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Fic: Waves of Energy

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 20:35:38 GMT

Title: Waves of Energy

Author: Dri

Pairing: Morgan/Reid, always

Rating: R

Summary: Nothing can outlive time, therefore forever isn’t something one can offer. That’s the only truth Spencer has ever known.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Still poor; they're not mine.

Author’s note: Part of the universe created in my “Four times…” fic, but Waves of Energy can be read as a stand-alone. This piece is centered between The Third and Fourth Times.

Oh, and what would I do without my dear betas, Ana and Kelly? If this fic is legible, it’s because of them. Thanks ladies; you rock my fanfiction world!

Also thanks to anariazanyr I got a date for Morgan’s mother’s birthday. This fic kind of wrote itself after I learned it. There may even be sequels! So, thanks, girl!

Comments are loved, framed and cherished!

******************

It looks like the strange wave pattern of vibrating air molecules traveled through Spencer’s ears only to pull him from this rare, lazy afternoon nap; his brain doesn’t recognize the alien high-pitched sound as the ones produced by either his or Derek’s cell phone.

Then somewhere in his sleepy haze it clicks: they are at Derek’s; it must be his landline.

Spencer twitches, forehead and nose rasping against the soft fabric of Derek’s sweatshirt. He welcomes the light, volatile chemicals floating into his nostrils and that he registers as being Derek’s deodorant and clothing detergent and Derek himself, and wills the arm casually resting on his waist and soft snores coming from somewhere slightly above his hairline to pull him back to sleep.

A lost battle: the annoying wave pattern persists twice more. Spencer grabs two fistfuls of Derek’s sweatshirt, buries his nose against his boyfriend’s collarbone and softly calls his name, all without opening his eyes. The call isn’t about work; Spencer doesn’t need to fully wake up.

“What?” is the hoarse reply.

“Phone… landline.”

The arm on his waist is gone, leaving a stripe of skin that Spencer’s well worn wool cardigan alone can’t keep warm enough, so he burrows further against Derek as his boyfriend attempts to make his raspy voice clearer.

“This is Morgan.”

The arm around Spencer’s back tries to compensate its missing twin by traveling up and down Spencer’s arm. Could have worked had Derek’s hand not gone completely still a second later.

“Hey, mamma.”

And then Derek, in full alert mood, is asking Mrs. Morgan to wait a moment as he disentangles himself from Spencer and whispers a ‘sleep, baby’ against Spencer’s lips before he leaves the sofa they had snuggled on to watch a movie and goes to the kitchen, offering his mother a greeting dripping with warmth and laced with that dash of nervous anxiety which has made itself present in his voice as of late.

Spencer turns on his back and sprawls himself on the sofa, making use of the warm space Derek has just vacated.

Spencer shouldn’t be worried.

In fact, he isn’t worried. He isn’t bothered.

Mrs. Morgan has known for two months now. Derek says they are fine, that she took the news pretty well considering her only male offspring has been straight his whole life ( the last seven months non-withstanding ). She has been more confused than Derek’s sisters, less supportive than Garcia ( well, not fair; nobody can be more supportive of them than Garcia ), but she hasn’t outcast Derek. She still loves him.

So what if Derek’s voice falters by a millisecond when he first greets his mother? It is normal; Derek has been asleep after all, his vocal folds need lubrication and he hasn’t had any water yet. Also, if Derek chooses to talk to his mother in the kitchen, it is because he’s very considerate and hopes Spencer can go back to sleep.

Spencer wishes he could hear more than just a chair being pulled from its place at the table to welcome Derek’s weight in it. He wishes the wave length of Derek’s voice could reach him in the living room, because then it wouldn’t be eavesdropping.

And Spencer Reid doesn’t eavesdrop. He isn’t bothered or worried because Derek hasn’t been able to carry on a conversation with his family in Spencer’s presence since their story took a turn to the serious road of no return.

He really isn’t.

*****

It’s already dark outside. They have slept for longer than Spencer had thought.

He turns on the porch lights and goes all the way around the house to the backyard. Clooney, who has been toying around with an old ball, stops and waits for him. The dog seems to be actually smiling, happy to see Spencer.

As if.

Spencer and Clooney are far from being the best of friends, but after seven months of that you-come-anywhere-near-me-or-my-master-and-I’ll-bark-and-scare-the-shit-out-of-you dance of theirs, they’ve finally reached an understanding, much to Derek’s relief and amusement: Clooney won’t bark at Spencer if Spencer keeps a safe distance from the dog and his master whenever Derek is around. For Spencer that is alright. He’s never cared about dogs that much anyway, although he likes Clooney just fine. And truth be told, Clooney tolerates Spencer just fine too as long as there isn’t any witnesses around.

Spencer rolls the ball to Clooney a few times before leading the dog to the laundry room. He fills the dog’s water and food bowls for the night, spilling statistics to convince the dog of how lucky he is for having a master whose boyfriend treats him as well as Spencer does. Clooney snarls only once, reminding Spencer that said boyfriend is also the reason why Clooney now spends most of his nights locked in his master's laundry room. Spencer gets the message, decides not to tempt fate and escapes to the kitchen, where Derek is distractedly peeling an orange.

“Clooney settled for the night?” he asks, offering Spencer half of his orange and a smile.

Spencer sits besides his boyfriend and takes a bit of his orange. It’s a little too tart for his tastes, but still good. “Yeah, and he didn’t bark at me; not even once.”

“I think I heard a snarl.”

Spencer hates the burning sensation caused by the extra blood filling the vessels in his face, but he makes an effort to shrug it off and takes another bite of his orange; he isn’t giving Derek the satisfaction of seeing him blushing in embarrassment. “You’d better think again. It wasn’t a snarl. He has no reason to feel anxious around me if you’re not around, and he knows I was there to take care of his needs. Therefore I highly doubt what you heard was a snarl.”

The small lecture only makes Derek wink at him and Spencer decides to change the subject. He is about to ask if they should order Italian for dinner when Derek mentions the phone call.

“It was my mother,” he says, and there is some kind of sorrow in his eyes, if not in his voice.

Spencer fidgets in his chair not because he was nervous, but just because. “I know. I… heard you greeting her. Everything okay? Your sisters?”

Twice Derek nods in reply, and the sorrow is still there. Spencer can handle it.

“She asked about Thanksgiving. I told her my plans haven’t changed.”

Okay. So now Spencer can say he is also relieved, even if he feels a little bad because of Mrs. Morgan.

Spencer pulls his chair closer to Derek’s and kisses him. Derek and oranges make a striking combination. “Morgan, are you sure? I’ll be fine going to JJ’s on my own. I’m used to this and Garcia and Kevin will be there, too. You shouldn’t…”

Another good combination that really pleases Spencer is the feeling of Derek’s large fingers getting lost in Spencer’s hair. The moment he first landed his eyes on Derek Morgan at the BAU six years ago, he knew growing his hair longer would pay off someday.

Oh, and Derek’s tongue battling for control over his isn’t something Spencer plans to complain about anytime soon either.

“Now you listen to me,” Derek says, biting Spencer’s lower lip, and then getting down to business, eyes locked with Spencer’s and all. “As of this year, your days alone and without me are over. Got it?”

“But…”

“Reid, my mother won’t be alone. My sisters and their dates will be there with her and I’ll be seeing her the day after Thanksgiving. I’ll be there for her birthday, just like I do every year. It will be fine.”

“But she’s your mother.”

“And you are the guy who’s well on his way to ruining me for anyone else or any other relationship for the rest of my life.” Derek smiles and kisses him again. “Get used to this, pretty boy: you are stuck with me, and I ain’t letting you go,” Derek chants against his lips.

Spencer can be athletic given the right motivation. In a blink of eye he leaps from his chair to Derek’s lap and all but pins him down with his lips and arms. Derek laughs.

“Careful, Derek,“ Spencer teases in between kisses. “It sounds awfully like a promise.”

Derek puts an end to the kisses and doesn’t tease back, maybe because it’s unusual to have Spencer using his first name. Actually they don’t usually do first names, although in his mind Spencer says Derek all the time. On Spencer’s end, the vocalization of it only happens every now and then because the weight of the phonemes put together, the crossing of this final bridge terrifies Spencer like only few things in his life can, such as the fear of losing his mother or falling back into the Dilaudid grasp.

Derek breathes in, breathes out, doesn’t blink. He stares and uncurls the fingers of his left hand to map out Spencer’s face, fluttering points of heat charting along his cheekbones and lips, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his right ear when Derek tucks a lock of hair behind it. There’s a flush of the good kind, and Spencer leans into the touch, closes his eyes and hears the answer, more warm puffs of air than words, when Derek breathes against his chin.

