Well, hello there!

It took me quite some time to finish this, but that's what you get when life interrupts. This chapter here is pretty quiet but I hope you will like it at least for the fact that it settles things, kind of. Not to mention that this is still Slash, I mean, that's not gonna change anymore.

So, have fun.

You can have this heart to break.

O~O

Clooney's recovery goes exceptionally well.

It doesn't take long for the stitches to be removed and the wound to almost fully heal, and in general, everything goes better than expected. There won't be any permanent damage. Clooney is mostly as jumpy and energetic as ever and apart from a blank spot where the fur just won't grow again and Clooney's sudden aversion for too big dogs that cross his path after sunset, nothing would indicate that anything like that incident ever happened.

The bald spot. The slight hesitance when it comes to certain other dogs. And the awkwardness that lingers between you and Reid ever since.

You sigh and lean back in your chair, rubbing your eyes that burn with tiredness. You wouldn't have thought Clooney's accident would have that much of an impact on your relationship with Reid. But then again, it is not Clooney's fault things are so messed up between the two of you but your own stupid ass slip that grazed a border without really crossing it.

It is barely perceptible at first glance, because most of the time you act pretty normal around each other.

Needing to stretch you muscles, you stand up and take a few steps in your small office. Walking around a little, moving your arms and legs, you can see through the blinds how Reid closes the file he was working on, puts his pen aside and pushes his hair out of his face. He sits very upright for a long moment, staring down while holding his breath, and you use that moment of his stillness to get out of your office.

He exhales and raises his head to look at you for the briefest instant, and you can see that he is ready to shut down everything. Leaning against the railing, you watch how he turns off his computer, stands up and grabs his messenger bag.

"I'm out," he says to no one in particular and looks at nothing, even though you are the only one left in the bull pen with him.

Prentiss went from the jet straight to her car to head home. You and Reid decided to get over with writing the report for the latest case as long as everything is still fresh, so that you can close the matter along with the file for good. Hotch and Rossi are hiding in their offices, JJ and Garcia went home soon after Emily took off, and that left Reid alone in the bull pen.

"Need a ride, Kid?" you ask casually while stretching the muscles in your back and gripping the railing firmly.

Normally, that wouldn't have been a question. And normally, the answer would be predictable. It is now as well, but not the way it used to be. "No, I'm good, thanks," is what he answers, declining politely but undeniably. "Have a good night, man."

"You, too," you say, a little dumbfounded, but most of all, you are something in the lines of disappointed and unsurprised.

His lips twitch, a smile that is barely visible and doesn't even reach his eyes. Your gaze follows him all the way through the corridor until the doors of the bull pen swing close behind him, and you didn't notice you were holding your breath but you are. Slowly, you release the air in your lungs and shake your head – you cannot help it.

Seems all pretty normal, right? Well, it isn't by far, but only if you look closer. Closer as in beyond the working relationship.

Until now, Reid didn't come over again. That is quite some time. Well, maybe it isn't all that long, considering that you just finished three cases in a row and still cooling down from the latest one. It has been close to four weeks now. You haven't been at his place, either. And really, it might not be that long, but since this (whatever it is) started, there have never been four weeks without at least having dinner together once in a while.

Sighing, you scrub your face with your knuckles.

Well done, Derek, really. All this time, all those months and years you try so hard not to screw things up between you and him, and suddenly, boom, just like that it happened.

It is really bizarre how Reid can laugh with Prentiss in one moment and just when you come into view, his smile falters and he averts his eyes and has to excuse himself. Not right away, of course, he doing it far more subtle, every time. But sooner or later someone has to pick up on how you aren't able to act normal around each other outside of working cases and attending meetings.

Somehow you screwed up, Derek, and you need to fix this. Not only because you work amongst a team of profilers and chances are that they pick up on it sooner rather than later. But because you miss him. Not even as something extraordinarily romantic but simply as your friend. But how are you supposed to fix this when the other half of your problem refuses to face you properly?

You barely chase Clooney out of your bed anymore. You shouldn't give in to his bad habits but since he got injured he seems to be in need of a lot of love, more than before, and apparently there is no need now to keep that space free. No one is going to take his place anytime soon, it seems.

