N has a blog(g)

First of all I want to thank you all for following and engaging with me ever since I returned to this space. It's been, mostly, great. I've written some things I'm really proud of, and for that reason I'm reluctant to delete this blog like I did the last.

I think it's been obvious I've not been enjoying myself for a long time, except for the occasional few days when it's been fun to write and interact with people. Throughout this whole year I've been trying to convince myself that I can use this blog only when I want to and feel inspired to, and while it sometimes works it very often just leaves me frustrated as I try to make this space fun for myself again. I'm gonna try not to be too longwinded about this as I have the habit of being, so long story short, I'm going to leave this blog.

I won't be deleting anything, but I'll also not be using this blog anymore. I was debating just disappearing without saying anything, but I think that's rude when some of you have been so very kind. The one and only exception will be if I feel really inspired and write something I love and would like to share specifically on here (or maybe I'll just post them on AO3 if I feel like it). Since I won't feel pressured to use this blog I'm sure that experience will be authentic and beautiful and rare. I want to focus on writing outside of this space, as I keep putting my energy here and not where I'd like it to be. There are lots of things going on in my life right now and I'd like to try to regain some control by using my free time intentionally in order to become the version of myself I'm striving toward. This blog is, unfortunately, not part of that version.

I still have a few prompts I want to fill, and a few WIPs I want to finish/post anyway, so I'm not disappearing just yet. When I say disappear, I'm not sure if I mean that I won't ever be logged in. I'm not entirely sure yet how I'm going to go about it, if I'm going to answer messages or turn asks off or what. I think, in the long run, asks will be turned off just so that I won't feel the urge to log in for the off chance someone has given me some attention. That's why I deleted the old blog, to keep myself from having one foot in there still.

I want to thank you for the lovely lovely time being back here. It's not been perfect, but that's not what I'm deciding to take with me this time. I want to remember writing Criminal Minds fics and Stranger Things fics and Red White and Royal Blue fics and Heartstopper fics, and how lovely you were about those fics. Revisiting fandoms and finding new ones and completing tickletober and having plans and ambitions for projects (even though I didn't always follow through, it's always nice having ambitions). I don't regret deleting the old blog and I don't regret creating this one. I think I probably needed to return, on my own terms, just like I'm now leaving on my own terms. I don't think I did that last time.

I keep rewriting this and looking at it and wondering if I will regret posting it. If posting it will somehow flip the switch and I will find so much joy here again and look like a fool. And if that happens, so be it. But I need to post this. I can't keep procrastinating. I have, in a way, been working up the nerve to say goodbye for the past year.

And sure, most diner waiters were technically waitresses, but the occasional unruly-haired college kid would set down their coffees and smile that big teasy grin of his that was so common among them - for the tips, Dean knew - and Dean had to clear his throat to keep from smiling back too hard. With women it was easier. They would roll their eyes at him, knowing this was all an act with no follow up, and Dean would leave feeling at least a little bit lighter. Sam’s presence was ever so present whenever they had male waiters.

And those scrawny kids were usually not even Dean’s type, but who was he to be ungrateful for a pretty smile and batting doe-eyes.

“Oh, I smell pancakes,” Sam said on a too early Monday morning in a rainy Seattle, entering the diner with too much pep in his step if Dean had to be honest. “And fresh coffee.”

“Likely thing for a diner to have,” Dean muttered, earning himself a laugh. Nothing was going to rain on Sam’s parade apparently.

“Hi, welcome in.” The waiter, a guy of about 25, smiled lazily at them from behind the counter. The diner wasn’t busy, so he was fiddling with something Dean couldn’t see. “I’ll be right with you. Take a seat, any seat.”

Sam led the way, which gave Dean an opportunity to glance back at the waiter. He looked… good. Burly with a beard, with something easy going about him. He swallowed thickly and sat down in the booth Sam had chosen, taking the seat so that he could see the entire diner. He deserved a treat on a fucking Monday morning.

“Gentlemen.” The waiter was approaching them with menus. “Can I tempt you with a cup of coffee while you look over our extraordinary options?”

Sam grinned. “Yes, please. Just a regular coffee for me. With room for milk.”

“And you.” He turned his soft brown eyes to Dean. “The same or would you like some sugar? Although I can’t say you’re not sweet enough on your own.”

Dean choked on his own spit and the guy, whose name tag read ‘Alex’, placed the menus on the table and disappeared, returning only seconds later with a pitcher of water and a glass. “I’m sorry. Too much?”

