A/N: A bit slow to start (sorry), but I put WAY more innuendos in it than I was anticipating. Enjoy! And don't forget to tell me what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts so I know how to improve! Thanks so much!

Derek Morgan almost wished he didn't cook for Spencer so often.

But he loved to cook, and he was very good at it. It was a trait he had received from his mother, and, of course, he didn't reject it. Being able to come home from work and actually want to provide yourself with proper food that had actual nutrition wasn't something Morgan could complain about. It only made sure that he got the strength he needed, and Morgan knew for sure that he wouldn't be able to sustain his career as a fast-paced FBI Agent on microwave dinners and cereal.

Cough, cough. Reid.

Spencer Reid, the genius with the eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, couldn't cook if his life depended on it. (Which just explains why the man was so thin.) And that was why he needed Morgan.

But at that moment in time, Morgan wished Reid would just honestly learn to cook on his own. Or at least offer to wash his own dishes for a change.

Morgan let out a sigh as he finished drying the last of the dinner dishes and set the pan in the strainer beside the sink. Before Morgan and Reid finally started dating - another story for another time - Reid didn't even have a dish strainer by his sink, because he never used anything that required washing. Paper plates and bowls, and plastic forks and spoons. Perfect for microwave dinners and suitable for quick bowls of cereal. The only thing Reid ever cleaned before Morgan came around was his coffee pot and a few coffee cups, but all he really did was rinse them out and reuse them again immediately.

Derek Morgan wiped his hands on a dish towel - also a new addition to Reid's apartment since Morgan's romantic arrival - and looked at his work with satisfaction.

Cooking for Reid was always worth it because the poor thin man never knew what the hell was going on. Morgan wouldn't allow Reid into the kitchen until everything was done; he just let the delicious scents waft from the kitchen to the living room, and Morgan could almost hear Reid sniffing curiously from the other side of the door.

And once Morgan finally put the food on the table. . . . You'd never seen a happier man child.

Speaking of the happy man child, Morgan brushed the still-slightly-damp palms of his hands absentmindedly on the thighs of his pants as he pushed open the kitchen door. The dinner that night'd been a doozy; it'd nearly taken Morgan half-an-hour to finish all the dishes, while happy-go-lucky Reid was sitting just beyond the door, oblivious to Morgan's endeavors for a successful date.

Reid looked up when he heard the door open and he smiled. "Hey."

"Whatcha up to, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked, sitting beside his boyfriend on the couch.

Reid looked back at the book in his hands. "While you were in the kitchen doing the dishes, I started reading this fascinating book -"

"Reid, I've been in the kitchen for all of thirty minutes," Morgan said. "How far could you possibly have gotten?"

"I'm about a quarter of the way done," Reid said, weighing the number in his head as he gazed at his finger bookmarking the page. "Give or take."

Morgan took hold of the spine, gazing with slightly bugged-out eyes at the title of the book, but not feeling altogether surprised. "Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions -"

"And the Quest for the Ultimate Theory, yes," Reid said quickly. "It's a bit different than what I usually read; I haven't read much about String Theory, but I've had the book for quite a long time. I've just never really gotten around to reading it, as I have so many other books that I've had but never had the time to read before. But I figured it wouldn't take you too long in the kitchen and I wouldn't want to get too caught up in what I was reading, because then I wouldn't be able to focus on you anymore!"

Morgan blinked a few times at the rapid succession of words flowing from Reid's mouth. "You'd be thinking about . . . String Theory?"

Reid pondered for a moment. "It's a possibility. But as I was saying, this book is fascinating because it compares every day sights and situations that humans experience without a second thought to our modern knowledge of physics and the universe!" Reid let out a quick breath that must've been a laugh. "The author, Brian Greene, actually compared modern physics to ants on a garden hose!"

Morgan nodded with a small smile. To be brutally honest, Morgan couldn't care less about how physics could be related to ants on a garden hose, but it made the freak genius happy, and it was nice to hear the younger man go geek-crazy over geek-crazy things. Reid had been dragged through traumatic events nearly all his life. He deserved time to ramble on and on about things that he enjoyed, and besides. Morgan liked Reid, and, even though he found nearly everything Reid liked to be extraordinarily boring, it was amusing and almost heartwarming to watch him try to explain concepts that would take Morgan years of study to understand.

Which was why Morgan decided to tune Reid's voice out a bit to just watch him talk.

It was only when Morgan's phone rang that the FBI Agent was finally brought back to reality. He jumped at the sudden noise and glanced down at his cell phone in annoyance. It was nine o'clock at night. Who the hell would be calling him? All his friends knew he was on a -

Oh crap.

