Oh?" Derek raised a single eyebrow.

"Yes," Spencer breathed, plowing forwards, "since I turned around in that locker room. You-" He raked his eyes over Derek's body, even with his extensive vocabulary, rendered speechless. That the sight of him could have such an effect on three PhD's-hyperlexic-20,000 words per minute-Dr Spencer Reid, was a hell of an ego boost. It had a smile curling at the corner of Derek's mouth. Yet, he wasn't about to let Spencer be the only one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

"You think you had problems," he retorted, voice almost a growl. "Do you have any idea how much self-control it's taken to not get carried away with you looking like this?"

"Really?" Spencer asked, a pleasantly surprised smile creeping onto his face.

"If the UnSub hadn't shown up when he did." He let the thought hang, letting Spencer replay the moment over in his mind as Derek looked back at him through hooded eyes.

Spence's throat bobbed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes flicked down to Derek's own. However, any further action was interrupted by the immense yawn that forced it's way through his lips, wide enough to have his jaw cracking and leave him swaying slightly in it's wake.

"Let's call this a rain-check for now," Derek smiled, cupping Spencer's jaw and running a thumb over his cheek. "It's been a long night. We've got time."

"Stay?" Spencer murmured, a question rather than a request that sent a twinge through his chest.

"Of course pretty boy," he rumbled back, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Kiss or no kiss, there was no way I was letting you spend tonight here alone."

Spencer smiled. "Thank you." The unbridled affection in his face and voice almost took Derek's breath away.

With the hand still at Spencer's chin, he pulled him down for a brief, fleeting press of lips.

A promise of things to come.

They'd figure out the rest.

Tomorrow, Derek would drive Spencer in, their fingers laced together on Derek's knee the whole way. They'd complete paperwork around furtive glances and small smiles and cups of coffee brought just so he had a reason to brush their fingers. They'd go home via a meeting and Derek would wait in the parking lot, wrapping Spencer up in a hug as he exited tired and red eyed. They'd come back to his and get takeout from the good Thai place and they'd talk.

Derek would apologise for having pushed him into a situation he'd attempted to excuse himself from. Spencer would apologise for not being honest about struggling. They'd both agree to work on more open communication. They'd talk about boundaries and expectations. Then Spencer would ask Derek if he could kiss him now. He would smile against Derek's lips and taste like lemongrass and their fingers would find one another and lace together.

They'd talk to Hotch, he'd talk to Penelope, they'd talk to the team. They'd fill out forms and agree to team rotations and endure a chorus of 'finally' and 'took you long enough'.

Here and now, Derek let Spencer lead him, fingers laced together, a tired, yet content smile on his face, towards a night spent curled around one another in sleep - one of many more to come - and the knowledge that whatever tomorrow may bring, they'd face it hand in hand. Together.