Morgan and Reid are acting like a couple of lovestruck preteen girls who can't quite get up the courage to pass their 'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' notes and Hotch has officially Had Enough. It's time for this to end.

He doesn't want to know why Morgan can't seem to stay in his own office for longer than five minutes at a time anymore. He doesn't want to know why two of the finest agents he's ever worked with are spending more time making goo goo eyes at each other than they are putting profiles together. And he really doesn't want to know why Reid is suddenly carting around a ridiculously large supply of pens and lollipops in his bag or why he only seems interested in sticking them in his mouth when Morgan's in the room.

It was one thing when Morgan was just watching Reid whenever they were in the same room and Reid was just a little too quick to blush whenever the older agent did things like call him pretty boy. But now? Now it's effecting their work and that's Unacceptable. Which is why the two of them are standing in his office, either genuinely not noticing the way that they're leaning in toward each other or doing a damn good job of pretending they don't, watching him with increasingly confused expressions as he sternly stares at them and tells himself that he really does have to have this talk with them. He does. Any second now.

Maybe it isn't too late to get David to do this instead. After all, he has more experience in this area than Hotch does, and now Hotch is just trying to rationalize things and he really needs to just say this and get it over with.

God, this is going to be fucking awkward.

Reid jumps, actually physically jumps, when he clears his throat, and that makes Morgan start back up with the 'aren't you just the most adorable little profiler ever' looks. And that right there is exactly what Hotch has been talking-or rather not talking-about, so he clears his throat again, giving Morgan a pointed look as he does.

"It's come to my attention that there's been a certain amount of...tension between the two of you lately."

Reid makes a strangled, choked noise, his entire body going rigid, and his eyes are suddenly very intent on the bit of wall just behind the top of Hotch's right ear. Morgan's eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest, every inch of him ready to go on the defensive.

"I had hoped," he continues, carefully ignoring their reactions, "that you would manage to work out whatever problems you've been having before a meeting like this became necessary. That doesn't seem to be the case though, so I want you to listen to me very carefully because I never want to have to say this again after today."

Hotch is pretty certain that Reid hasn't actually blinked since he started talking, so he focuses on Morgan, taking his short, jerky nod as a cue to continue. He clears his throat again and reminds himself that he's doing this for the good of the team.

"Your work is suffering. You've both been absent minded and making careless mistakes, and what work you do produce is not up to the level that you've proven you're more than capable of. With our job the way it is, we can't afford to be anything but the best. It's goes beyond just being irresponsible. It's dangerous." Morgan's gone so tense that Hotch can easily see the veins in his arms and neck, but when he opens his mouth, Hotch holds up a hand to cut off whatever argument he might make.

"No, Morgan, it's true and you know it. So far neither of you have made any serious mistakes, but that's more because of the competence of your teammates than the effort you've been putting in. I don't care what's going on between you two, there's no excuse for your recent behavior." Morgan looks mutinous and Reid looks slightly green. Hotch sighs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the frown line between his eyebrows.

"Look, off the record? If the two of you were to hypothetically pursue some sort of romantic entanglement, then, as someone who understands what this job can do to you, I would advise that you take as much happiness as you can wherever you can find it. You're both smart, discreet men and I'm certain that your current lack of professionalism is just a momentary lapse in judgement that would not carry over into an actual relationship, right?"

Hotch pauses and looks between the two men. Reid still isn't moving, but Morgan's scowl has slipped, replaced by more than a little bewildered shock, which would almost look funny under different circumstances.

"That said, as the SAC, I cannot condone any fraternization that has been brought to my attention," he says with a meaningful look at Morgan. "And I will not tolerate anything that I think will be detrimental to the team. Now, what's going to happen is that I'm going to go to lunch. I'll be gone for exactly thirty minutes. No one will bother you in here during that time, but I expect that everything will be worked out by the time I get back. Understood?"

