What Have You Done Now

-Mother Earth

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He knows he shouldn't have said it. Not so soon after, not at all really. It was only a fight, but Derek has no idea how to fix it.

He knows he shouldn't have yelled, not at Reid. Never at Reid, but his possessive side has the worst possible timing. It all started with a bar, and ended with a tear.

"You know I hate going to clubs," Reid complained for what seems like the fifth time, but Derek paid him no mind. His attention was focused solely on what his lover was wearing. A sinful sweater vest (the wool just painted on), mismatched socks (is it hot in here?), and—it was hard for him to think about without causing discomfort to his tighter than usual pants—his tie. Oh the things Derek Morgan dreamt he could do with that Gryffindor tie….

"Derek!" Spencer, tired of being ignored, but not ogled, yelled out.

"It's not a club, Pretty boy, it's a bar. It isn't my fault if there happens to be a jukebox and people happen to be dancing," shrugging off any guilt, Derek turns to empty his beer. "I'll be back, you gonna be alright by yourself? After what happened last time?" He let the sentence hang, but they both remember last time. A different scene entirely, that time they were actually at a club, and a patron—a drunk off his ass patron—got a bit to close to Reid for either of their comfort.

"I'll be fine, you can't not GO (he emphasized the word, too embarrassed to utter the word pee). In fact, the University of Michigan did a recent study showing that men between the ages of 24 and 39 are more prone—" Derek turned around and headed to the john, Reid's statistics, however horny they made him, would only prolong his need to relieve himself.

"Love you too!" Reid shouted, as he turned to face the bar again.

He'd only been gone five minutes, the line unusually long for a men's bathroom, but when he found that chestnut head of hair that he adoringly runs his fingers through hourly, his mood went from content to pissed.

Harry Fucking Scott-Reid's ex. Ex-boyfriend, Ex-lover, no matter how you put it, Derek wasn't having any of it. This is the little shit that Spencer dated after the Hankel incident. He's never talked about Harry before, but with a simple (and slightly nude) picture of himself given to Garcia, it was no trouble getting this guy's history. Apparently they met in a narcotics anonymous meeting—enough said.

"Babe, what you up to?" Derek slithered around Reid to place as much of his body over his lover that was publicly acceptable—mostly an arm here a chin there, but it all said one thing. Mine.

With a bewildered look, Reid introduced his….friend, "Morgan this is Harry, he's my—" Before he could even get the words out, Harry answered, knowing a challenge when he saw one. Bring it.

"I'm Harry," he reaches out an arm, "Spence and I go way back, but I'm sure he's told you all about our …escapades." A smirk graced his unfortunately good-looking features.

The night could have progressed fine, if not a little testosterone overdosed, but fine nonetheless. Scott just had to push it. At the utterance of escapades, Morgan noticed the dick's hand moving, every so slowly, up Reid's thigh. Never mind the fact that Spencer himself was about to push said hand away. It was enough for the agent.

In retrospect, this next bit might not have been the best course of action. Not at all.

With reflexes only thought to be instilled in Jackie Chan and Jet Li, Derek's hand was crushing the offending limb so fast, no one even had a second to blink. The bar was still it's buzzing self, barflies were flirting their ways to free drinks, and the locals all drank themselves away, but no one noticed this particular disturbance. "You touch him again, you even think about him I will have you on the FBI's most wanted list. Harry Scott, terrorist, pedophile, murderer, the list goes on. "

Together, the three made quite a sight—if anyone was paying attention that is. Harry with his eyes so bugged out he looked to need medical attention. Reid his usual skittish self, not knowing what the hell is going on, and Derek Morgan, the fierce lion protecting his own.

"We're leaving Reid," shoving Harry against the metal railing of the bar, Morgan grabbed for Spencer and dragged him out the door. The parking lot was, thankfully, empty. Dropping his lover's hand Morgan started to pace the lot, and if he had any hair there's no doubt he'd be pulling it out by now.

"Der—" Spencer couldn't even managed a full syllable, before the man's anger exploded, a rush of rage that swept over the entire lot.

"What the fuck Reid?" Derek, never one to yell or get in anyone but an unsub's face, was uncomfortably close to Reid, and the words—however wrong they were flowed.

"It was nothing Derek, just an old friend," timidly Reid tried to diffuse the situation. Morgan knew he wasn't pure when the met, but right now is not the time.

"Harry Lee Scott, D.O.B. 8/23/82, son of Lisa and Rupert, arrested for possession and intention to sell. Do I need to go on?"

Silence, not even the crickets dared to disturb this.

"How do you—"

"We're the FBI Reid, what don't we know. I get jealous easily Reid, but Harry? What, did he want a buddy to get high with? Or was he making a deal, a fuck for some dilaudid? That's all he sees you as Reid!" Morgan was beyond pissed, that fact was simple, but all the anger boiling inside of him evaporated. His insides seemed to freeze, knowing just what happened.

"Babe—I'm sorr—"

Whack! Morgan's taken punches in his life, even been to the ER for some, but this one, no mater how ineffectual, hurt the most. "You don't get to be sorry! What the fuck Derek? How could you be so…What would make you—An IQ of 187 and I can't even yell at you properly."

Reid never cursed, thundered roared, probably to keep the world from hearing his anger. Running his undamaged hand's fingers through his hair, slightly damp from beer and the start of the storm, Reid spoke "Fuck you." Derek sat immobilized; it was too painful to move. To others it might seem like a simple fight, but Morgan knew the truth. Everyday Reid regrets his addiction, every damn day. Not only did he kick a man while he was down, he kicked him deeper down.

Watching Reid walk away, and there was nothing he could do except watch as their tears mingled with the rain drops on the ground.

He knows he shouldn't have said it. Not so soon after, not at all really. It was only a fight, but Derek has no idea how to fix it.

He knows he shouldn't have yelled, not at Reid. Never at Reid, but his possessive side has the worst possible timing. It all started with a bar, and ended with a tear.

He will fix this, there's no question about it. Getting his wits back together, Morgan will fix this. All he needs to do is find his, hopefully still, lover.

"I'm sorry Prettyboy, I'm an idiot."

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A/N: One more chapter and then I PROMISE some fluff! I listened to this song, and once again angst popped into my head. Yay me. I'll listen to some upbeat music next...I got it Animals by Nickelback. Y'all review and I'll create a happy ending, sound good? XD

Review!