“N-no, I- I’m fine.” Dean coughed again, trying to restore some dignity. “Uh, yeah, the same. Please. And thank you. For the water.”

Alex smiled. “You’re welcome. I’ll be right back with your coffees.”

Sam shot him an amused look once they were alone. “You okay?” he asked with a laugh.

“I’m sure awake now.” He took a sip of his water, eyes on Alex’s retreating back.

“Not used to being complimented by guys, huh?”

If you only knew, Dean didn’t say. “Just wasn’t prepared for it first thing in the morning.”

“You do look kind of half asleep, actually.”

“Great.”

“But I can see how someone might think you’re cute.”

“Sam, please shut the hell up.”

Sam laughed again, so cheery, so comfortable. “I’m just saying. If that was a woman you would be soaking it up.”

Dean grabbed the menu and hid behind it. Leave it to Sam to overanalyze him as soon as he was caught off guard. “God, I hope they have pies.”

“We do, actually.” Alex had returned, carrying their two coffees and a small pitcher of milk on a tray.

Dean perked up. “You do?”

“Of course. Apple, cherry, even rhubarb.”

“He’ll have apple.”

Alex turned toward Sam. “You know him well, huh?”

“He’s my brother and he’s predictable.” Sam’s smile was a little too smug.

Dean narrowed his eyes, not liking the way his face suddenly felt hot. “Guilty as charged, I guess.”

Alex wrote something down in his notepad. “So that’s one apple pie. What would you like?”

When he left, Dean felt he couldn’t look Sam in the eye for some reason. Sam - oblivious or not, Dean had yet to decide - poured milk into his cup and stirred, taking a little too long, being a little too loud. Dean sipped his milk-less coffee, burning his tongue in the process. “So,” he said when Sam had finally stopped stirring. “Any theories?”

Sam craned his neck toward the bar. “About him?”

“What? No, about the case. Why would I be asking for theories about him?”

“I don’t know. You seem overly tense around him. And you haven’t stopped glancing up since he left.”

“I have not. Have I?” He suddenly felt unsure.

“Yeah, dude! You’re, like, so not slick.”

Dean nearly kicked him under the table. “Would you quiet down, Jesus Christ.”

Sam leaned over the table. “So what is it? Does he intimidate you or do you think he’s good looking? I can never tell.”

“I- what?”

“I mean, with women it’s always easy. You act like a fool when you’re into them. But I guess you try to not be as obvious with men, at least when I’m around, which I get. I hate that you feel like you have to do it, but I get it.”

Dean’s head was spinning. “You know?”

Sam’s face shifted from amused to almost pitying. “Dean, I have known you my entire life.”

Dean crossed his arms. Apparently Sam did know him better than he thought. And Dean’s method of never talking about it seemed to run in the family. “All right, let’s drop it.”

Sam nodded. “Right. Sorry. But I figured you should know. That I know, that is.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe I should’ve waited for you to tell me yourself, but I’m sure I would’ve waited for the rest of my life.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“And watching you fumble is kind of painful.”

Dean leaned across the table and jammed his fingers into his brother’s ribs. “I said shut up.”

He leaned against the bar and pondered that notion. He’d once been comfortable enough there that he didn’t need anything in particular. Just the right mood and some time. The hope he wouldn’t get called in for a case in the middle of it all, like that one Denver case. As he’d sat on the jet, nose all but stuck in the case file, he’d wondered if they could tell where he’d been. He’d been agitated those days, teetering the line of returning and never fully daring. He’d not been doing anything that night. Had only decided a drink at Tea Quells couldn’t hurt. He’d been two down when Hotch had called, and he’d realized with a sinking heart he wouldn’t have been able to drive.

“I need someone to pick me up,” he’d said, fighting off an all familiar panic. Feeling like a loser for being so ashamed.

“Where are you?”

And Morgan had run out, afraid Hotch would somehow locate him by thought alone. “Downtown. Not sure. I can take a cab.”

“I’m sure someone’s going your way. I’ll call you back.”

In the end, it had been Reid who’d picked him up. Reid, who always rode the metro unless they needed them to come in late and quickly. Reid, who wasn’t rubbing sleep out of his eyes but still looked like he was weeks behind on rest.

