A/N: I wrote this for 3 reasons: 1) 7x15 "A Thin Line" IMO completely ignored the elephant that is Reid and his waivers; 2) I don't think Prentiss was effective consoling Morgan; and 3) it shot the ideas I'm working on for "Reading Reid" all to hell, so I had to write this to fanwank it. I honestly don't believe Morgan's attitude in "A Thin Line" was anything like the attitude he gave Reid in the beginning, mainly because I'm a firm believer Hotch prepared the team for the uniqueness that is the super-genius, and in no way threw the kid in cold (or let the team receive him cold, for that matter).

A/N 2: I love catko because she is an ok cat; and no, however much I wish it, I don't own Criminal Minds.

Three hours after the jet arrived back at Quantico, Derek Morgan was still in his office, finishing up paperwork. Normally done by now, events had conspired in the last case to create an even larger-than-usual pile sitting on his desk, taunting him.

But that's what happened when an agent gets shot due to your negligence.

A knock - rapping out "shave and a haircut" - interrupted his thoughts. Before Morgan could call out "come in", the rapper in question strode through the door, plunked down at the chair across from him, and picked up the rainbow colored koosh ball from the small selection of toys on the desk specifically left out for the kid to play with.

Morgan ignored him.

Unfortunately, Reid wasn't to be ignored. "So..."

Morgan groaned and threw the pencil down. This was not what he needed right now. He hadn't actually thought the day could get worse. Clearly he was wrong. However, time had long since taught him that when Reid wanted to talk, no amount of force would stop him.

"Prentiss told you," Morgan stated flatly.

"She may have mentioned a certain training exercise from the other day, yes," the doctor confirmed. "Something about a cadet who screwed up, and a mentor who angrily reprimanded him?"

"You really don't want a ride home tonight, do you?"

Reid smirked, and ignored the feeble threat. "'Out there, in the field, 'Sorry' doesn't bring people back'," he lightly mocked.

Oh yeah, this was definitely a punishment from hell. Morgan bristled a little. "Look, I know I was harsh on the kid, but you can't tell me I was wrong. Prentiss getting shot today is enough proof."

Reid seemed to ponder that for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, still idly picking at the koosh ball. "So then are you punishing Emily and JJ as much as you're punishing yourself?" he finally asked.

Taken aback, Morgan's temper rose. "It wasn't their decision to split up, Reid," he snapped. "It was mine."

"They didn't split up," the young genius reminded him. "You did."

"And Emily got shot."

Reid looked down at the koosh in his hands. "I'm aware of the potential ramifications which can arise from a decision to separate from your partner," he said softly.

Morgan sighed and leaned back. His anger quickly drained at the memory of Hankel.

The young profiler read his mind. "It's not just Hankel, Morgan," he said earnestly. "We've all had times that necessitated an unaccompanied pursuit of a suspect. The Academy incorporates individual practice on clearing scenes, in addition to working with a team, for a reason. Even if JJ didn't back her up, Emily is still fully trained to handle such a situation alone."

"Exactly my point with the Valdez kid," Morgan insisted. "If you can't pass the training, you're a danger to yourself and to your team."

Reid smiled cockily and tilted his head.

Morgan quickly realized he'd walked straight into a trap. Dammit. The kid wasn't a genius for nothing.

Reid pretended to act as if he was searching his memories. "It's interesting," he began smugly, "but I don't recall you ever telling me ''Sorry' doesn't bring people back' when I was a cadet. In fact," he paused for effect, "as I seem to recall, your exact words were 'Don't stress about it; Rome wasn't built in a day.'"

Dammit, dammit, dammit. "You were different."

"No, Morgan, I wasn't."

Morgan really didn't want to get into this. "Yes, you were, genius."

Surprisingly, Reid suddenly looked Morgan straight in the eye, indignant. "You're justifying it was acceptable for me to graduate from the Academy without passing the physical requirements, since I'm a genius?" he demanded, incredulous. "That my IQ compensated for my ineptitude out in the field?"

"You know damn well you weren't allowed in the field until you proved yourself," Morgan hotly informed him.

The doctor nodded, satisfied. It was clear that was the response he wanted. Resembling a college professor about to lecture on his favorite subject, he wagged a finger in the air. "That's right, I wasn't. I didn't pass my training, or graduate fully qualified. I received waivers from the Academy instead. And what did you and Hotch do?"

Morgan knew he was beat. "We designed a program with specific targets you needed to reach before you were approved for field duty," he admitted.

"Yet you appear to expect the Bureau won't hold its other agents to a similar standard," Reid reproached, then shrugged. "Look, either Valdez will prove himself or he won't. He'll be trained satisfactorily, or he'll fail out of the Academy. Trust the system, Morgan. It works. And should the FBI decide they still want him despite his faults, I'm positive they'll see to it a sadistic torturer is put in charge of ensuring he eventually meets the requirements."

"I wasn't that bad," Morgan denied.

"Yes, you were," Reid told him, then raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Given the option, I would have preferred to have met the Academy's expectations than yours. They were easier."

Chuckling, Morgan closed the folder in front of him and stood, no longer interested in punishing himself by completing his inbox. The main paperwork had already been finished and turned in; anything left could keep until tomorrow. Pizza was far more enticing; pizza with a friend even better. Maybe he'd even find a game on the tube and force the kid to watch as retaliation. "Let's go grab some grub."

Perking up, Reid stood as well, and placed the koosh back on the desk. "Thai?" he asked hopefully.

"Nuh uh," Morgan grabbed his jacket and started to head out. "My pick, Einstein. I'm the one who had the bad day, not you."

As he exited the office behind his friend, Reid switched off the light. Following the older man down the ramp and into the bullpen, he brightly noted, "I just gave you advice, didn't I?"

"Reid," growled Morgan, exasperated.

"It was good advice too, wasn't it?"

Morgan's brisk pace never wavered. "Give it up, man."

The young genius was on a roll, however. "Perhaps we should mark it on the calendar. 'Here on this day, Dr. Spencer Reid gave Agent Derek Morgan -"

"You're not driving, Reid."

Reid deflated as he grabbed his messenger bag off his desk, and scrambled to catch up with his friend, now in the hall waiting for the elevator. "But I'm 30 now!" he argued, as the elevator doors opened.

Morgan's only response was to jangle the keys in the air as he entered the elevator. Reid obediently followed. As the doors closed, Morgan ruffled the kid's hair and teased, "So tell me, genius. When'd you get to be so smart?"