Who would have guessed that Reid could fill that much room in your life? Feels kind of empty now, doesn't it?

Actually, man, that is pretty pathetic.

Stop acting like school boys and get yourselves together, for heaven's sake. You are friends and you should be able to talk about something that didn't even really happen. Seriously, what did happen to mess things up like that? In a rush of joyous relief you kissed him on the cheek. Wow. And? That is nothing to get that worked up about and a few years ago, you wouldn't have let this happen. To over-think and analyze things is Reid's job, not yours. Your job is to act.

So when you enter the bull pen the next morning, you decide that Reid avoided you long enough.

Prentiss is already fetching the first coffee for today and Reid is sitting at his desk with a cup of his own. Business as usual. But what is indeed unusual, at least compared to the past few weeks, is that Reid looks up as you enter the bull pen. And meets your eyes. And holds your gaze all the way to the flight of stairs that leads to the upper offices.

Huh. Well, maybe he has made the same decision. That is has been long enough. That you need to act now. This is… good, you guess.

The debriefing for the case you just returned from yesterday goes quietly and without any disturbance. You gather in the round table room, voices are low and calm, weariness still evident in everyone's faces. Reid holds a mini-lecture about the influence of fictional characters on early childhood development, and especially Prentiss, gripping the back of her neck softly, eyes small and lips slightly parted, hangs on his every word.

"It must be awesome to have you tell bedtime stories," she says when he is finished, and everyone laughs quietly at it. "Seriously," she says to everybody around and it is obvious that the meeting has reached its end.

"Good job, everyone," Hotch says and in a choir of chairs that scratch the floor, paper rustling and shoes shuffling the team is dismissed.

"Maybe you should ask him sometime," you hear Rossi say as he and Emily leave the conference room.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll even tuck you in," JJ adds with a grin.

"Along with some snuggles?" Garcia asks jokingly and makes JJ beside her giggle and Prentiss in front of her roll her eyes.

"You guys are aware that I can still hear you, right?" Reid asks behind them, but the good natured joke is nothing more than that and they can all laugh about it as they attempt to clear out.

"Hey, uh, Reid," you call and while everyone else takes their leave, Reid pauses in his step and turns around to face you, really face you, for the first time in weeks, maybe. The girls look at you with curious faces until JJ urges them away. Hotch and Rossi exchange glances for the briefest instant, before they decide to grant you some ignorance. You two are left behind and left alone and Reid takes a half step back as you seem to get a little too close.

"Yes?" he asks, trying not to sound too cautious.

'I didn't want to make you avoid me,' 'I think we need to talk about what happened last time because I have no idea what it was,' 'If you tell me what I did wrong, then maybe I could do it right next time,' you think.

"I need a file," you say.

Reid blinks and his gaze flickers past you as if he expects some kind of trick played on him with your words. "A file?" he asks then, turning his face away from you ever so slightly.

"Yeah, I – " If you think about it, that might not be all that stupid, after all. Maybe a talk like that is better held in your office where you are at least somewhat in private. "The Costravo-case? I need to look something up, so…"

"So you… need the file," Reid concludes. You simply nod and a moment of silence stretches uncomfortably between you, until Reid clears his throat. "Alright, uhm, I can – " He rubs the spot above his left eyebrow. "Yeah, I'll get it and drop it off for you."

"Thanks, Kid."

He lifts both his eyebrows and stretches his lips into a thin smile, nods and disappears. You exhale slowly, releasing the awkwardness from inside you that made your muscles stiff.

Reid is already at his desk, going though all the stuff there, when you make it outside and Emily says something that you cannot hear and that makes him pull a face towards her. Your sisters always made the same face Prentiss makes now in return.

When Reid meets you in your office, it is sooner than you have expected. You only ever sat down mere moments ago before a knock on the door announces him and he steps inside, holding more files than just the one you asked for.

"Hey," he greets you as if you would see each other for the first time today. You stand up again to meet him halfway and he hands you a file that reads Richard Costravo. "Here you go."

"Thanks." You grab it and flip through it with unseeing eyes, simply to have something to look at other than his face. Don't stare, Derek. And for heaven's sake, don't act like a high schooler in front of his crush.