Morgan knew that incident was what made it all the more difficult to return. Why he opted for a soda rather than a beer. He could pretend he’d forgotten it, only that was nowhere near the truth. He couldn’t get Reid’s eyes out of his mind, the eyes he rested on him as he slammed the car door with barely a word. The way he hadn’t asked him what was wrong, probably assuming Morgan had been in the middle of something sexual, and how he’d wanted so badly to correct him but hadn’t wanted to have to explain.

That last part had caught him off guard, which hadn’t improved his mood whatsoever.

He ran a hand over his head now, already slightly too hot beneath the lights. The music was loud enough that you couldn’t hear the laughter, though he could see it all around him. People bending over as fingers prodded at their most sensitive spots. People leaning against each other rather than fighting it off. That part had always interested him the most, how people would go against bare human instinct for a moment of pleasure. He’d always been the one to tickle others, and so he’d never felt what they did, which made him enjoy it all the more. Watching them, trying to profile them, in the least serious sense of the word of course. But he couldn’t help it. He enjoyed trying to guess their reactions before he even touched them. Who would giggle, who would fight. It was thrilling, especially when the result was so different to how they acted otherwise.

He took another sip. While he’d been out of the scene, he’d occasionally engaged in tickle fights. Normal people did that. Normal people didn’t overthink things like that. Only Morgan was never able to fully relax. Was always wondering if he’d crossed a line. And so he’d tried to not think about it, which also meant he rarely tickled anyone at this point.

No one noticed. Why would they? It wasn’t as if that was a regular part of the days of BAU agents.

It should be, he thought as the song changed. It might make them feel a little human.

“Hey you.” He turned toward Mary, who he used to tickle a lot back in the day. She was fun. Great reactions. Into bondage. Never made it weird afterward. That was one of Morgan’s boundaries. A session was never more than a session. If either of them wanted it to turn into something more they had to discuss it beforehand. But as a general rule he never slept with his lees, even if the session could occasionally turn sexual, with prediscussed consent. He also never dated his lees, unless he’d been dating them before they became his lees. That had never happened, because Morgan didn’t really date anyone for long enough to share this.

“Hey.” He grinned as he accepted her hug. “Long time no see.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?”

He laughed. He’d forgotten she was sassy. He could never tickle that out of her, which always made their sessions extra fun. “Sorry. Life got in the way.”

“Anything serious?” Concern flickered across her face, but he waved her off.

“No, no, just haven’t really had the time.”

“Well, let me fill you in then.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the all familiar room, which had looked pretty much the same since Morgan had come here the first time. “Ashley and Lara got together after their hundredth session or something.”

Morgan laughed. Leave it to Mary to share all the gossip. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“In that vein, Greg and Amanda broke up.”

“No.”

“But here’s the thing. They still do sessions together!” She shook her head as Morgan laughed at her incredulousness. “They claim no one tickles them like they tickle each other, but hello toxic codependency.”

“What about you then?” he asked as they entered the “cave” as the locals called it, with its neon red lights to indicate raunchier behavior.

“What about me?”

“Do you still switch?”

“I’m mostly a ler now, actually.”

“Is that so?” His teasing tone came mostly out of habit, and she slapped him on the arm also out of habit.

“Shut up. I’ve come to really enjoy it.”

“Well, that’s good. I’d been hoping to do my comeback debut with you, but I guess not.”

She put her hand on her chest. “I’m honored, but you have plenty of old lees and also lots of new ones here. Do you still mostly do both?”

Morgan nodded. He mostly tickled women, but would occasionally tickle men, which he also refused to think too hard about. Laughter was laughter, and he enjoyed a good hysteric laugh. Men were fun to pull apart, seeing as they usually had a lot more pride and spent way too long trying to keep their composure. He took another sip of his soda and scanned the room, realizing that maybe he needed that. Needed to know he could still turn a man into a pleading, giggling mess, after all this time. Needed to know not all men killed and raped and hurt. Some of them laughed and were listened to when they begged for mercy.

“That one-” Mary pointed very un-discreetly toward a man Morgan vaguely recognized. “-has been experimenting with being a lee recently. That’s fun, right?”

“It is.” He looked at him, took in the masculinity. The muscles. Morgan bet he could make him giggle, but something was off. It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine him throwing his head back with laughter, or that he would let Morgan overpower him at all (maybe after a struggle, maybe immediately). Hell, he’d never been one to care for people’s looks when it came to this, but the muscles suddenly bothered him. Insecure, some might call him, but it wasn’t that. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Not interested?” Mary had a way of always seeing through him. That was why he felt so comfortable playing around with her. Full transparency, she always told him and let him pull her apart until she was satisfied.

