Messy curls, taut abdomen, bent knees: the odds and ends of everything that Spencer Reid was, Derek Morgan absolutely loved.
** this fic involves transmasc Reid. Both masculine and feminine terms will be used for Reid's genitalia.
It's so sweet, knowing that you love me. Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet.
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He'd known for a while, Derek did. His younger colleague coming out to him as a trans man didn't phase him as much as Spencer initially anticipated it would. Stumbling over his words, nearly spilling his freshly poured mug of vanilla cream-filled coffee onto the scratchy carpet of the bullpen. Derek just laughed. His usual, hearty laugh that always seemed to fill Spencer's gut with a thousand swarming butterflies. A hushed, breathy 'Derek, I'm trans,' and he felt as if he might implode right then and there.
Derek's reaction, or lack there of, was what nearly did him in, though. A pearly white smile followed by a deliciously simple okay and a warm hand gripping his shoulder. It didn't seem so scary anymore, Spencer noted. Maybe he truly was safe here, and not just within the BAU. With Derek. Garcia too had figured it out pretty quickly, not to anyone's surprise, insisting that the others wouldn't judge him as harshly as he feared they would. Spencer was still Spencer.
There was nothing that could possibly change that, either. Not for her, nor for anyone else. But things were slightly different in the last few months, specifically in the way Derek chose to interact with him. It wasn't in a bad way, far from it. He'd brush up against the younger male more often when walking in tandem. Side glances during round table meetings early in the morning before a new case. Hands lingering on that slim waist just a little bit longer than usual. Mouth ghosting over the shell of his ear with each fleeting whisper. And it was finally beginning to get to Spencer. Leaving him choking back tiny gasps of air as even the most gentle of notions left him trembling at the knees.
And what was he to do about it? He was left to tread these rough, open waters all by himself and god only knows how much longer he'll last before he sinks underneath the surface. Today was no different, except Spencer was left teetering the edge between throwing a punch to Derek's smug little grin and jumping his bones right in the middle of the parking lot. Did he even realize what he was doing? Was it all on purpose or was he truly just that oblivious? Because it couldn't possibly be more obvious than the fiery red cheeks Spencer sported, the sweat pooling at the base of his neck, the fidgety fingers. Derek wasn't dumb.
"Reid, you good?" His voice was startling in the silence Spencer had created within his own head. Trying desperately to keep his sanity (and hormones) at bay.
He blinked, looking up and over at Derek who sat beside him in the driver's seat. His smile was quick and dismissive, not letting his gaze linger for long at all.
"Yeah, good."
Derek wasn't buying that, not in a million years. He knew his pretty boy all too well, and something was definitely plaguing that eidetic mind of his. He just wasn't entirely sure what it was. Thick, dark brows furrowed as chocolate eyes narrowed, watching Spencer scramble to unbuckle his seat belt as fast he could.