"Is something wrong?" Reid asks suddenly and you look up to him. "With the file, I mean? I mean, why do you need to – "

"Oh, no, not at all, it's all good," you say. "I just wanted to check something, that's all." Actually, you didn't but you needed an excuse to lure him in here. The Costravo-file was the first thing that came to mind, because you know he was working on it. He doesn't need to worry about his job performance, but before you can come to fulfill the purpose of him being here, he already bids his goodbye. "Hey, wait, wait up," you say and grab his arm before he can sneak out again. "Listen, Kid, maybe we really should – "

"Rossi's waiting," he interrupts you, hastily, apologetically. "Rossi awaits me, we're signed to hold a lecture at John Jay College, we need to prepare."

"Oh." You let go if his arm. "Yeah, sure, go ahead, it's alright." Bad timing, man, nothing you can do about it. "And thanks for Costravo," you say and bump the folder against his forehead.

He drops his gaze and smiles, the first genuine one you have seen from him in days. A shame that he has to go now, but you don't stop him this time when he attempts to take his leave. You turn away when he does, rolling up the file that you don't even need.

The door opens and Reid lifts his head. "Maybe we – " You swirl around at his words, just to see him look away again. "Never mind." And he is gone.

You don't see him for the next three hours. Locked away with Rossi and working on how to entertain a bunch of college freshmen for about ninety minutes, while you pore over your own stuff, it might not be all that surprising, though. It is a slow day at the bureau and the whole team is scattered over the place. Necessary, from time to time.

Somewhere along your paperwork, you run out of coffee. That is okay for about half an hour, but when you countersign a report and your eyes graze the useless Costravo-file, you put your pen aside, rub your dry eyes and get up to get a refill.

As though by chance, Rossi and Reid finished already. At least, you read it that way with the door to Rossi's office wide open and the sight of a missing genius, as you pass it by. The universe seems to want you to cross paths desperately, for Reid is fixing himself a fresh cup of coffee.

What would you just do without that horrible brew?

"Mind to leave something for me?" you ask, standing in the doorway to the break room. He flicks a gaze over his shoulder, mumbling something of sure, no problem, and you put your mug next to his to let him top up your drink. Expecting the worst, you take a sip, just to realize that, "Wow, this is pretty good."

"My means were limited," Reid says, pouring some sugar into his coffee. "I tried my best, though," and there is playful determination in his voice.

You laugh at that, relaxing next to him with your mug on your lips. "You did good," you assure him and he smiles, and suddenly, the both of you are normal again. So easily. For a moment, you drink quietly, without any need to break that silence just now, and you remember why you let those things happen at that time.

Because you simply cannot resist him. Because he got under your skin so deeply that you don't know when it started or where it ends.

"How is Clooney?", Reid asks then.

"Oh, he's fine. He's doing really good. He's a little… careful now, I guess, since he got the stitches removed," you say. And he is, actually. Where he was always so excited and went overboard easily, he is now a little wary. "Misses you, though."

"Me? He does?" Reid looks amused.

"Sure he does," you say. "There's no one to spoil him right now and he probably hoped for you to do that."

"Morgan, you are aware that Clooney is a dog and not capable of scienter and intended actions, aren't you?" he asks, the corners of his mouth curling upwards, even though he doesn't want them to.

"I am but I'm not sure Clooney is," you say jokingly and his smile breaks through full force. Dazzlingly beautiful. There is no way you could not return it.

"You know, you could have done that, if he's so desperately waiting for it," Reid says.

"Nah, man, no can do. Give him an inch and he'll take a yard," you tell him. "I allowed him in the bed two times after the accident, and ever since he refuses to give this spot up." Reid actually laughs and makes a hard knot in your throat disappear. "I miss you, too," you admit, the words slipping past your lips unintentionally. And just like that, it is gone again.

The carefree glow around him vanishes as his smile falters and his eyes flicker across your face almost insecurely. He lowers his face, his shoulders hunched, and attempts to leave you again.

But it is enough already, isn't it?