Damn, he’d missed her.

“No.” He shook his head and kept scanning the room, trying to pinpoint his mood. “I’m not even sure I wanna do a session tonight, but- oh.”

Mary turned toward the room. “Oh? Oh who?”

“Oh no one.”

“Derek.” She poked him in the ribs only because she knew she was allowed to, but it caught him off guard and he jerked away with a laugh that surprised him. Loud. Carefree. “Tell me this instant.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus, stop.” He grabbed her wrists, squeezed them once. “Fuck, you’re a good ler.”

“Oh, I know. Now spill.”

“It’s just- that guy. Over by the bar.”

“That one? He’s cute. I think he’s new, I don’t recognize him.”

“So you can’t tell me anything about him.”

She grimaced. “Unfortunately. But hey, if you like ‘em scrawnier-”

Morgan suddenly realized he did. Realized he longed for boyish timidness and the huge amount of trust you had to display to let someone much bigger than you pin you down like that. And maybe, if he hadn’t been so panicked at the idea that maybe he was just like them, just like the bad men they chased who enjoyed the idea of overpowering others much weaker than them, he might’ve realized who he actually couldn’t stop thinking about was Reid.

“I think I’m gonna leave,” he said, suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t breathe. Whatever Mary saw on his face, she didn’t ask any questions. Simply led him out of Tea Quells and hugged him for a moment too long before they parted.

*

Morgan felt hungover, which was crazy considering it had been two days since he’d been to the club and also hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol anyway. Maybe it was a blessing that they walked into Quantico to find a new case waiting for them, though they swiftly realized it was a local case that wouldn’t require them to fly anywhere. Maybe that was a blessing, too.

“A young man was found just this morning,” Hotch said, sliding the files across the table. “Tied up in his own bedroom with his throat slashed. No sign of forced entry. His roommate found him after coming back from visiting home during the weekend to their door being unlocked.”

“Holy shit,” Prentiss cried as she opened the file. “His face-”

“Entirely slashed too, yes. We were only able to identify him from a birthmark on his arm, and the fact that it was his address.”

“Is this a one off thing?” Morgan asked, trying not to look too closely at the picture in front of him. He would do plenty of that later.

“So far no crime similar to this has been called in, but this is an unusual and cruel killing, so they decided to get us on the case immediately. It helps that it’s local. He was found downtown.” Hotch grabbed the remote. “21-year-old student Ted Jones was studying to become a nurse. Roommate described him as quiet and hardworking. Said she kept urging him to go out and have fun once in a while, too.”

“So do we think he listened?” Morgan looked up and nearly bit his tongue off.

On the screen before him, the man he’d seen at Tea Quells only two days earlier. The man who had been leaning against the bar while speaking with the bartender. A quiet timidness to him, though he’d been speaking with excitement. Morgan had been able to pinpoint his type immediately. Young. Inexperienced. Finally taking a step toward a more authentic life.

He felt sick. He felt sick.

“Morgan, are you okay?”

It was Reid. Fuck, it was Reid. Reid who looked so much like him, too. The glasses, he had thought, but it hadn’t only been the glasses. It was the sharpness of their jaws and the leanness of their build. Most of all he had reminded him of Reid way back when, a young 23-year-old who had just started at the FBI of all places. Who was certain of his capabilities but not of much else.

He blinked at him. How many times had he not told him that he needed to let loose? How many times had he almost gotten Reid killed because of it?

“I’ve seen him,” he said, not voluntarily, but he couldn't lie, not about this. “I saw him on Saturday.”

The room turned toward him. “Where did you see him?” Hotch asked, already grabbing for a pen.

“At a club. It’s, uh, a kink club. Don’t ask. Don’t-” He ran a hand over his face. “Just don’t ask. It’s called Tea Quells. I saw him for only a second. Thought he kind of looked like Reid, that’s why I remember him.”

“Tea- what was that? Tea Quells?”

“Yes. It’s down by the port.” If Reid remembered having picked him up from that area, Morgan didn’t know. Refused to think too hard about it right now.

“Did he look like he belonged?”

“He looked- giddy.” Morgan shut his eyes. “Like it was his first time there and he was excited. God, that’s messed up.” He opened his eyes again. Looked straight at Hotch. “I left soon after, so I don’t know if he went home with anyone from there.”