Morgan's jaw has gone slack and his eyebrows have climbed so high that Hotch absently wonders if it hurts. And Reid...Hotch doesn't think he's even breathing anymore. Which is now officially Morgan's problem, because he's decided that their silence counts as agreement.

Hotch doesn't actually flee his office, but he comes pretty damn close.

Spencer's desperately trying to remember how to breathe, because Hotch had noticed and he had been right, his work hasn't been as good as it should be-not that it's been bad, but he's definitely just been going through the motions-but more importantly, Hotch's noticing means that there is something to notice, because Hotch wouldn't have said all that unless he was absolutely certain, right? After all, Hotch isn't the sort of man who makes mistakes.

Spencer has been doing a series of experiments-tentatively titled The Effect of Cylindrical Objects on Derek Morgan when Inserted into an Oral Cavity-and all of his data points toward the conclusion that Morgan really does want him like that, but the thing about experiments is that they're fallible and he wants to actually know before putting himself in a potentially cataclysmic situation.

Oh, look at that, he's remembering how to breathe. Now if he can just remember how to breathe a little slower, because, while he isn't a medical doctor, he's almost positive that he's hyperventilating. He jumps and squeaks a little when Derek's hand lands warm and heavy on his shoulder-because this day hasn't been humiliating enough already-but his breathing starts to slow almost immediately, and Spencer has the fleeting, not quite coherent thought that maybe attractive biracial men should be tested as a cure for panic attacks.

"Hey, kid, look. About what Hotch said," Morgan starts, not quite looking him in the eye. And maybe Spencer isn't as good at reading people as Derek is, but he does know how to spot suppressed hope when he sees it. And you know, today's already been so embarrassing that he's kind of stopped caring, so before he can find out what Derek thinks about what Hotch said, he grabs a handful of the other man's shirt and yanks him forward, mashing their mouths together. It's awkward and sloppy and a little bit painful where their noses and teeth collide, but after a long, stunned moment Derek slants his head to the side and his hand slips from Spencer's shoulder to the back of his neck. And then they're kissing and Morgan's nipping at his lower lip and the hand that isn't on his neck is sliding up between his shoulder blades, pressing him close against Derek's chest and, holy fuck, why hadn't Spencer tried this experiment sooner?

And then Derek does a sort of flicking, swirling thing with his tongue that's so distracting that Spencer finds himself bent backwards over Hotch's desk with no clear memory of how it happened.

Hotch's desk. Oh. Oh shit. They're in Hotch's office. That's not...good God, Derek has a talented mouth. Spencer's head lolls back as Derek licks his way down his neck to suck on his Adam's apple and he sees a photo of Hotch with Jack and, oh, right, this is a really, really good idea in a really, really bad location.

"Morgan," he says, the word turning into a whimper halfway through when Derek scrapes his teeth over Spencer's collarbone-when had his tie and the top few buttons on his shirt come undone?-and he tugs on the back of Derek's shirt to get the other man's attention. Unfortunately, that seems to give Derek the wrong idea, because he leans back just enough to start pulling his shirt off and Spencer scrambles to grab at his hands and stop him. "Wait, no!"

Derek gives him an unreadable look, the heat-ohsweetfuckinggodtheheat-in his eyes starting to cool and asks "No?" in an equally unreadable voice.

Spencer makes a small, distressed noise in the back of his throat and strokes his hands over Derek's arms and chest, because he really doesn't like that look or voice. "No, no, not no," he stumbles over the words in his desperation to make Derek understand. "It's just that we're in Hotch's office and it's a bad idea. Not that I think we're a bad idea! Not that I'm presuming that there's even a 'we', because we haven't talked about that or anything and I'm not exactly certain what it is we're even doing here!"

Derek's lips quirk in fond amusement and the fire is back in his eyes, making Spencer's blood simmer. He takes a step back and Spencer pushes himself up so that he's sitting on the edge of Hotch's desk. "I kinda thought that was obvious, pretty boy."