"Reid." He doesn't react and you follow the steps he just took and grab his arm to stop him. "If I did something to make you uncomfortable – " a halfhearted try to pull away – "you need to tell me! Man, we're friends, I thought – " He jerks away again, really shaking you off this time, and you let him because holding him back is one thing but forcing him is another.

But he doesn't retreat like you thought he would. Instead he goes in a flash from rather far away to really close and even closer, until the only thought remaining is that, God, he is so very close. And then he stops being close and is just there and his mouth is pressed to yours.

Wow.

His hand grips your nape and reminds you that you are supposed to act. Eyes closed, you dive right into it. You know how to kiss and it would have been stupid to think that Reid himself doesn't. He does, but you would have never imagined that the first time you kiss him would feel like that.

It is fierce and harsh and bruising, you lean in but he pushes you back, and it strikes you that this right here seems almost angry. Reid is angry. Nothing gentle, nothing teasing about his tongue in your mouth. It is quick and dirty in a way you have never experienced and he tilts his head and tightens his grip and his fingertips dig into your neck.

You feel like you just started, like this thing is just about to get really good, when he pulls back and all but slams his hand on the center of your chest to stop you from following. And his eyes are burning, throttling you.

'This!,' they scream. 'This, okay? This is what it's all about! This is what you chose to ignore! I can't be just your friend anymore, so stop pretending like you wouldn't know what the problem is! You started it! And I can't just go back to normal!'

He tells you all this without even opening his mouth, but it takes so long for you to read it that he has enough time to close up right in front of you. You don't hold him back when he turns around and leaves, hissing quietly because he notices the coffee he spilled over his hand. But he doesn't do anything about it, walks around a corner and disappears. You are left behind with a coffee stain soaking your shirt and the feeling that what happened just now took a whole other route than you previously intended.

The wet spot on your hip grows cold rapidly and in a corner of your mind, you realize that you probably should change. Can't have you run around in a coffee drenched shirt, SSA Morgan.

But the walk back into your office runs very much on autopilot, all very mechanical, because your mind is completely empty, your thoughts filled with Reid. You don't cross paths with the genius on your way back (he is probably visiting the restroom), and then the door closes behind you and you yourself change your shirt with a spare one from your Go Bag.

That kiss just now, it was… you are at a loss. It was pretty rough, wasn't it? You had your fair share of rough in your life already. Not that you would complain because it can be exciting at times and that is not the point. The point is that you (of course) have thought about how it would be like to kiss Reid. And never was there an image that resembled what you have just experienced.

Or more accurate: an intensity like that didn't match a situation like that in your head. Sure, there were kind of rough settings in your mind and time and again your were that close to actually just go for it, when an Unsub hit too close to home and it wasn't sure for a moment or two that all of you would make it out safe and you were once more reminded that the time you have is limited.

But then there was always Hotch or JJ or Emily or even Rossi and it simply never… happened.

And now, just like that, the genius walks up to you and blows your mind like a friggin' hand grenade. And doesn't even give you enough time to react to it.

Unfair, isn't it? And congratulations, Derek, this thought comes only approximately half an hour later. Way to go. Taking a look at the clock on your desk, you decide that it is time to call it a day, to get a coffee with Reid somewhere and to settle this stupid thing once and for all. And you will be damned, if you let him or yourself talk you out of this.

Taking your jacket and your bag, you leave your office for good for today. Your eyes find Reid's desk in the bull pen immediately and they find it empty as well. Prentiss is still there, along with some others, and you casually walk up to her, bag hanging over your shoulder.

"Hey, princess," you say to get her attention and she looks up, seemingly glad to see you.

"Oh, a knight in shining armor," she sighs with a tired grin, cupping her chin in her hand. "You came to rescue me from these papery fiends?" she asks and waves a handful of case files and you chuckle.

"Those little fuckers are everywhere, huh?" You lean against her desk.

Another huge sigh, merging into, "Like you wouldn't believe it. Seriously, there's no end in sight." You laugh because you can relate to that. The same goes for you and probably everyone in the Bureau. Days like that are a little strange, because they make you feel like you are not directly needed to fight the evil out there. But you know for a fact that it is always there and you prefer to fight against it personally, face to face

"So, where's Boy Wonder?" you ask and nod to his desk that doesn't look like he is just off to the restroom somehow.