“And it’s yours to have and to hold.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and leans in to press himself further against Derek. They are chest to shoulder, chin to forehead, heartbeat to the vein pulsing in Derek’s neck. Spencer’s thighs press harder against the firm muscles of this man’s, his hair brushing against the shaved head. Spencer knows he is the taller of the two, the smarter one; the genius. None of it matters because Derek has pulled Spencer apart, molecule by molecule, and has been slowly changing him into someone better and more resilient, stronger. Spencer knows that without Derek and his strength, all he would be now was a void, an empty space, a tall walking/talking machine of facts that many would never care to hear about or pay attention to.

And then Spencer opens his eyes. For the first time ever, he sees something unknown, yet eagerly yearned for, coming from deep inside Derek’s eyes and shining right there, in his dark irises. A truth stating that he, Doctor Spencer Reid, owner of three PhDs and reader of 20.000 word per minute can perhaps be the center of someone else’s universe too.

A whole new life uncoils and takes shape inside of Spencer. All the empty spaces are filled with what Derek is offering him.

Is this for real? Spencer desperately wants to ask, to beg; to believe. Will you really keep me?

Spencer keeps his heart’s desire to himself where it belongs, and gets rid of Derek’s sweatshirt instead. Derek lets him, and closes his eyes as Spencer uses the tip of his fingers to trace the lines of the firm muscles molding Derek’s torso, the infinitesimal needle punctures shaping the lion on his shoulder, his perky nipples, the straight line dividing the small curls of muscle that shape his stomach, and goes south, where Derek feels the most. Despite his jeans, Derek shakes when Spencer finds him, the erratic beating of his heart thrums hot against Spencer’s lips, and the hand sneaking up Spencer’s spine and pulling up his cardigan is the response Spencer needs to hear from him.

“God, Reid.”

Derek is beautiful, a masterpiece made of flesh and bones, muscles and tissues, and he sounds beautiful moaning under Spencer’s ministration. Spencer has a hard time trying to make sense of the fact that, yes, he can touch, he can feel, tease and kiss the perfection of man snaking an arm around his waist as his other one pulls Spencer’s face up for another kiss.

Spencer gives in and lets go, diving into Derek’s mouth because right now, if the hardness confined in his pants means anything, his life depends on it. Twice his clumsy fingers almost lose the fight against the buckle of Derek’s belt because Derek hasn’t been of much help, cupping Spencer’s buttocks and pulling Spencer up to place him right where he wants to be, only without the layers of clothing between them.

“Derek, a little space… Can’t work your belt…”

“Ah! The joys of being twenty-eight and horny…” There’s Derek’s laugh and more kisses. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Shut up and help me out here, old man.”

“Oh, I’ll show you old, all right.”

Ten pairs of thumbs, laughter and moans. That’s what they have become as Derek goes for Spencer’s fly the same time Spencer overcomes the last barrier keeping him from touching Derek for real. Derek is heavy and dark and creamy in Spencer’s hand. Derek’s own hands are fire melting the muscles of Spencer’s behind. He pushes impatiently against the fingertips tracing the passage that would grant Derek the access into his body. Still Derek refuses, which frustrates Spencer to no end.

“I want you,” he pleads, suckling the flattest segment of Derek’s earlobe, his hand applying the right pressure around Derek in a silent reminder of what Derek will be getting if he lets go.

“Think again, pretty boy,” Derek gasps, getting reacquainted with Spencer’s neck, the tip of Spencer’s member. “It’s only pretty old me; nothing special about that.”

“Don’t say that,” Spencer says with a kind of urgency that would have made him uncomfortable with any other person. But this one person here is Derek, and Derek has earned so much more from Spencer. “There’s nothing more important to me than pretty, old you.” Then he smiles cockily. “Well, perhaps pretty, old you with pretty, young me?”

Derek laughs and kisses him tenderly. “I like this combination, kid.” Slowly he pries Spencer’s fingers open and frees himself. Before Spencer can protest the sudden loss, Derek is already joining their erections in his own hand. “Could live like this forever, Spencer.”

Nothing can outlive time, therefore forever isn’t something one can offer. That’s the only truth Spencer has ever known. Until he once again sees Derek’s eye alit with that same emotion from before and understands that perhaps physics hasn’t found all the answers to this one mystery of the universe yet.

Spencer smiles and covers Derek’s hand with his. In unison they start pumping themselves to their release. “I’d like to give forever a try,” Spencer confesses and hides his face on Derek’s shoulder.

“Good, because this is the one thing I’d like to give you most,” is the reply that echoes in his mind.

Then it’s all about incoherent, dirty words of affection and two sweaty bodies converting this extra bounty of energy into something more primeval that burns from the tip of socked toes to the last strand of Spencer’s hair as he kisses and touches Derek’s burning salty skin. Until it happens: the kinetic energy of their bodies in motion reaches its apex, culminating in their own big bang of colors and heat as they explode into their joined hands, Spencer first, Derek seconds behind, and slump in each other’s flushed skins. Spencer knows they are a dirty, sticky, probably disgusting mass of matter pulled apart. But they are also together, and the possibilities of expanding their universe are yet again infinite.

“Wow,” Spencer puffs out, boneless and sweaty against Derek’s shoulder.

“Wow indeed,” Derek agrees out of breath. “Not bad for a guy eight years your senior, huh?”

“Seven years and nine months.”

“Just a technicality.” Derek tucks them back inside their pants and pulls Spencer’s body closer to his. That’s the exact moment Spencer’s stomach chooses to let them both know it has been neglected for far too long.
Derek shakes his head in amusement and pats Spencer’s buttocks, urging him to get up. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you cleaned up and order something to eat. Can’t have you fainting on me because of starvation now, can we?”

“Can it be Italian?”

A soft kiss in his hair. “Whatever you want, baby. Shower first?”

“Not dirty enough. Unless you want to go for seconds first,” Spencer suggests modulating his voice to the wave pattern of energy that Derek’s brain translates as seductive. It works all the time.

“Thought you were hungry?” Derek asks, already getting up in what Spencer believes are shaking legs, but the arms cradling Spencer’s buttocks are firm in their hold.

Spencer wraps arms and legs around Derek’s waist and shoulders and kisses him. “Oh, but I am. I just have my priorities set straight.” Then, touching his lips to Derek’s ears, he whispers: “Take me to bed.”

In Spencer’s mind, Derek triumphs over physics and the laws of nature by moving them to the bedroom faster than the speed of light ever could.

And Spencer holds tight, kisses hard, and doesn't let go.

*****

Thanks for reading.

Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan - And the one time she didn't

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 23:23:21 GMT

Title: Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan... And one time she didn't
Author: Dri
Ratings: PG
Characters/Pairings: Emily/Dave, Morgan/Reid
Spoilers: Through the series
Author's notes: This is it, the last time Emily and Morgan get together to shoot the breeze. Kind of… A special thanks to Moon for the proper Italian translation in this chapter and in the previous one. And of course none of it would have happened without the help of my betas, Ana and Kelly. Girls, thanks for guiding me through this and for the patience. You ladies rock! And thanks guys for joining me on this little journey. I hope you like it.
Feedback: Always a joy!
Disclaimer: They belong to CBS, and I'm not making any money with this fic.

****

First Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/4615.html#cutid1
Second Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/4978.html#cutid1
Third Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/5254.html
The Fourth Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/5821.html#cutid1

And the One Time She Didn't

*****

The One Time She Didn't

The fifth time it happened, the roles had been reversed: it was Emily who had waddled into the room when Morgan was feeding and having a one sided silly conversation with baby Laticia, who in turn was happily answering her daddy with a babble of her own. Morgan and Reid had signed the final papers for the adoption earlier that week, which made the hard earned smile Morgan was wearing totally justified.

So for posterity sake, Emily took a picture of the moment and didn't apologize. Instead she snapped another shot when Morgan shook his head and Laticia blinked her big caramel eyes and waved her hands to the lens.

"Should you be climbing up stairs in your condition? I don't want Rossi blaming Reid and me again if this one comes early, too."

Emily rubbed her large tummy. "Oh, don't go all Supervisory Special Agent on me. It's just pregnancy; I've been through it before."

"There are twenty steps up here; sue me if I worry. And for Christ sake, get in here and sit down."

Seeing that Morgan's concern was for real, Emily conceded and shimmied her way on the armchair placed next to his until she got comfortable in the narrow space. "I'll get stuck here!"

Morgan must have taken pity on her because he smiled and winked at her, but pushed the low stuffed bench he had been using to rest his feet over to her side. "I don't want you to give Rossi any reason to hurt me and make a young widower out of Reid."

Emily laughed. "After all these years you can't still be scared of Dave."

Morgan looked back down at the baby with the same kind of quiet reverence Dave (and most certainly Emily too) had been showering Giggio with for almost five years now. "You're pregnant with his child. He would do anything in his power to make sure his children are okay."