“Well, if it’s a kink club,” Rossi started, but Morgan shook his head.

“It’s the type of club where… you don’t have to go home in order to participate. They have, well, resources. But if there was no sign of forced entry.”

“It means anything could’ve happened between you seeing him and him ending up dead.” Hotch closed the file. “We need to go visit this club. And talk to his roommate again. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, you take the club. Me and Dave will go to the crime scene. JJ, you talk to the press. Apparently word has spread rather quickly.”

She shook her head. “People always get ecstatic whenever something happens locally to the bureau. I’m on it.”

*

“So.” Prentiss dragged out the word as they settled in the car. “Have you been to this club before?”

Morgan huffed. “I have the right to a lawyer.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not a strange thing to wonder.”

“I guess not.”

“But you’re not gonna answer?”

“But I’m not gonna answer.”

She nodded in the passenger seat as Morgan started the car. “Noted. Respected, even.

“I’m surprised.”

“So am I, actually. I figured this is uncomfortable enough as it is.”

“Well, that’s kind of you.”

They spoke so casually, but he bet Prentiss could tell his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was grateful for her discretion. Grateful that Reid, who was sitting in the backseat, didn’t say anything at all.

“So this club,” she continued. “Is it based around a specific type of kink, or is it a standard, like, BDSM-club or something?”

“It’s a specific type of kink. Which ties into BDSM in some ways.” He took a turn. Kept his eyes on the road.

“Interesting.”

“Is it a tickle club?” Reid suddenly asked from the back and Morgan nearly crashed the car.

“Uh.”

Prentiss looked back at him. “Wait, is it?”

“From the name to the way Morgan vaguely describes it, my guess is yes.”

“Wait, Tea Quells-”

“Tickles.”

She laughed. “Oh my god, that’s amazing.”

“I think this is the worst day of my life.”

Prentiss patted his arm. “Hey, no judgment from me. To each their own and all that.”

“I wish I had been murdered instead.”

“Woah, too far.”

“Sorry.” Morgan exhaled. “Yeah, too far.”

They drove in silence the rest of the way, though Morgan couldn’t determine whether that was better or worse.

“I need to tell you something,” he said as they stepped out. “I mean, since you kind of already know now. They do know me here. Or well, many of them do. I haven’t been here in a minute, but since it’s the only club of its kind here-” He shrugged. “Not many more places to go, so it tends to be the same crowd. Anyway, the thing is. No one knows I’m a cop and I kind of would prefer to keep it that way. I just didn’t know how to tell Hotch that.”

Prentiss was nodding. “We’ll use that to our advantage. You go in as a concerned customer and we go in as the BAU. We’ll get different perspectives that way.”

“I could kiss you, Emily Prentiss.”

“I would prefer you didn’t, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Morgan laughed, suddenly feeling slightly hysterical. “Okay. All right. Should I go in first?”

“Whatever you think is less suspicious.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in like five minutes. But don’t talk to me in there.”

Prentiss saluted. “Got it, boss.”

He caught Reid smiling, ever so slightly, and that made him feel lighter. Which was messed up considering the circumstances.

Tea Quells in the daytime, for it was open during the day too but was mostly a regular bar, was jarring. People were spread out throughout the premises, nursing a drink or watching the TV screens or both. Some were playing pool - were those pool tables always there? - and most alarming of all, no one was laughing.

Morgan realized in slight horror that he didn’t recognize a single face. Not even the bartender’s.

“Hey, uh,” he started, frowning at the disinterest he was displaying as he met Morgan’s gaze.

“What can I get for you?”

“Nothing. I mean. I came because I heard about Ted.”

The bartender blinked. “Who.”

Jesus Christ. He didn’t know. Did anyone know?

“Nevermind,” he said and backed away, wondering, suddenly, if the killer was in there, picking his next prey, or laying low, or both.

He had to call Mary, he suddenly realized. Holy shit, was Mary okay? What if the next one would be one of his own? His lees. His people. But he didn't have Mary’s number. He was too paranoid to get anyone’s number.

He met Prentiss and Reid at the door. “I don’t recognize anyone and no one knows about Ted. We’d have better luck coming back tonight to the regular crowd.”

“Would they be here on a Monday?”

Fuck, he hadn’t thought about that. “Well, we can try, right?”