"Left already," Emily says with a shrug. "He and Rossi have this lecture tomorrow, so Hotch told them to go home and rest to prepare. You know the drill."

"Yeah, I know but rest from what?" It is not like you have much to do without being out there and chasing bad guys (and crazy chicks, occasionally). Right now, you feel slightly frustrated, for whatever reason.

"What do I know," she murmurs and you lift your ass off her desk. "Bu- whoa, wait! You're taking off, too? At least take some of mine, will you?"

You don't reach for the files she offers you. "Sorry, girl, I'm busy tonight," you say with a grin.

"Oh? Who's the lucky lady?" she calls after you and you wink at her, both of you knowing that you never tell (too much). But the smile she elicited from you falters almost the second you turn your back on her and head for the elevators. Really, that guy again. You bump a fist against the call button, thinking that no matter how clumsy Reid is at times, if he wants to, if he needs to, that Kid can be as quick as a flash.

Not on your watch, though. Most definitely not. Running away is not an option and Reid will accept this fact, when the both of you stop acting like some prepubescent kids.

Whipping your phone from your belt, you dial Reid's number blindly, sitting on number two of your speed dial after Hotch, but your call goes directly to voice mail and you hang up just as Reid's voice tells you to, "Leave a message after the signal." Dammit. Is he trying that hard to avoid you?

But wait. In the top left corner, the display shows a little note for the day. When you want to read it, you notice that there is nothing, it is only a little reminder without information, and it takes you just a second too long to realize that it is the third Wednesday of the month

That means movie night.

Shit.

There are certain unspoken rules for this thing called movie nights. On movie nights, you don't go to Reid. On movie nights, if at all, Reid comes to you. You don't know why he seems to feel better leaving the shelter of his home after the movie, but you are glad that he chooses to come to you. Once or twice, you remember, Reid told you that, actually, he wouldn't have a problem calling his movie nights by its real name in front of you, but somehow he thinks you would expect him to make some sort of a secret out of it. Or maybe he thinks he needs to protect you from too much knowledge. He tries to meet standards you never set in the first place

By now, though, he is used to it and his movie nights are just that, and everyone involved (in that case, it means you and him) knows what to expect.

Exhaling slowly, you lean your head against the cold surface of the elevator, feeling a lukewarm spot in the pit of your stomach. This is weird, and you don't think Reid will come to you tonight. Your plan to get some takeout and pay him a visit ended up in smoke.

Looks like you are damned after all.

The night is spent in the living room on the couch in front of the TV with beer and pizza and a tingling at the back of your neck. You rub that spot to get rid of it but it only crawls lower and settles between your shoulders. Anticipation for something that is not about to happen. And you know it. But still, you hope for something different and so does Clooney. He toddles from the living room to the kitchen and back, close to the front door and around the couch, until half an hour before you head off to bed he jumps on top of the couch and puts his head in your lap and dozes off.

It is just the two of you tonight.

And when you enter the bull pen the next morning, the sight of a missing genius is more prominent than it has any right to be. The day crawls by and your frustration grows bit by bit because nobody calls your team for help and you have to spend your time by reading case files and writing reports instead of catching guys who think they have any right to kidnap children or slaughter human beings or wallow in whatever way they choose in vigilante justice.

Garcia stops by for some chatting and around the early afternoon, when you get coffee with Prentiss, the senior profiler of the pack and the resident genius return to the fold.

"Predico a nuora perche suocera intenda," you hear Rossi say with all the raspy Italian charm his voice has to offer, and he strolls through the bull pen and holds a cup of some expensive looking coffee to go.

"Ye-" Reid, walking half a step behind Rossi, stumbles and almost drops his own cup of some expensive looking coffee to go. "Yes, that's exactly my point! And it's the same with urban legends, they are originally based on the same concepts."

"I know, kiddo," Rossi replies calmly. "I've read that book, too."

"Yeah, yo-you were actually coauthor, so it's only natural that you've read it," Reid says and blinks the way he always does when someone states the obvious for no clear reason.