Emily winced and touched the spot where Mateo had just scored another goal against her bladder. Damn, but the kid was restless today. After a deep breath, she found Morgan looking at her with a mix of sympathy and pure panic.

Emily smiled. "Kid has been hyperactive today. I'm fine, really. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You've got the stares."

Morgan laughed softly. "The stares? Is that how you call it at the Prentiss-Rossi's household?"

Another kick; Emily smoothed her belly. "What do you guys call it around here?"

"Reid rambles about constructing themselves or something like this, but most often than not we agree it's just about the wonder our Laticia causes." His smile sobered. "It gives me a better understanding of that guy now; the stepfather."

It took Emily less than a minute to have that memory brought back to her, of a case from the very beginning, one of the first she had worked with the team. It had happened during the Gideon era, before Dave and before they had stumbled over Morgan's secret; before she had gotten beaten up and they had learned about Reid's addiction; before Hotch's divorce or Garcia getting shot or JJ's first kill. Back to a time when for all of them living had been more about instinct and less about emotion.

Emily should have been surprised Morgan had rescued that memory after such a long time, but she wasn't; not after all these years and these shared moments, which had first started that night, when she had held that parentless baby girl in her arms. Emily just smiled softly at him and let him continue because it was okay; it was Morgan.

"After Reid and I signed the final papers for the adoption, I don't know why I thought about him. The man was scum, a dirty bag, but if he went back to that house for this," Morgan squeezed the baby against his chest, "I guess I can finally understand him, even respect him a little. Biologically speaking, Laticia may not be Reid's or mine, but there isn't a single thing in this world we wouldn't do to keep her here with us."

Any real father would, Emily had wanted to say, but it wasn't necessary, not for them. They were parents; they shared that visceral emotion, that driving force to protect and to shelter their children. Too basic and yet too complex to be named, it had been what had moved Reid to do as Dave had done when Giggio was born and step down from the field to assume a teaching position within the BSU, and Morgan to leave the BAU and be in charge of his own team at the Hate Crimes division in the DC office so they could work more regular hours when they had decided to apply for adoption.

And here they were, Emily and Morgan, years later, sitting in a room with white and lilac walls and stuffed bears and pictures of two exhilarated men holding the precious treasure that was their daughter. Emily's own son was playing with his friends out in the backyard under the watchful eyes of his father, and another one was content to play soccer in her womb.

"Morgan, that night, after everything was over, you said maybe that was the kind of change that girl needed."

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, I remember that."

"She would bring that same kind of change to the family who adopted her, too," Emily said smiling gently. "You and Reid, you are awesome for sharing this love you have for each other with Laticia. And this little girl," she caressed the baby's cheek. "She is a very lucky young lady for having you guys changing things for her."

Morgan's bright, grateful warm eyes were all the thanks Emily needed to hear from him. They were also everything Emily had once needed to see in her own mother's eyes. Now older, wiser and a mother herself, Emily could just feel sorry for her mother because it would forever be the Ambassador's loss if she never experienced this kind of bond and joy that Emily now did.

It was what had made Emily, after long conversations with Dave, decide to ask for a two year leave of absence after her maternity leave was up. She wanted to be there for her kids in a more regular basis while they were growing up. She loved her job and wished she could do both, like JJ, but compartmentalizing was not an option when her family was involved.

Laticia got bored and started squirming in Morgan's lap until he put her up against his body and the baby immediately laid her head full of fuzzy braided hair and colored hair clips against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent that was unique to babies, kissing smiles against her cheek. Hormones or not, Emily let a tear fall and smiled.

"As I had told you, Spencer, watching paint dry makes her cry these days."

"It's natural and common because her hormone levels are changing, Rossi. From elation to depression, mood swings are something to be more expected in her third semester. Her changing body shape can disturb her self-image, but in my opinion pregnant women just get to be so f..."

"If you use the 'f' word, I swear to God, Reid, I'll shoot you!"

"Fabulously beautiful," Reid completed, smiling and looking adorable, making Rossi and Morgan laugh while Emily wiped the tears ruining her make up.

At hearing her other daddy's voice, little Laticia didn't stop bouncing in Morgan's lap until he put her on the floor.

"Pa-pa-pa"

Baby Laticia assumed the crawling position and, encouraged by both her daddies, inched twice towards Reid before she lost her balance and fell. She looked confusedly at Reid, pout lips trembling.

"Pa-pa-pa"

"Yeah, it's pa." Reid moved closer, stopping just a few feet from her. "Come on, princess. Let's crawl and let the repetitive movement stimulate your brain activity. This way you can develop cognitive processes such as concentration, memory and comprehension and also..."

By now Rossi and Emily were laughing. The tears wouldn't let Emily be sure, but she was positive Morgan was rolling his eyes.

"Baby, I've already told you a simple 'come to pa' will do." Reid smiled sheepishly at Morgan and wiggled his fingers at their baby girl.

"Pa-pa-pa"

Helped by Morgan, the baby started moving little knees and hands forward again, and this time she reached Reid's legs. He immediately scooped her up in his arms and blew dozens of raspberries on her face. Laticia squealed and Morgan hugged them both from behind, rubbing his symbolic wedding ring against Reid's. Smiling, he rested his chin on Reid's shoulder as Laticia presented her papa with an open mouthed kiss full of drool.

It was twice as hard to shimmy her way out of the chair as it had been to shimmy her way in it, because Emily was crying and Mateo was kicking her bladder, and she wanted to snap another shot before she made her way to the bathroom to pee. Dave's assistance was more than welcome.

"Hey… You guys… tur, turn a little to your left… I want a picture…"

Morgan tenderly directed his family towards the camera and Emily got her picture as Laticia, cajoled by her parents, was blowing z's through her baby teeth.

"Shouldn't… you and Reid work… on profiles or teach recruits… instead of talk… about my hormone problems?" Emily asked, accepting Dave's hug and hiding her face against his shoulder.

"Teacher's lounge gets boring after sometime."

"Just find, find something else to talk about," she hiccupped behind a laugh. "Or I'll have to hurt you both for real."

"Okay," Reid agreed laughing. Then he turned his head to kiss Morgan's cheek. "Mom wants to take pictures of all the kids."

Emily felt her face hot with embarrassment. "Yeah, I came here to get you, but then we started talking and I forgot."

"That's okay, Prentiss. I think by now everybody is used to yours and Morgan's chat sessions," Reid smiled at her. "But, you know, there's a party going on downstairs."

Yes, there was. Morgan and Reid had organized the cookout to celebrate the finalization of the adoption process after a ten month wait, even though Laticia had been living with them since she was a couple of weeks old. Such a blessed child for being watched over by two of the most decent men Emily had ever crossed paths with.

"Pronta a uscire alla luce del sole con me, gioia?"

Emily nodded against Dave's shoulder, the father of her children, the constant source of her strength and joy. Oh, yes; she was ready; she had been born to live this moment. She wasn't fifteen anymore, life was happening downstairs, and it was high time she let Dave take her out into the sunny afternoon.

But Emily needed a bathroom break first.

The backyard in Morgan's and Reid's place was smaller than the one in her house, but it was equally sunny and the kids had enough space to run around and play without disturbing the adults who weren't playing with them or getting too close to the barbecue pit.

Fran Morgan got Laticia from Reid, kissed her granddaughter's happy face, and started directing Desiree and Sara to take the other kids to the other side of the yard, because yeah, the children would look wonderful in that background with the flowerbed. Eventually Emily had to join JJ and Garcia in the organization because the kids were having so much fun playing tag with Kevin or Frisbee with Morgan's brothers-in-law, they didn't want to stop even for a second long enough for Fran to be satisfied with the pictures she got. Tempers were soothed when Desiree and Sarah came out from the kitchen carrying trays of strawberry jelly and ice cream. The meaning wasn't lost on Emily.

Morgan joined Reid and Laticia on a bench near the flowerbed with a cup of the dessert in his hand and the smile Emily had only seen him share with Reid, and now Laticia. Reid welcomed Morgan with a similar smile of his own as Laticia reached out for the jelly.

Laticia had Reid's eyes, Morgan's complexion and she looked so lovely opening her mouth in a big shaped 'o' like Morgan was showing her how to while Reid fed her the sweet treat and probably lectured her on the nutritious value of jelly… The hell with biology! Laticia was theirs.

Emily hid a smile against Dave's shoulder when sometime later it was photo session again and only a stern look from his father made Jack leave the chess match he and Jordan had been engaged in to join Morgan, Reid and Laticia and the rest of the kids on the bench.

"Now you kids go and get your parents," Fran ordered and all the kids scattered around to do as they were told. "I want a beautiful family picture to take back with me to Chicago."