And so they did. Morgan with his clubbing clothes, riding toward the tickle club with his coworkers. What was his life, truly. And why was something that was once his nightmare something he was handling rather well, all things considered? He had only had like three panic attacks about it.

They didn’t talk about it, of course. He probably would’ve died if they did. And he was too good of a profiler for them to kill him off like that.

“I’ll go in first,” Prentiss said and unbuckled her seatbelt. “I think I’d like to get an independent feel of the place. Give me like ten minutes.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat and watched her enter Tea Quells. “You wanna come sit up here while we wait, pretty boy?”

Reid’s presence beside him was different to him simply being in the car. Morgan could feel him almost everywhere. Could feel the heat of his skin and the way he was looking at him even though Morgan refused to return the gaze. He was embarrassed, he suddenly realized, because guys who looked like Reid had caught his attention before, though he had never acted on the instinct to go up to them and ask to tickle them. Because none of them were Reid.

That thought alone made him feel like a fucking creep.

“I’m sure you have questions,” he said, knowing Reid would never ask.

“I do,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure whether you would appreciate my asking though.”

“I’m sure I can handle one or two.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Morgan shrugged. “I mean, it’s just the two of us anyway, so.”

Reid didn’t say anything immediately, which prompted Morgan to look at him. He’d pulled his gaze toward the club, so obviously choosing his words. “Do you go here because of what it offers?”

“Do I participate, you mean?”

“In more direct terms, yes.”

“I, uh, do, yes. Though I was honest about not having been here in a while.”

“What a welcome.”

“Tell me about it.”

He could sense Reid wasn’t finished, and so he waited him out, pretending all the while as if his face wasn’t on fire.

“Do you do the tickling?” he finally asked. Morgan appreciated the lack of tact this time.

“I do. I don’t really do the receiving. Or well, I never have. I like being in control.” He turned toward him, suddenly desperate for him to understand. “Of myself, I mean. Not because I crave control of others, really, but there’s trust to this, right? People trust I will respect their boundaries and be a safe person for them to let go around.”

Reid was nodding. “I never suspected otherwise, Morgan.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this freak. Like our killer, or our other unsubs.”

“I would never think that.” Reid was frowning. “I- I know you see me as this inexperienced nerd or whatever, but I’m aware of kink scenes and I think they tend to be the most respectful places for sexual activities. And I don’t judge you for being involved with one. Sure, it surprised me that it’s this, but it’s not like I have thought about it, so any one would probably surprise me. In fact, now that I think about it I think it makes sense.”

“You do?”

“You’re caring and playful and like to push people’s buttons, but only if they respond well to it. This seems right up your alley.”

Morgan exhaled. “Okay.”

“Has this been bothering you a lot?”

“Yes.” No point in lying now. “I haven’t come back in a while because I struggle with it. In relation to this job, mostly, because I accepted my inclination years ago. But this job makes me feel predatory, you know?”

Reid shook his head. “I hate that you feel that.”

“But you understand why I do?”

“I do. I just want you to know it’s not true, but-”

“But?”

“I’m sure many of us have felt that way.”

“Have you?”

Reid hummed. Had Morgan not been so close, the car not so quiet, he might’ve missed it.

He leaned back. “This job sure messed us up, huh. Too bad we’re so good at it.” He opened the car door, the coward’s way out. “Let’s go. I think ten minutes are up.”

*

The way it played out was simple. Someone had seen Ted leave with a man around his own size at midnight, and neither of them ever returned. The other man was called Jacob, and Jacob was a regular switch who wasn’t too selective about who he did sessions with and wasn’t shy about inviting people home too. Upon further digging, it turned out that Ted and Jacob were actually friends, and Jacob had convinced Ted to come and check out the scene. Apparently Ted wasn’t even into this whole thing, as far as Jacob was aware, but he’d been curious about it. Curious enough that he’d arrived when Jacob was still sessioning with someone, and so he’d gotten himself a drink when Morgan had caught sight of him. He’d decided he’d seen enough by the time Jacob was done, and so they’d left. And at some point during their walk to and from the subway, Stanley Larson had started following them.

Jacob’s body was found Tuesday morning. They caught Stanley by Thursday.

“So he had nothing to do with the club,” Prentiss said as she closed the case file. “Just happened to stumble upon them that very same night. What are the odds of that?”

“Well, statistically speaking-”

“That was a hypothetical question, Reid.”