"Exactly", Rossi says with a short but intense stare that tells Reid and everyone else that the matter is over.

Emily and you observed their entrance and emerged from the break room in the meantime to greet them. "Welcome back," Prentiss calls and Rossi nods and Reid shows her a quick smile. "How'd it go?" she asks and you gather around her desk while Reid heads for his own.

And Rossi tells how it was quite the usual, how the audience was quite interested in what they had to say and how he successfully prevented one of Reid's engineer jokes at the very last moment and therefore saved the progress of the lecture without too much awkwardness. Reid pulls a face, mumbling something about good jokes and that he is very well capable of those, and you think that it was nice to spare Reid the awkwardness because it is already enough of it waiting here for him.

After a few minutes the group disperses with Rossi in his office and Prentiss at her desk. Reid has long ago finished his coffee, throws the cup away and is about to get another one. You look at each other for a long moment, before you wordlessly take your leave as well.

Unexpected for Reid, it seems. "Uhm," you hear him hum behind you, bowing his head, and it holds all the restlessness you feel within you and every back and every forth of the past few days.

Stop acting like a brat, Derek. "Uhm," and you turn around to face him once more, "by the way, how was the movie?"

Reid blinks again and nods slowly. "Uh, yeah," he says, "it was… interesting. Instructive."

"Yeah?" He nods again, more at ease now, younger than before. "So you're okay?" He looks around for the briefest instant to see if someone might hear you. Then another nod and even without him saying yes, I'm fine you would have seen it in his face. It settles something inside you. "Good," you say, raising your mug to him. "Enjoy your coffee."

And you can almost hear the gears inside his head working overtime in a bid to figure out if there is any hidden meaning behind your words. Maybe he is wondering why you don't call him out on the stunt he pulled yesterday. Clearly, this is nothing that could be misunderstood.

But you return to your office without another word, taking a sip on the way, and you feel strangely calm as you sit down behind your desk again. All this not knowing where you two stand, all this fooling around, all this playing and backpedaling and wasting of too precious time will end today, on way or the other, and with that knowledge it is surprisingly easy to concentrate on your work and nothing else.

You do that until Penelope clocks out together with Lynch, until JJ leaves to get to her husband and son, until Hotch heads home for Jack. Prentiss and Rossi are gone, too, and when you leave your office with the file of Richard Costravo in your hands, there are not much agents left in the bull pen.

Just then, you see Reid walk through the glass doors, holding an armful of folders that belong in the archives (that is probably where he is heading right now), and you rush down the stairs, taking two steps a time, to catch up with him. Fortunately, he obviously stayed to catch up on the paper work he missed due to the lecture. Who would have guessed that it would take him that long?

"Hey, Reid," you call and push yourself through the swinging doors to follow him. He holds the folders in both his arms as he turns around. "Can I ask you something?" you want to know, waving Costravo as a sign.

"Uh, sure, what is it?" At first, he looks confused and kind of worried that he might have made a mistake concerning his work. But when you come closer without slowing down, he takes an unconscious step back – not to run away but to make room for you. You get to him with just a few quick strides and raise the file he is trying to reach for up to your heads so that its back rests on your left shoulder and Reid's right, hiding your faces from too curious stares and too accurate CCTV cameras.

The folders he holds are pressed against your chest in an uncomfortable way and in one swift movement you cup his nape and there is a silent puff of hot breath against your lips as you pull him close. A sheet of paper could barely fit between you.

You hold his gaze and see astonishment but no resistance, no rejection, and as you press your mouth to his and feel him press back and your lips move against each other as if, God, you have practiced this for years already, you let go of the thought that this might not be okay. It wouldn't feel like it feels if it wasn't okay.

Hiding your faces behind Costravo, you walk him backwards one step and another until his back hits the nearest wall and Reid breathes a muffled sound into your mouth. You tilt his head, changing the angle, and his muscles stiffen under your fingers in an attempt to come closer, so very much closer, when you push your tongue into his mouth.

It is quick and hard and unequivocal. There is a sharp intake of breath through his nose and the grasp around the folders tightens like a vise. His knuckles go white and heat crawls up your neck and the back of his head is pressed to the wall as you end it with one last firm kiss on his lips.