And as a beaming Giggio pulled his mother and father to share the space around the bench with Morgan's sisters, their husbands, as well as JJ and Will, Kevin and Garcia, Hotch and Jordan, and all their children (eight now, counting Morgan's nephew and nieces) being rambunctious and disorganized arranging themselves on the ground, Emily rubbed her round belly and compartmentalized for the last time.

Yes, they were her family. And she would even have a picture to show around.

Giovanni - Varian of John 'God has shown favor'
Mateo - Gift of God
Laticia - Latin for 'Joy'

Thanks for reading.

Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan - The Fourth Time

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 20:30:23 GMT

Title: Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan... And one time she didn’t
Author: Dri
Ratings: PG
Characters: Emily, Morgan, Reid, Dave, JJ, Will
Spoilers: Through the series
Warnings: A bit of fluffy, perhaps; the answer to your questions, I hope ;)
Author’s notes: This fic is finished, going through beta. I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. Also, there would be no fic at all without the help of my betas, who endured my changing of sentences and whole paragraphs without giving up on me. Any remaining mistake is mine because these ladies rock.
Feedback: Always a joy!
Disclaimer: They belong to CBS, and I’m not making any money with this fic.

****
First Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/4615.html#cutid1
Second Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/4978.html#cutid1
Third Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/5254.html

*****

The Fourth Time

The fourth time happened about twenty months later, at Emily and Dave’s and lasted less than five minutes because little Giovanni had just been fed and Emily had to settle him for the night.

Emily and Dave had a nice routine around the house: she didn’t mess with his kitchen, he didn’t mess with her office; she did the laundry, he collected the dry cleaning; they shopped and did the cleaning together. And by the end of the day, be it in bed, in the shower, or any other place inside (or not) the house that could give them enough leverage, Emily did her best to show Dave how precious he was to her. Dave loved the attention and didn’t mind paying it back in kind.

Now they were adjusting their routine around the baby, and there were already moments shared by this little family of hers that Emily would not forget for as long as she lived.

“Fra' Martino campanaro
dormi tu, dormi tu?”

Giggio scrunched his little face and started whimpering, and Emily rushed to kiss his little fingers. “Ti manca il tuo papà, che ti canta la ninna nanna, piccolo mio? Papa is busy with the nice people downstairs. Won’t mamma singing do for tonight, huh? ” she cooed with the kind of love that grew anew every time she talked to, looked at or just thought about her son. Her smile broadened when the little hands stopped fussing and Giggio finally slept. “See? Mamma is not so bad.”

“You should have tried rap, or hip hop. Would have saved you time,” came a voice from the doorway.

Emily looked up and motioned Morgan inside the nursery. For a heartbeat he hesitated, but then he walked inside with soft steps.

“Uncle Morgan will teach you everything about the good stuff, kid: Tupac, Notorious. Bone Thugs… Fifty Cents,” Morgan teased, winking at her.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Hey, I’m the kid’s named guardian. I should have some say in his musical education.”

“You can teach him anything you like about self-defense. Let his other guardian be in charge of his musical upbringing.”

“Reid likes classical,” Morgan replied affronted. The mere mention of his partner’s name, however, added a new sparkle to his eyes.

“You try teaching this kid rap and his papa is going to kill you. And I’ll help Dave get rid of the body.”

Morgan laughed softly. “You’re too much of a good girl to do that.”

Something inside of Emily gentled. Morgan must have sensed it because he looked at her with a different kind of intensity, full of understanding.

“I would at least consider it, Morgan.” She laughed feeling silly and embarrassed, but oh-so-happy. “Jesus, I don’t think there’s a thing in the world I wouldn’t do for my boys.”

Morgan fingered a lock of dark hair in the baby’s head. “I know the feeling. Scaring, huh?”

“Yes,” Emily simply agreed. Reid was a lucky man.

There had been a Morgan/Reid for almost as long as there had been a Rossi/Prentiss. The road her friends had to go through to be together had been bumpier, though.

As weird as it still was to see Morgan being in a committed relationship with anyone, let alone with another man, and Reid being in a relationship at all, neither ever wavered once the awkwardness of it all was gone and they realized what they had was worth fighting for.

And there had been challenges: Morgan’s issues, Reid’s insecurities, and to top all that the kind of job they had. Owning up to their homosexual relationship amidst law enforcement had almost caused Morgan to get transferred to another state and Reid to quit and go with him. At that time, Hotch’s and Dave’s influence as well as their teammates’ professionalism and support had been the glue that had held the team together.

And in the end, to have Morgan and Reid so comfortably sitting close to each other, holding hands and sharing hugs at Garcia and Kevin’s wedding two months ago had been worth the entire headache they had faced in the beginning. Emily was sure the kiss she had witnessed at the reception, when Morgan and Reid thought nobody was looking, was what had set her off into early labor.

“You and Rossi did well choosing JJ and Hotch to be the kid’s godparents.”

“You and Reid were the right choices to be his guardians, too,” Emily said, brought back to the moment. “And I know Garcia will find her own way to be special to him.” Emily smiled. “In fact, Garcia will be a handful once baby Bruno makes his appearance into this world.”

Morgan scrunched his nose, but the smile was still there. “I can’t believe that Kevin boy touched my girl. If he hadn’t made an honest woman out of her…”

“I’ve always thought Garcia was the deviant one in this story,” Emily corrected him, good-humored. “Speaking of which, when are you going to make an honest man out of Reid?”

Morgan’s smile faded a little. “I asked him to move in. He hasn’t answered yet.”

Morgan enveloped the hand she had reached out to him with both of his, her engagement ring digging in his palm. “Have no fear, Derek; he’ll say yes.” Morgan nodded, squeezed her hand one last time and let go.

There was hushed conversation coming from down the corridor, and Emily looked up to see the small committee headed by JJ and a reluctant Will followed by Dave and Reid coming to the nursery.

“We came up to say goodnight; we have to go and relieve the sitter,” JJ whispered from the doorway. Will’s hand on her shoulders was certainly the only thing keeping her from coming into the room. Dave stepped around the couple and waved his hand, inviting everybody inside.

“Where are Hotch and Jordan?” Emily asked Dave.

“They already left.” Dave perched himself on the arm of the chair Emily and their baby were sharing. “You were supposed to just check if Emily had the bambino settled for the night, Derek,” he scolded Morgan smiling playfully.

“Emily and I were making arrangements for the kid’s first lesson in rap, man.”

Emily moved sideways and very carefully handed Dave their son. “Over my dead body,” Dave replied, his eyes now on the sleeping baby in his arms.

“That can be arranged. I’ll even help him get rid of your body,” Reid said, hugging Morgan from behind. Since the announcement of her pregnancy those hugs had gone from a claim of ownership to a natural display of affection, which pleased Emily immensely; Reid’s wariness towards her was finally gone.

Morgan shared a secret smile with Emily before turning his head to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

JJ, who by now had pulled Will closer to the group, was looking at Giggio with a restrained longing all too familiar to Emily. “Do you remember when Henry was this small?” JJ asked Will, resting her head on his shoulder. Will hugged her around the waist and kissed her hair as JJ covered the hand he had placed on her belly with hers.

It saddened Emily to see Morgan, with his arms covering Reid’s, and Reid, with his chin resting on Morgan’s shoulder, sharing the same longing with a lot less hope.

****
to be concluded next time

Four Times Emily held a child in front of Morgan - The Third Time

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 16:10:28 GMT

Title: Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan... And one time she didn't
Author: Dri
Ratings: PG
Characters: Emily, Morgan, Reid, JJ, Rossi, Baby Henry ( and a little bit of jelly - people, have faith )
Spoilers: Through the series
Warnings: A bit of angst
Author's notes: This fic is finished, going through beta. I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. Also, there would be no fic at all without the help of my betas, who endured my changing of sentences and whole paragraphs without giving up on me. Any remaining mistake is mine because these ladies rock.
Disclaimer: They belong to CBS, and I'm not making any money with this fic.

****
First Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/1373.html
Second Time is here - http://dri-br.livejournal.com/2189.html
Third Time is here

****

The Third Time

As fate would have it, Henry had been there to keep them company during their third time. Sitting in his mother’s lap and dressed in blue and smiles, Henry had been more interested in drooling over the bright paper wrapping his presents than in all the adults and kids around cooing him to open them.

The concept of family was kind of a novelty to Emily, but she had managed not to be so surprised to learn the team - herself included – had been invited by JJ and Will to join their immediate family to share chocolate cake and finger food in celebration of Henry’s first birthday.

The party was winding down when Emily and Garcia took the baby upstairs for a fresh diaper. They chatted away until Kevin called his girlfriend back downstairs so they could say their goodbyes and leave. Emily should have done the same. It was getting late, and Dave probably wanted to leave. Since they had carpooled, she really should look for him.