Reid closed his mouth.

Morgan was kind of mad that the club just happened to be the last place Ted and Jacob were seen at and had absolutely nothing else to do with their deaths. Then he felt like a fucking asshole for thinking that when two people were dead.

He ran a hand over his head where he was sitting hunched over the file. He had no reason to keep looking at it, really, only he felt he hadn’t really been able to meet anyone’s eye that day.

Thank god it was Friday.

After he had spent approximately twenty minutes just staring at the file, he felt a figure looming over him. “Hi.”

“Pretty boy, hey.” He straightened. Reid was fiddling with the straps of his satchel, which was how Morgan realized it was time to head home. “You’re leaving?”

“You should too.”

“I will.” He closed the case file and stood. “Right now, actually.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Could I catch a ride with you?”

“No subway today?”

Reid pulled a face. “I’m not really feeling it.”

“That’s fair. Yeah, of course I’ll drive you, come on.”

He knew what Reid was doing, but neither of them said a thing. Not during the elevator ride. Not during the walk to the garage. And certainly not during the drive to Reid’s apartment, which wasn’t too far away from Morgan’s anyway. They only spoke once he’d parked and Reid asked if he wanted to come inside.

They didn’t usually do this, though they had before. Teetering the line of something they never fully acknowledged. They had been doing that for years.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Morgan settled on his couch. “You got any sodas?”

Reid handed him a can. “Your favorite.”

“You stock up on these in case I come over?” He meant it as a joke, but the way Reid flushed was very interesting. “Wait, really?” He felt a grin tug at his lips. He’d spent the past few days in a constant state of shame, so it felt good to be the one to finally do the teasing again. “That’s sweet.”

Reid sat down beside him. “I’m just a considerate host.”

“Right, right.”

Reid crossed his legs where he sat. In another life Morgan would’ve paired his teasing up with a squeeze to his knee, but felt too self conscious about it now.

He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you didn’t invite me over because you wanted my company.”

“Well, not purely.”

“Go on, then.” He ran a finger over the edge of his can. “Ask.”

“I-” Reid cut himself off. “I’m- curious.”

“About?”

“About trying it out.”

“You- wait, what?”

Reid was blushing, which wasn’t surprising. What was however, was the fact that he wasn’t averting his eyes despite that. Seemed to be entirely serious when he said, “I’d like to see what it’s all about.”

“We’re talking about tickling, right? You are aware that that means you will have to be tickled, right? Unless you want to try it out on me, which, I mean, while it’s not usually my thing I guess I can make an exception-”

“I want you to tickle me.”

“Ah.” Whatthefuck. “But- why?”

Reid shrugged. “Like I said.”

*

Reid did his research, because that was what he always did. The very moment Morgan mentioned the “kink club” he was off, looking it up and looking up what it meant to have a tickle kink and trying to pinpoint where exactly Derek Morgan fit into all of this. He didn’t tell him. Of course he didn’t tell him. Morgan was embarrassed enough as it was by the case, and for him to do research ahead of time was probably crossing a line.

He didn’t know how he would’ve reacted had he not done it. Not that he judged, but initial reactions to surprising revelations couldn’t always be controlled, and the last thing he wanted was to scare Morgan off.

The part that surprised him came later, when they entered the club at night after their conversation in the car. Reid didn’t like clubs. They were always too loud and too crowded, and the flashing lights didn’t help. But something washed over him at Tea Quells. Some sort of sudden understanding which made it all click for him. Morgan in that club. He looked anxious, which Reid didn’t blame him for, but beneath that, seen only in glimpses, was a tranquility he rarely saw in his friend and coworker. He looked like he truly belonged there.

Of course Reid got curious.

*

“I’m curious.”

Morgan shifted in his seat. Reid’s gaze made him feel timid. The whole goddamn situation, the whole goddamn case and the whole goddamn week had made him feel timid, and he never knew what to do with it. But Reid’s sincerity almost touched him. It didn’t seem fake whatsoever.

“Elaborate.”

“Well.” Reid seemed to hesitate. “I have done some- research.”

“Of course you have.”

“So I know the very basics of it.”

“Surprised you don’t know all of it.”

“I can’t read my way into people’s deepest thoughts and desires.” He paused. “Or, well, it depends on how much research there’s been done. This is a quite unexplored topic, believe it or not.”

Morgan breathed out a laugh. “Oh, I believe it. So I guess this is your way of doing boots on the ground research.”