They are slightly parted and his eyes are closed and he holds his breath and you can almost feel his need to stop right then and there. But no stopping, no backpedaling, no tiptoeing around any longer. It ends now, for good and all.

And Reid knows that, and his mouth closes and he starts breathing again and his eyes open and search for yours and they hold every bit of uncertainty you have felt over the past few days. Weeks. Months.

You lower the file and light falls back onto his face. He swallows and his Adam's apple bobs. "You get it?" you ask him, placing Costravo on top of the folders so that he can take it back to the archives as well. You wanted to ask him something, right? Well, now you did.

His brow furrows and he licks his lips, saying, "I… I think so."

You take a step back and remove your hand from his shoulder. He doesn't meet your eyes again, looking like he is thinking so hard that there is steam about to come out of his ears, and you think he might need a few minutes so sort things out.

"I'm off then," you tell him, approaching the elevators. Mid-step, you turn around and continue walking backwards. "Don't overdo it," you call and he still doesn't move and you step into the elevator and the door closes and all that happens without him reacting in any way, until you cannot see him any longer.

This is it, right? Point-blank, short and crisp. You have made your point abundantly clear and now he can make whatever he wants out of it.

But you have to admit, Derek, you really have to admit that what you are doing here is pretty cheap. Pushing Reid to come to you even though it was Reid himselfwho made the first move to resolve this back and forth and gave it a general direction. But what would Reid have said if you were to just walk up to him and tell him that yeah, it is in a manner of speaking what you want, too, and that, from what you know, it is not very likely that you will cross paths with somebody who is going to get that close to you, to become that important to you again? Or at least, that you don't want anyone else to take that place, anyway.

And considering that actions are your forte and talking is Reid's strong point, considering that you two are profilers and considering that you have found weasel words for this as long as you can remember…

Maybe showing him that you want to blow his mind just as much as he blew yours isn't that wrong. Hopefully.

Clooney greets you excitedly at the front door, tail waggling and tongue dangling, and his urge to move seems to as bad for him as it is for you. So you get changed and get his leash and take him out for a jog. You are a little more careful now as well, keeping an eye not only on your surroundings but especially on other joggers with their dogs.

But everything goes well and when you return home, although you find it empty, you feel relaxed and a little more at ease, and Clooney is calmer, too.

The day ends with a hot shower, some reheated pizza from yesterday and a cold beer. You try not to be bothered by the fact that Reid didn't show up until now, and after Jason Bourne tells Pam Landy to get some rest because she looks tired (and you found that movie, even though horribly overblown and clichéd sometimes, to be kind of impressive and well done the first time you have watched it) you decide to do the same and call it a day.

Reid will come. You are sure of that. It is not possible that you have read him wrong all along. He will come. He just needs time.

But apparently not as much as you thought.

It is past midnight and your eyes open on their own accord. You are lying face down on your stomach, only in your shorts because you like how the sheets feel against your skin, and Clooney's ears twitch and a second later his head shoots up alertly, eyes fixing the open door in the dark. Another second goes by where you try to hear what Clooney hears and your body tenses involuntarily – it is instinct to expect the worst.

Then Clooney jumps off of the bed, leaving you once again after weeks of refusing to, and you imagine to hear the soft beep of your safety system – and there is not even a handful of people who know its combination. You breathe a smile into your pillow, contentment making your muscles go soft again.

And then, you wait.

That Reid has come here again is a step in the right direction, because by now you are actually very sure that you both are actually very aware of which direction that is. He wouldn't have come if this isn't what he wants, too. He wouldn't have kissed you. The question is whether or not he will come all the way to you tonight.

You would like that. But he doesn't have to. No need to jump the gun here. If he decides to take his usual place on the couch, maybe this is enough. But maybe, Derek, and you know that, maybe you should go down there and… talk? Or whatever would be appropriate for the situation.

But before you can get yourself to move you hear a tiny creak from the lowermost stair tread. It stops when hesitance kicks in and you imagine Reid licking his lips, because this is pretty much it, and what do you do when this goes wrong?