Instead Emily found herself with Henry in the nursery, the baby in her lap in the rocking chair, pointing out the pictures on the wall and kissing the fingers sprawled on her cheek. All Emily had wanted was a quiet moment. Instead she found herself almost regretting her past decisions. Having Henry in her arms, beautiful and happy and alive, made her dare herself to dream. She didn’t do the ‘what if’ game well. She had her two feet planted on the ground and a good head full of compartmentalized moments on her shoulders. She had schooled herself this way. She could keep going for a little longer.

Still, having Henry’s fine blond hair tucked under her chin and a little thumb between the round rosy lips made it so hard.

A shadow fell over them, and Emily looked up at the entryway. Morgan was standing there, watching over them with a smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Morgan approached them slowly, the rug on the floor muffling his steps. He reached over and ruffled the baby’s hair. Henry blinked sleepy eyes at him and stretched his arms to get the bottle Morgan was holding before him.

“Hungry, kid?” Morgan asked, smiling at the baby.

“I guess he’s about ready to sleep,” Emily said, getting ready to leave the room and the memories that didn’t exist. “Perhaps I should hand him back to JJ.”

Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder. “She sent me here to give you this. I guess she agrees the little one’s had enough excitement for the day.”

Emily sat back, accepting the bottle Morgan was handing her.

“You’ve been here for some time.”

“Dreaming, thinking,” Emily replied, resuming the rocking motion and fighting back a rueful smile as Henry suckled on the bottle.

“This could be dangerous,” Morgan said, squatting in front of her, a hand on her knee. “You looked distant, far from here. Everything okay?”

Six months ago, when Emily, Morgan and Henry had shared a moment like this one, life had been good. Reid hadn’t had another close call, almost driving Morgan to insanity. They hadn’t almost lost Hotch. Emily and Morgan had been younger and prettier. Her biological clock had been quieter.

“How come we managed to get invited to a kid’s birthday party when five of us have no kids at all?”

Morgan looked as if he didn’t know whether to take her question seriously or not. In fact, Emily wasn’t so sure of what she had asked, or vented, whatever.

“Did you see how big that cake was?” In her silence, Morgan must have noticed she was serious. He tried again. “I like to believe JJ sees us as family. We watch each other’s back, Prentiss. Most of our time is spent together.”

“I know,” Emily said, frustrated because Morgan wouldn’t understand.

“So what’s troubling you, Emily?”

Deep inside Emily resented Morgan and this need he had of being there for all of them, his adopted family in this home away from home. For a second Emily hated him for making her feel compelled to talk and tell him everything, to acknowledge the hand on her knee for what it really was.

Talk to me. I’m begging you here to let me in, to let me help.

Damn that man!

“I’m afraid Henry and Jack will be the only children we’ll have in this little family.”

“You mean you don’t believe any of us will ever get around to having a family of our own?”

Embarrassed Emily nodded and let herself feed Henry. That much she could do.

“Prentiss, I know sometimes the job gets in the way and all, but…”

“Sometimes?” Emily snorted, jostling Henry who let out a little whimper in protest. She took a deep breath and started again, ignoring Morgan’s visible concern with her reaction. “No. I mean, seriously, Morgan. For Christ sake, take a good look at us. Dave has been married three times and Hotch never gets to see his own son. You never get to date the same woman more than twice, and Reid never dates at all. Garcia and JJ aside, I don’t see any of us driving a minivan to any football game or school recital.”

Feeling a little drained, she lowered her eyes back to Henry. He was so beautiful, his reality such a blessing not only to JJ, but to all of them. Emily wanted that, a general someday kind of thing. Only the new concepts of someday, future and family Emily was starting to believe in didn’t mash with the ones she had grown up with. Emily wished she could blame the job and the crazy people out there who didn’t give her time to take a break and live, but hell if she could lie to herself, if only for a little bit.

Reality was sweet Henry, who grounded her with his warmth and eyes so sleepy, trusting Emily to watch over his dreams. And then there was Morgan and his hand on her knee, so clearly listening to her as friend and ignoring all the signs she must have shown for the last few minutes or so.

“What about you, Emily?”

This was the one question Emily should have dreaded from the beginning of their conversation. Yet it was with relief that she pondered the words. And as she answered him it felt like another penny had been dropped in payment for her penitence and that, given time, would lead to the absolution she was so in need of giving herself.

“I could very well have been a grandmother by now.”

There was confusion, then clarity, and finally acceptance in the small gesture of Morgan squeezing the knee under his hand. She smiled in gratitude.

“Anyone else knows?”

“Dave.”

In silence they waited for Henry to finish his bottle.

“I saw my dad die,” Morgan said. “I want to have kids, try to be half the man my dad was, you know.”

“I want to be the mother mine never was.”

“Too bad we never got around that back up plan, huh?”

The intensity in Morgan’s eyes was so unsettling it kept her from smiling at what she had supposed had been meant to be a joke.

She followed the movement of his hand as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She saw him move his body up for balance and to have his eyes almost in the same level as hers.

“Perhaps it’s not too late,” Morgan said softly.

Her world had been reduced to the baby dozing in her lap and this beautiful man’s eyes locked with hers, his finger tracing her cheekbone, soft breath soothing the burning of its aftermath, his lips getting closer to hers.

Please, Morgan; don’t do this.

“Emily…”

His whisper and the moment were broken by the sound of glass crashing onto the floor and startling them both. Emily and Morgan turned their stare to the door, from where a very pale Reid regarded them.

“Reid?”

There was so much angst setting Reid’s lips in a straight line, so much despair pouring from his eyes, it was impossible for Emily not to understand why Reid seemed to be so out of breath, immersed in the misery she and Morgan had inadvertently created and that Emily had no business naming.

And it wasn’t directed at her.

“Reid?”

But Morgan hadn’t understood.

Reid blinked his eyes once, twice, until Emily lost count because once again Reid had knocked her off balance. She and Morgan had just about destroyed any dreams Reid might have had for a future he had mostly certainly wanted to share with Morgan.

And before Emily could warn Morgan, tell him about all those times he probably shouldn’t have stood so close to Reid, the times he should have avoided all those one armed hugs and invitations for after work drinks or dinner, sometimes with the whole team, more often than not just the two of them, Morgan had already bolted to the door. Before she could assure Reid that she wasn’t Morgan’s happy ending, and that nothing would ever happen between them, let alone the family they someday wanted to have, only not together, Morgan was already supporting the man who was silently begging Morgan to deny what he had almost witnessed.

“Reid, what’s it? Talk to me, kid,” Morgan pleaded, tilting Reid’s quivering chin to better look at his face. “You okay?”

But Reid had turned his eyes back on Emily, killing her a little every time his lips moved without forming any word. It was aphasia all over again; this one with hers and Morgan’s name all over it.

“Reid?”

“I… JJ…”Reid shook his head and looked down at the mess made of broken glass and something red on the floor. The quivering intensified, but he somehow found the strength to start again. “There is jelly… Strawberry… JJ made it for me. You ate mine… in the hospital. I thought… I had hoped this time you…” His chest heaved, next breath caught somewhere between a blink of eye and another. “I waited too long,” Reid finally mourned in a whisper.

Morgan had grown more and more perplexed with every bit of broken confession Reid poured out to him, to the point of him slowly freeing Reid from the one arm Morgan had used to comfort Reid until what he was listening had probably become too much. Morgan had really had no clue.

Reid stepped away from Morgan as if he had been slapped by Morgan’s reaction, as if Morgan’s new lack of contact, Morgan’s new lack of proximity hurt too much. By God Emily knew how much this being too close-to-be-touched, too far-to-be-loved hurt.

“God, I’m so stupid,” Reid said, offering Emily and Morgan the shadow of a pathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, Reid.” Emily wished life had taught her how to deliver the truth as a way of comfort, not as a simple matter of facts, but it hadn’t. All she could offer Reid was the truth for what it was and hope he believed her. “You didn’t interrupt anything. We were just talking. Nothing hap…” But Reid was already shaking his head.

“Don’t. Please, don’t,” Reid cut her off using the same softness they had heard in his apology. “I’ll… I’ll ask Rossi to drive me home.”

“No! Reid, don’t be ridiculous. You came with me; you’re coming back with me.” By the time Morgan desperately stepped up to take charge, Reid had been a flash of beige and gray rushing down the stairs. “Come on, Reid! Reid! Come back here! We gotta talk, man! Reid!”

Only a door closing downstairs and rushed voices answered them.

Morgan sagged against the doorframe. Emily only realized she had stood up with Henry asleep against her shoulder when she touched Morgan on the face.

“God, what have I done? I didn’t know. I swear to God I had no idea.”

“Morgan…”

“How can he dump this one on me and just leave? Who the hell does he think he is?”
“Morgan, you have to calm down.”