Reid smiled. “Something like that.”

*

Reid had done more research than Morgan probably suspected, but, he now realized, you really couldn’t read your way into an understanding of what it was like actually being in this situation. He approached it as an outsider, he understood that, but the skip of a heartbeat was real, and the giggly nervousness which gripped him was real, and the way Morgan moved closer, so carefully and slowly as to not scare him off, that was so fucking real that Reid didn’t really know what to do with it.

“Just-” Morgan paused, fingers in the air and all. “Please say the safe word if you don’t like it. Please.”

“I promise.”

“I mean it, pretty boy.”

“Yes, Morgan- heh.” Whatever that sound was, a giggle of some sort, came without his consent and he all but slapped a hand over his own mouth at the shock of it. But Morgan finally melting into a playful smile, which he was certain to be normally sporting during his tickly encounters, made him less self conscious about it.

“Already giggling, huh? So I’m assuming your neck’s a sweet spot?” He wiggled his fingers in the air again, which was what he’d been doing to get Reid to initially react. Far enough that he wasn’t touching him at all, but just at the right height that had Reid all nervous.

Reid put a hand over his throat. “I guess.”

“I can’t really tickle you if you’re covering the spot, you know.” He dropped his hand. “Unless you want me to start at a different spot?”

Reid thought about it. The neck was a vulnerable spot. Easy to catch unguarded, but difficult to stay at unless you had your opponent fully restrained in some way. Reid was sure to struggle if targeted there. He was sure to squirm and flail and scrunch. But letting Morgan go there first, even for only a moment, was an act of intimacy. Of trust. So of course he had to let Morgan go there first. Even for only a moment.

“No, it’s okay.” He uncovered the spot, though his hands remained hovering in the air. There was only so much he could do to stifle his natural instincts.

“If you’re sure?”

“If you stall any longer I might freak out from the anticipation.”

And Morgan laughed. Morgan laughed so suddenly and beautifully and Reid was so fully captivated by it that he let his guard down completely, which meant he was entirely unprepared for the tickle attack and wasn’t able to try to rein in any ounce of his reaction.

Apparently he was more ticklish than he remembered. And somehow, despite not having believed it at all, it wasn’t so bad being on the receiving end either. Not when he was the one technically in control. Not when Morgan tickled him purely because he asked him to.

*

Reid was so fucking ticklish that Morgan wondered if he was faking it to humor him. But no, Morgan was a connoisseur in the art of tickling, and while he had encountered many people who for some reason both held back and exaggerated their reactions to the best of their abilities, there was no way Reid could be doing that. No, the way he threw back his head was real. The way he grabbed for Morgan’s hands and panicked when he at first couldn’t only for the eventual grip of them to be weakened and useless was real. And his laugh. Oh, his laugh. Morgan had not heard anything more real in his life. Choppy and giddy and slightly high pitched, as if he wasn’t sure how to do it. Had probably not laughed like this in years. Morgan had certainly never heard him laugh like this before.

“Okay, okay, I’ll have mercy on you,” he said, because he was afraid that this would be too much and Reid would want to stop, and Morgan wasn’t ready for it to be over. He switched from his neck to his ribs, poking and prodding and finding it less effective than a simple swipe of the finger over his neck, and so he changed tactics. Grabbing one of Reid’s wrists, because both would be overkill, he held it just tightly enough to grant himself ten uninterrupted seconds of gentle curls of his fingers at the spot where his ribcage met his side. Let’s just say it worked much better.

“See, I like this,” he said, trying to be heard over Reid’s laughter. “because you trust me enough to do this. And because you’re having fun enough that you’re not asking me to stop. It’s different for someone who enjoys being on the receiving end. They want me to be doing this.”

Reid managed to grab his wrist when he switched to clawing at his belly. “But why are you enjoying this?”

Morgan freed his hand and gave his knee a squeeze. “Because I’m the one who makes this fun for you.”

*

Reid understood it now. Understood that you could never fully understand unless you were in the person’s shoes, but he understood enough now, as he tried to keep himself from fighting Morgan off too much. Understood because it tickled like crazy and yet he didn’t want it to stop, not yet.

“You do know I didn’t just do this for research, right?” Reid said quietly once it was over, once Morgan had found that spot on his thigh which had him finally cave and ask for mercy.

“I know, Reid.”

He nodded. “Good. Just checking.”