Then another creak, probably the seventh stair tread now (it is always the first and the seventh one, always has been from day one – you are used to it, it is part of your home, makes it feel cozy), and Clooney's paws how they scratch across the floor. With one eye, since half of your face is still buried in the pillow beneath it, you peek at your bedroom door wide open and see Reid's shadowy figure pass by. Clooney is confused as he automatically heads for the bed already but Reid doesn't follow.

You hear the sound of a light switch and after the hall is dusted with light for only a moment, the door of the master bathroom slides close. A snort and the left corner of your mouth curls into a smile, and you probably doze off again because the next thing you know is that Reid closes the bedroom door.

From inside.

Not all the way, it stays a little ajar so Clooney can leave if he feels like it. You see, of course Reid is that considerate, even towards your dog.

Surprisingly enough, though, he who refused for weeks on end to leave the bed doesn't even really attempt to take the other half of it now. His forepaws touch the sheets but Reid hums a no and after a few seconds of orientating in your bedroom he leads Clooney to his place on top of a folded blanket (he never was fond of things like dog baskets).

After that, and it is kind of amusing, Reid stands next to your bed and looks down on it, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself. He is wearing PJ's now, at least some pants, and a plain white shirt, and his head is lowered but he doesn't meet your eyes, maybe because he isn't aware of you being awake.

In a swift and almost jerky motion with your arm you shove the sheets on his half of the bed (or the supposed-to-be-his half of the bed or whatever) aside to signal that yes, this is very much the place where he is meant to spend the night. It makes him jump the tiniest bit, the muscles in his neck twitching.

"-t are you waiting for?" you mumble, a sleepy rasp tinting your voice.

Reid shakes his head and slides into the bed next to you, slowly, carefully, and you turn with his every movement until, when he is fully settled, you lie on your side, face to face.

His eyes are downcast while he arranges the blankets around himself and gets comfortable. Moments of too loud heartbeats and too quiet breathing pass and then he looks at you and there is this small feeling inside you that isn't all that small anymore and you think that this is going to be okay. And all kinds of better than just okay.

"I thought you're sleeping," he says, words low to match the darkness around you.

"How could I be sleeping when I know you're gonna be here?" you ask with a lopsided grin.

"You're always sleeping when I come here," he states, a shade of bitterness making his smile pale, and you see something in his features that you probably have felt, too, somewhere along the way. "And you didn't know I was coming here."

"No," you admit, "bu' I was hoping."

He looks like he is about to say something and you wait. Eventually, he hums, neither approving nor disapproving, a simple acknowledgement. You move your leg tentatively and it is encouraging that he doesn't pull back and in the end, he even meets you halfway to cross ankles with you.

And once you start to finally connect somewhere, everything else clicks into place and happens on its own and it is easy to just go with it.

A toothpasty kiss that is sweet despite the peppermint and totally not like before where it was about shaking you up, about proofing yourself, and you don't know what will await you at the end, but you are sure that, with Reid, it going to be pretty damn good.

So you are trying to close the gap between the two of you in every way possible, and your hand finds his and his fingers slip through yours and he breathes a smile onto your lips, small and careful. "This is okay, right?" he whispers.

"Feels like it, right?" you answer, the soft skin of your mouth grazing his as you speak.

"We don't need to rush," he says quietly and he pulls back ever so slightly, to make room, to show that he doesn't want to corner you, being considerate to the core.

"Four years and you call it rushing?" you joke, but you are touched nonetheless. You cannot remember the last time someone would let you set the pace, not because you appear like someone who would take the lead but because here you are allowed to pull the brake.

Reid isn't smiling anymore, and as he looks at you he is completely open, so much that it hurts. "We need to talk about this," he says because this is his way to protect both himself and you.

And, "We do," you say, you know you have to. But not tonight. His hair tickles your forehead and the bridge of your nose grazes his as his toothpaste breath ghosts over your lips.

Tonight is as good as it can possibly be.

And that was about it. I leave it to you to imagine what's gonna happen after they decide to give it a shot.

I'm writing two stories currently and I don't know which one will be here first. I want to have something in stock before I start posting it here, but I will be back, eventually. So let me know what you thing about this one here.

Ta ta for now.