“Calm down? How can I calm down when he’s out there hurting because I was too blind to see that he was… Not gonna happen.” Morgan was almost shouting. Henry was stirring with little whimpers and Emily patted his back to quiet him down.

“Morgan, Emily, what happened?” JJ rushing down the corridor with Dave close on her heels saved Morgan from being slapped back into his senses. “Why is Reid so upset? I think he was crying.”

“God, Reid.” Morgan closed his eyes. JJ’s little statement defused the ticking bomb Morgan had become. “He’s gone?”

“He’s outside. Aaron’s taking him home,” Dave answered, his eyes on Emily. “What happened here?”

“I have to talk to him. I…” Morgan patted his pockets until he found his car keys. Then he looked down and saw the jelly on the floor. The pain in his eyes matched Reid’s. “JJ, I need a mop.”

JJ and Dave exchanged a knowing look. Emily raised her eyes to heaven. “Men,” she muttered to herself. Damage control was definitely in her hands. Typical male or not, there was just so much stupidity Emily could take.

“No,” Emily said, handing Henry to his mother. “You go after him, Derek. Make sure he’s alright.”

“But how can I fix this?” Emily had never seen Morgan so lost.

JJ looked from Morgan to Emily then to Dave, who just shrugged and started picking up the pieces of broken glass.

“I’ll take Henry downstairs to say goodnight,” JJ announced. Never mind Henry was back to sleep. “You guys gonna be alright?”

“Of course,” Dave replied. “It’s just a little mess. Nothing we can’t handle.”

As JJ left, Emily touched Morgan’s face, smoothed the drawn lines in his forehead, and smiled goodbye to something that could have been beautiful, but, given the circumstances, utterly wrong.

“Make him believe he has nothing to worry about.”

Morgan looked confused, embarrassed and still totally at a loss. “I’m not so sure of what I’m supposed to tell him, Emily.”

Emily shoved Morgan out the door. “Go after him. No matter what you say, be gentle with him. You and I both know he’s worth it.” Morgan hesitated. “What are you waiting for? Go,” she shoved him again. “And call me later to tell me how it went.”

Morgan took one, then two steps backwards until he was running down the stairs.

When Emily approached Dave to help with the cleaning up, she favored him with perhaps the first real smile she had managed to form since her chaotic little meeting with Morgan had started.

Dave shook his head.

“Anything you would like to share, Emily?”

Considering Morgan’s lack of repulsion to Reid’s confession, Emily was positive Morgan wasn’t going to need a back up plan anymore. He most certainly would need a surrogate instead.

“But of course, Dave. Only I won’t.” She spooned a large portion of jelly and held it out for Dave. “I could do with some buzz, though. You’re paying.”

****

Continue in the fourth time

Four times Emily held a baby in front of Morgan - The Second Time

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 22:47:33 GMT

Title: Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan... And one time she didn’t
Author: Dri
Ratings: PG
Characters: Emily, Morgan, Reid, Baby Henry
Spoilers: Is baby Henry a spoiler?
Warnings: A bit of fluffy, perhaps
Author’s notes: This fic is finished, going through beta. I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. Also, there would be no fic at all without the help of my betas, who endured my changing of sentences and whole paragraphs without giving up on me. Any remaining mistake is mine because these ladies rock.
Disclaimer: They belong to CBS, and I’m not making any money with this fic.Four times Emily hold a child in front of Morgan

*****

The Second Time

The second time Emily and Derek comforted a child, well, the child wasn’t necessarily in need of comfort. Emily and Derek just happened to be there.

Emily and little Henry were sitting in the patio, enjoying the warm sun and the quietness outside, away from the voices and laughter coming from the christening party inside JJ and Will’s house. Emily rasp-berried the baby’s face and he gurgled in delight, getting fistfuls of Emily’s hair and trying to chew on it.

Little Henry was six months old, weighing what seemed to be a ton and with the behavior of an angel. Something JJ rushed to deny; yes her baby boy had his moments. The sparkle in her eyes and pride in her voice told Emily a different story, though.

The few times Emily had accepted the invitation for a visit, little Henry had behaved to perfection, fussing very little and only crying to announce he was hungry or needed changing.

That morning at the church, Henry had proved his mother right by constantly reaching for the candle Reid was holding by his head, or babbling in Garcia’s arms right along with the priest during his christening, going for the droplets of water the priest was pouring over his head.

Emily had loved every single moment of it.

And those baby smiles.

Little Henry also had this bright toothless smile that was a gift reserved only for JJ and JJ alone. Will had reason to feel a little put out, even if he were a good sport about it. He was the father, after all.

Emily was the one who had no business being jealous. However, she just couldn’t help it. She wished for nothing JJ had. Her friend deserved to be happy and well loved like only mothers could be.

And JJ was a mother. Emily wasn’t.

Emily just wished someday she would be the one in the receiving end of toothless smiles and unconditional love. She vowed she would never let this little proofs of love go wasted, like her mother had. Those were feelings Emily was starting to understand. Something she wasn’t so sure her mother ever had.

“Hey, little man. There you are.”

Morgan was carrying a bottle and wearing the smile that rivaled the sunlight and that in the beginning had caused Emily’s stomach to flip.

Crouching in front of Emily’s chair, Morgan shook the bottle in front of the baby, who reached out with chubby hands to get it. Morgan laughed and let Henry get his finger instead.

“Can you keep your eyes away from this beautiful lady for a few minutes? Your mama wants you to have this bottle,” Morgan said, fingering the baby’s round nose. Henry squealed.

“Shut up, Morgan.” Emily said, blushing even if she knew Morgan meant no harm with the compliment. She had come to accept the flirting as part of Morgan’s good nature. “He’s too little to be exposed to your pick up lines.”

Morgan laughed and handed her the bottle. “Wouldn’t have worked anyway. You’re too smart to fall for lame pick up lines.”

“Yeah, and maybe that’s why I’m single and just about ready to become a spinster.”

The hint of frustration lacing what was meant to be a joke surprised Emily and made Morgan’s smile falter a bit.

“Easy, Prentiss. I’m about ready to become a spinster myself.” Emily snorted at the joke. “It’s true. Just ask my mamma.”

“Does she know about those many bed notches out there with your name on them?”

Morgan had a beautiful belly laugh, contagious. Soon Emily was joining him, and for some time along with Henry’s suckling and cooing, it was the sound backing their light banter.

“You know, we’re too young and too pretty to be turning ourselves into spinsters,” Morgan said, grinning.

“Perhaps we should find ourselves backups,” she said good-naturally. “You know, just in case.”

“Yeah, just in case,” Morgan replied with a playful smile as little Henry played with his finger. “A back up plan sounds nice. Not that we will ever need a backup,” he rushed to add.

Emily laughed. “Never! We’re too good looking for that.”

Morgan laughed too, and that’s how Reid, hands tucked in his pockets and lips stretched in a thin line found them a few minutes later.

“JJ is calling everybody to eat cake.”

“Thanks, pretty boy. We’ll be right back in,” Morgan said, smiling at their friend.

There were traces of curiosity in Reid’s semblance, his eyes flipping from Morgan to Emily, brain without a doubt working a mile a minute. After a few seconds too long, he tucked his hair behind his ear, favored them with an awkward smile, and went back to the house.

Baby Henry and Morgan were having a thumb match and having the time of their lives.

Emily grinned.

*****
Continue in the third time

Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 22:37:32 GMT

Title: Four times Emily held a child in front of Morgan
Author: Dri
Ratings: PG
Characters/Pairings: In this chapter Emily/Morgan friendship
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Perhaps a little angst; Emily pov
Author's notes: This fic is finished, going through beta. I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. Also, there would be no fic at all without the help of my betas, who endured my changing of sentences and whole paragraphs without giving up on me. Any remaining mistake is mine because these ladies rock.
Disclaimer: They belong to CBS, and I'm not making any money with this fic.
Feedback: Would be lovely
****
The First Time

Emily had still been on probation at the BAU the first time she and Derek had joined forces to comfort a child.

The shooting happened because the stepfather the BAU had been after, a murderer on the run, wouldn't drop the gun pointed at the junkie mother, whose motherly instinct had finally kicked in, stoned state and all, and she had tried to protect her child. The mother took the bullet, but stepfather didn't take the child.

Emily tightened her arms around the baby girl, pressing the child's head to her shoulder, upper body slightly swaying back and forth in hopes of soothing the whimpering child. Emily focused on the faint wisps of breath ghosting her neck to ignore the pattern of blue and red lights twirling through the broken glass of the mirror in front of her.

The room was in shambles, the air stale and stinking of urine and other elements that had no place around a newborn; things like death and blood and a motherless upbringing. Versed in the later, Emily covered the little girl's ears, a futile attempt of keeping away the sirens and the sounds of violence from where they were never meant to be.