Spencer can feel his cheeks burning and a shiver goes through him at the loss of Derek's warmth, but he makes himself look Derek in the eye and continue. "I mean, what exactly do you want out of this? If there was a 'we', what would you be looking for?"

Derek's gaze is gentle as he reaches out to cup Spencer's cheek. "Everything. I want you telling me statistics about things I've never cared about and eventually being comfortable enough around Clooney that you'll actually pet him. I want your body next to mine when I fall asleep and when I wake up. I want to hear you moan and feel you writhe against me and see the ecstasy on your face as you come. I want holidays and growing old together and fighting over the remote and stupid jokes that only we get and forever." He pauses, his expression going a little uncertain, and he strokes Spencer's cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "That's what I want, but I'm willing to take anything you're comfortable giving."

Spencer's lips form a soft, silent 'oh' and he leans into Derek's touch, his throat suddenly tight. "That, uh, that sounds pretty good to me." That might just be the biggest understatement of his life. "And maybe you could, uh, come over tonight? To, you know, talk about this some more?"

He can't stop his lips from curling into a smile when Derek gives him his 'I'm a very strong, intimidating federal agent and you will not fuck with me' look and asks, "You want me to come to your place? Tonight?"

Spencer nods, not really trusting himself to talk because there's a better than good chance he'll tell Derek that he needs to get back on top of him since Spencer's suddenly realized that tonight is way too far away.

Derek tugs Spencer back in for another hard, fast kiss before walking backwards toward the door. "Tonight," he repeats firmly, quickly striding out of the office before either of their resolves can crumble. Spencer leans back on his elbows for several minutes, trying to even out his breathing and calm his pulse. He mostly succeeds, but he still can't keep the huge grin off of his face as he walks back out to the bullpen.

When Hotch gets back to the BAU, Morgan's holed up in his office, Reid's going over a report at his desk sporting a grin on his face like Leonardo da Vinci and Albert Einstein just came back from the dead to have a science powwow with him, and the files on his desk aren't at all the way he left them. They're messy. Strewn. A couple are on the floor.

They...surely they wouldn't have.

Right?

To his credit, Hotch only briefly considers pulling on a pair of latex gloves before he starts to put his office back in order, all the while reminding himself that he Doesn't. Want. To know.

I have tried to know absolutely nothing about a great many things, and I have succeeded fairly well. ~ Robert Benchley

Kristin: Hotch totally thinks in capital letters and secretly believes in the power of True Love. It's left over from when he lived in San Francisco with his first wife, Dharma, working as a lawyer.

So, I know I said that I was done, but lagolindari over on livejournal mentioned that she'd like to see Morgan's POV on Reid and his lollipop and now I kinda want to see that too. Anybody up for some delicious side fic? If it happens, then I'm gonna call it The Effect of Cylindrical Objects on Derek Morgan when Inserted into an Oral Cavity. I know, I know. You just wish your titles were as sexy as mine.

Thank you so much to everyone who's commented and encouraged me on this fic! Feedback always makes me ridiculously happy.

Also, the very awesome Leslie Rebeka B.S.L. offered to translate this into Spanish. Isn't she just the sweetest? You can find the translation here: http://www[dot]fanfiction[dot]net/s/5932493/1/The_Mouths_of_Babes_Traduccion

UPDATE: While I'm beyond flattered at the number of people who've added this story to their alerts after this past chapter, I would just like to clarify that the main arc of the story is over. There will be at least two more shorts written in the universe, but they will both be posted individually. Also, while I agree that whatever happens between the boys 'tonight' would be the logical next chapter in the story, I'm really not comfortable writing smut, and, after months of UST, that chapter would be nothing but smut. Sorry to disappoint! Maybe someday.

UPDATE 2: Like The Mouths of Babes? Check out it's prequel, Touched, where Derek's just realized that his feelings for everyone's favorite doctor might be slightly less platonic than he's always thought!