Soles crunching broken glass made Emily look up to the broken mirror. Agent Morgan was coming into the room, earpiece and Kevlar vest on, gun drawn even if danger was no longer imminent: he had made sure of that, shooting the stepfather dead, putting an end to the family that should have never been.
Agent Morgan offered Emily a brief nod before holstering his gun and approaching the sorry excuse for an armchair Emily and the baby were sharing.

"How is she?"

Filthy, underweight, traumatized.

"In desperate need of a change."

More than a diaper and Emily's protection could provide. They should have been able to have done more. The baby, any baby, was worthy of more.

Lips stretched into a wan and understanding smile, Agent Morgan squatted down in front of Emily, large fingers charting the wisps of hair covering the child's forehead. "Perhaps that's what this ordeal was supposed to bring."

"What do you mean?"

Agent Morgan looked around, as if presenting evidence A, B and C in the stained walls, leaking ceiling and broken furniture of the unkempt house. Finally he landed open eyes and the certainty that everything would be okay directly at Emily. "Some change."

"But that's just the beginning, isn't it?" Emily whispered at the now sleeping child. Even in sleep the bony and dirty little fingers didn't let go of Emily's blue issued FBI jacket. "Child Service, a warden of the state, foster parents. No child should go through this."

The stepfather was a murderer on the run, but he had wanted his daughter the same time the mother decided her child was too precious to live in constant danger with the stepfather.

In the end both parents had done their best to shield their child. It was more than Emily ever had while growing up.

"And maybe through all this they will find her some loving family, a real home," Agent Morgan said.

His serenity startled Emily. She was getting used to him, to everyone on the team. Impressive was the word she had used to tag and compartmentalize Agent Morgan. He was an impressive man. Once in action, everything about him - his height, his attitude, his dedication - was tangible proof that he was the man who would acknowledge no peril if there was a job to be done or someone to be protected. Without the danger lurking around, the fierceness would still be there, only more tamed and coated with a different kind of caring, of compassion.

Emily smiled down at the sleeping baby, allowing Agent Morgan to believe for the both of them and for the child.

Three successive knocks on wood made Emily look up to the mirror to find Agent Reid awkwardly staring back at them from the doorway.
"Child Service is here," he said sounding more like he was offering an apology than following protocol to inform them Baby Girl was one step from facing the rest of her life.

"Thanks, kid," Agent Morgan said, standing up. "Could you flag them here?" Agent Reid quickly nodded in knowledge and left, without a doubt to do what he was asked.

"I'll tell them to bring some diapers," Agent Morgan said, fingers squeezing her shoulder before he left. Emily wasn't in need of the support, but she appreciated the gesture.

This child was going to have the second chance Emily never got to have, the chance she herself once was obliged to deny.

But this baby could take comfort in the almost forgotten lullaby Emily had longed to have her own mother humming when Emily was a child.

Sing Emily did, thumbing smooth cheeks stained with dried tears. She was not the child's mother, but she would have to do. Until Child Service got into the room, she would have to do.

Continue in Part 2

Meet the Dads Part 2: Mr. Justin Taylor

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 19:03:25 GMT

Again, thanks Sam for your priceless help.

******

Part 2. Disclaimer and everything else in Part 1.

"There's my boy!"

Like Gus had predicted, his Pops was already waiting for them at the
door
to his and his "spouse-in-a-non-conventional-way's house.

Or rather, Trisha blinked, trying really hard to keep her awe in check,
mansion.

Mr. Taylor crushed his son, who was taller than him by at least a foot,
in a tight hug and welcomed Trisha with a kiss on the cheek, a blinding
smile and a blurted but no less sincere, "Aren't you adorable?"

Gay or not, with those blue eyes and the warmth behind them, Trisha
would
be anything he wanted! He was all the beauty and smiles Trisha had seen
in pictures plus a charm that was captivating and his own. God bless
Gus
for having had his arm around her shoulders, otherwise his Pop's feet
would be immersed in Trisha!goo.

After greetings were over, Mr. Taylor led them through many doors and
rooms - filled with enough furniture to finance the vacation in Europe
she and Gus were dreaming of taking - to a huge and expensively well
equipped kitchen.

Good chef that he was, Gus got busy chopping vegetables and boiling
water
while sipping a beer and catching up with his Pops, who graced Gus with
furtive glances between strokes of pencil over the pad in his hands.
Trisha was content just sipping French mineral water and listening to
them, sitting at the counter beside Mr. Taylor and talking only when
talked to, which Mr. Taylor did quite often.

"So what's Gus like as a customer?"

"A bitch, Mr. Taylor. Always asking for a discount on the zucchinis."

Mr. Taylor shook his head and sighed. "A Cheap bitch. Just like his
father at his age. And please, it's Justin."

"She makes me water the damn things on the weekends, Pops," Gus
protested
from the stove. "Sometimes I even have to harvest them."

"You haven't done that in a while," Trisha rushed to say, terrified Mr.
Taylor would misjudge her because a "poor-me" Gus could be quite
convincing.

Hell, it had almost cost her the price of her zucchinis!

"Because I got wiser. Now we just stay at the apartment instead of
going
to the zucchini patch from hell. No fucking zucchinis to water, harvest
or whatever else the fuck."

Trisha was mortified.

Tongue between teeth, Gus had blown the F word at her. Twice.

From the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Taylor doing nothing to hide his
amusement.

Perhaps shoving her boyfriend's face in the concoction he was stirring
on
the stove to make him feel the hotness she was feeling could be
considered a domestic accident?

"Your father never minded harvesting the fucking zucchinis when he was
your age. In fact, he was all for the hunt," Mr. Taylor said, his words
wrapped in twisted longing and with no discomfort at all.

"Come on, Pops. Legend has it that zucchinis of all shapes and sizes
were
all over Dad all the time. He didn't have to go after them."

"Oh, he did. Once or twice he did."

"How can you be so sure? You didn't even know Dad when he was twenty-
seven."

"Your point being...?"

"Nothing." Beer in hand, Gus joined them at the counter. "Just that you
didn't know him then."

"Your Grandma Debbie knew him. And Michael, and your mothers, and
Emmett,
and..."

"Okay, Pops. You got me at Grandma Debbie," Gus said, raising his hands
in surrender. "And Mamma had associated Dad with sluts every now and
then."

"Mel? Only every now and then? Be serious."

"Okay, so quite regularly." Gus laughed. "When I was eight or nine I
squared up to her because I had learned slut was a word for women, and
my
Dad was a man. I think she might have been tongue in cheek when she
agreed with me and said consensus was Dad was the best man around."

After a second or two, index finger drumming against his cheek and an
occasional sip of his beer, Gus mused, "He couldn't have been that bad.
You've put up with him for over twenty years." Then, pensive he asked,
"Was he that bad?"

"That bad? No, not at all. He was, is, that GOOD."

It took Gus another second or two to understand Mr. Taylor's not so
subtle implication and all mischievous smile.

"Jesus, Pops! You're my dad! You can't talk about your husband, who
happens to be MY dad, this way. It's... Jesus!"

"I beg your pardon, Son."

"That's it. Son. I'm your son, and dads do not talk about their sex
lives
with their kids."

"Who's talking about sex? And you're hardly a kid anymore."

"I'll never be old enough to... Jesus! Just don't, Pops. Poor Sean. You
don't do this to the kid, do you?"

Pops laughed and walked to his son, who by now had put the counter and
the stove between them, and hugged him. "Sure do, kiddo. You and Sean
are
cute. Your brother actually... Trisha? Everything okay?"

Cough! Cough!

"Raise your arms, Sweetheart. And stop laughing. This is not funny and
you're not helping.

She wished she could, but her eyes were smarting and her throat was
burning and her was body shaking. And damn the water that was coming
out
through her nose because it had gone through the wrong pipe and damn
Gus
and his Pops for being so cute together.

When she finally got the coughing fit under control, she was on her
toes
with her face buried in Gus' shoulder and Mr. Taylor was handing her
another glass of water.

"You okay?" Gus asked, running his fingers in her hair, drying the
tears
on her face.

She smiled, her breathing and raspy voice still not back to normal.
"Sorry. I'm okay now."

"Can I let you go now?"

"No. I'm fine here." Gus kissed her forehead and she tightened her arms
around his neck. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor."

"It's Justin. And don't worry about it." Putting the glass of water
back
on the counter, he patted his son's back. "No more talking about sex,
son."

"Thank God. Besides I didn't drive Trisha here to hear about yours and
dad's sexual adventures."

Mr. Taylor looked a little embarrassed. Trisha just wanted to make him
feel better.

Really.

"Oh, but I wouldn't mind..."

And when Gus started his own coughing fit and Mr. Taylor burst out
laughing, Trisha realized she had just put both of her feet in her
mouth.

Putting together the shreds of her dignity, she asked Gus where the
bathroom was. With a killer gaze he pointed her in the right direction.
She scurried there, but still heard Mr. Taylor - Justin - reinforce his
theory that she was adorable.

Trisha splashed water on her face, cussed and admonished herself in the
mirror, and waited until embarrassment was no longer making her face
burn
too much.

Back to the kitchen, the scene that greeted her gave her the eerie idea
that Bri-Tin had somehow shrunk, leaving only enough room to
accommodate
Gus and Mr. - Justin.

Mr. Kinney and his twisted smirk had just arrived and taken whatever
empty spaces in the house with them.

*****

End Part 2. Continue in Part 3.

New Fic: Meet the Dads - Part 1

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 00:20:54 GMT

Title: Meet the Dads - Part 1
Author: Dri
Pairing: Brian/Justin, Gus/OF Character
Characters: The Family + 2
Rating: R for language
Category: Future fic. Humor, tiny bit of angst at times. Third person (
OF character ) POV
Summary: "Where did we go wrong, Sunshine? A son is a lesbian, the other
one is a whore for pussy, a niece failing miserably at being a dyke..."
Disclaimer: Except for Trisha and Sean, they all belong to a certain Cow.

Author's note: Thanks, Sam, for rescuing and providing this first time
author in this fandom with your beta skills. So all the mistakes are mine
because sometimes I'm too stubborn to listen to whom I should. *g*

*****
Meet the Dads - Part 1

Trisha was sure that some time between counting the vegetable crates her
company was delivering to Leguma (Gus' organic restaurant in New York)
two days prior and the amazing sex she and Gus had had this morning, he
had explained yet again why they were driving all the way to Pittsburgh
for a visit with his parents - or rather his dads. But whenever Gus
started with the Sunshines and Daddies and Pops and (God forgive him) one
or two Sluts and Whores, she knew she would be more successful at
understanding the dynamics of the zucchinis lying in the crates in the
trucks.

Very early in their relationship Gus had tried to tell her that in order
to talk about grandmas and grandpas, uncles and aunts, and brothers and
sisters that were but weren't and would fight tooth and nail to prove
they were he would need graphics and diagrams and DNA proofs. He had been
painting her toenails then and it had taken him ten seconds of silence to
notice her staring at him mouth agape. He just shrugged and started
talking while the nail polish made her toes pearl colored. By the time
her fingernails were pearl colored too, she asked him to get out his
photo album and start over. Trisha had thought she had understood every
little bit of everything, but with Gus' family there was always something
new happening. Still, they were all the same.

The explanation could wait another couple of hours until they got to Bri-
Tin, but then Gus started to sing and she could only take so much of his
singing around their apartment. And if she told him anything - no matter
how nicely she did - he would just sing louder.

Seducing him was much more effective.

Talking was second best.

"Why are we celebrating your dad's forty-fifth birthday again?"

Gus pushed his glasses up his head and she promptly put them back in
place.

"I love this song."

"Huh?"

"You do this all the time. I start to sing and you want to talk. Or have
sex."

"That's not true."

Gus moved his tongue inside his mouth and waited.

Yes, there was sex, of course. What could she do if annoyed and cursing
Gus was adorable and gorgeous and all hers to do as she pleased? Most of
the times, anyway.

Knowing he had gotten her in her lie, Gus smirked, batted his
pornographic blue eyes at her and reached for the MP3 player. She was
faster and forwarded to the next song.

"What the fuck, Trisha?!"

Thank God he was also easy. Fluttering fingers on the shell of his ears,
any of them, any given time, and he was as gone as an ice cube under the
sun.

"It's Pops'," he said in that tone that announced that he had lost the
battle, not the war.

He wished!

"I know it's Mr. Taylor's. I just thought you considered the two of them
your dads."

He smiled and everything in him grew softer.

"Of course I do. And Pops is something you'll only understand when you
meet him."

Trisha kind of understood her boyfriend. Each of the few times she had
talked to his Pops on the phone, she got a whole new concept of
"Sunshine".

"Anyway, they had a dinner celebration on Pops' birthday. It was last
Tuesday."

"I know. I answered the phone when he called to thank us for the gift,
remember?"

"Just the grannies, grandpas - if you can call Tucker grandpa - and
uncles for dinner. Grandma Debbie said she would curse him from her grave
if he didn't show up at her house," Gus continued as if he hadn't been
interrupted at all.

He did it from time to time when he decided a commentary or note was not
worthy of his attention. She overlooked this bad behavior because he was
such a gentleman in so many other aspects that in the beginning, given
his background and good looks, she was convinced he was a gay man trying
not to be.

"Pops loves Grandma Debbie and Dad loves Pops and fears Grandma, so Dad
made sure both of them showed up at her house at 7:00 looking fan-
fucking-tastic."

They shared another laugh, his more affectionate than hers, like he did
whenever he talked about his fathers.

"Tomorrow will only be the youth and the babies, as Dad put it."

Trisha couldn't help but smile while still tending to his ear.

"If you don't want me to pull over and make us even later, you'd better
stop doing that, sweetheart."

She paid him no attention.

"Of course, neither Dad nor Pops would mind. However we'd have to tell
them, and the Dads love details. No problems there because you know how
accurate I can be..."

"OKAY! See? Hands in the air! No hands!"

Gus smirked and Trisha wondered why she cared.

"So if we're the babies, who are the youth?"

Gus checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes.

"You're aware that if Dad catches you talking like this, you'll be put on
his witches' list, right?"

Trisha zipped her lips and threw the imaginary keys away through the
rolled up window. She didn't want to piss off Mr. Kinney. She was
constantly both in awe and scared shitless of the man. Right now being
scared shitless was winning hands down.

"Will you relax?" Gus said, for a moment squeezing her left hand with his
right one. "Dad is a pussycat. Either hold your ground with him or show
awe in the first fifteen minutes you are face to face and you'll be good.
If neither works, do your best to fall in Pops' good grace. Believe me,
it's not hard. Whatever happens first, you'll get almost anything from
Dad later."

She relaxed a little. "That's what life with Daddy taught you?"

"No. That's what I learned when I stopped being a teen and started paying
attention to Sean."

Whenever Gus talked about the first five years of his life as a big
brother to Sean, he got this shadow that made him look twenty-five years
older with regret. There hadn't been problems because Sean was black. Gus
had sworn it over the last joint they were sharing the first time they
had discussed Sean's name in a more profound way.

Of course they had both been way too high to make sense, and the swearing
could have gone both ways. But Trisha trusted her boyfriend. Gus didn't
lie. Besides he wouldn't be with her if being black was a problem.

Gus restarted once again like there had not been any interruptions at
all, and Trisha let him because she knew he needed it.

"But if you want the list, Dad and my mothers, uncles Michael and Ben,
Ted and Blake, Emmett and his new significant other, and probably Cynthia
and her husband are the youths. Sean, JR and her beau, moi and ma belle
(she rolled her eyes), Hunter and his wife, Aunt Molly and Uncle Keith,
and very much possibly Aunt Daphne and Uncle Charlie and, of course,
Pops, are the babies. Oh, and Pops invited some friends of his from work
over to Babylon, too. Don't ask me where they fit."

She liked this family better with each passing minute.

"It's sweet of your dad to do this for your pops. You said he doesn't do
birthdays."

"Not his, but he could never really deny Pops anything. So this Friday
night you'll have the pleasure of sharing a meal with our ever growing
and loving family," she kissed his cheek and this time she did not feel
offended when he kept talking, "at our Diner - which will be closed just
for us - and dance the night away in the VIP lounge at Babylon. And
before you ask, we can go on the dance floor if we want to."

"That'll be nice. I've never been to a gay club before," she admitted
shyly.

"Well, enjoy the show, sweetheart, because your first time will be at the
best gay club in town."

Gus shrugged again and she braced herself because it usually was the
prelude to something Mrs. Marcus called Kinney-dimensioned.

"Well, you're with a Kinney. Couldn't expect anything less."

She clucked her tongue because she knew he hated it, and in a moment of
distraction he got hold of the MP3 player.

She desperately looked for something saying this torture wouldn't last
long.

"Come on, Gus," she pleaded.

Too late.

"SINCE IN THE WORLD I SAW YOU"

He was already singing.

"AND IT'S ALL RIGHT
BOUNCING AROUND FROM CLOUD TO CLOUD"

A sign reading Pittsburgh was twenty miles away wasn't what she was
praying for.

"EVERYTIME I TRY TO TALK TO YOU"

"You... You don't...even...know..."

"COMES OUT WRONG AND NEVER TURNS UP RIGHT"

"...the lyrics!"

"SO I SAY WHY DON'T YOU AND I GET TOGETHER
AND TELL THE WORLD THAT LALALALA FOREVEEER"

*****

End Part 1. Continue in Part 2.

*****