Morgan sighed quietly as he said, "Pretty Boy, I'm sorry, but I need to take this. Hang on to your thought, though, I want to hear more about that garden hose when I come back."

Reid beamed up at him and nodded.

Morgan pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and disappeared behind the kitchen door. He sighed, clicking the accept button, and said, "Hey, Baby Girl -"

"Derek Morgan, where the hell are you?" was the angry reply.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot tonight -"

"Completely forgot?" Garcia sounded toxic.

"Pretty Boy and I had a date tonight, and -"

Garcia's voice softened immediately. She always loved a good romance. Especially if she claimed she caused it. "Aww, I just knew you two would be fantastic together! You're welcome, by the way."

"Thank -"

Garcia's voice grew harsher again. "But homoerotic excuses still aren't valid! They're much more fun, I'll be honest, but don't forget, you're still in huge-ass trouble!"

"Baby Girl, I'm sorry; I can still go out with you tonight, if you'd like -"

Garcia said almost bitterly, "Have you and Boy Genius finished your romantic night of passionate, heartfelt, sensual -"

Morgan laughed despite himself, pinching the bridge between his nose as he said, "We haven't exactly gotten to that part yet, but we did just finish eating dinner, so if you want -"

"Eating dinner, eh?" Garcia interrupted cheekily. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Penelope," Morgan warned. Even though nobody could see him, he was still feeling a bit embarrassed. "Reid is in the next room; if he heard what you're saying right now -"

"Oh, I'm sure he'd be nice and red," Garcia said with a laugh.

"And he might want to kill you," Morgan added. "He carries a gun, you know."

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Garcia dismissed immediately. "I'm at, uh," Garcia paused for a moment, before returning, "I'm at Oasis. The one on 32nd street. I'll be standing outside waiting for you, Morgan; be here in fifteen minutes. And bring Junior G-Man!"

"Baby Girl, Spencer might not -" Morgan sighed as he lowered the phone from his ear. He hated when Penelope Garcia hung up on him.

Morgan rubbed his forehead, hesitating before leaving his safe, quiet sanctuary that was Reid's kitchen. Because let's face it: Reid would never agree to go to a club on such short notice. If one of the team members wanted to drag Reid to a club, he'd have to be warned a few days in advance so he knew exactly what he was walking into, because Reid and clubs? They didn't match. And it wasn't that Reid just didn't like them; clubs generally didn't like Reid, either. It was a mutual dislike and, if Reid stayed a minimum of 100 ft away from any club, the poor FBI Agent would be safe. So, ultimately, Morgan had one decision to make that could breed two possible results:

1. Leave Reid home and go to the club with Garcia and feel guilty the whole time for abandoning his date on what was supposed to be their date night, or

2. Leave Garcia at the club with Prentiss and JJ to stay home with Reid and feel guilty the whole time for abandoning his friend on what was supposed to be their night on the town.

Either way, Morgan messed up royally, and he was about to simultaneously fix and destroy something.

"Pretty Boy?" Morgan called into the living room, pausing before entering the room completely. "I've got some bad news."

Reid looked up with wide eyes. Reid didn't like that phrase; it had always scared him more than was acceptable for a full-grown man. He watched as Morgan sat down on the couch beside him before speaking. "What happened?"

Morgan smiled softly, putting hands on either side of Reid's head and kissing him on the forehead. "Nothing like that, I promise. It's just - I got a call from Garcia, and she's not exactly happy at the moment."

Reid let out a breath of relief, fixing his hair. "Why? What happened?"

"Well," Morgan paused again, "I may have made plans with the both of you tonight."

The extremely thin man sat thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "Meaning?"

"We were going to go clubbing tonight, at this place called Oasis -"

"The one on 32nd? Did you know that that club has the highest rate of accidental injuries than any other club in D.C.?" Reid asked immediately.

Morgan felt tempted to ask Reid how on earth he could possibly know that, (or, perhaps more importantly, why on earth Reid decided it was important enough to remember), but he figured it would take less time if Morgan just accepted the fact and moved on. He nodded. "Yes, the one on 32nd. But I forgot all about Garcia when you invited me over for dinner tonight. Well," Morgan added, scruffing up Reid's hair, "When you invited me over to make dinner for you."

"What?" Reid laughed, not even really trying to duck his head out of Morgan's reach. "I like it when you cook."

Morgan chuckled, leaning against the back of the couch like he owned the apartment. Which, considering what he had done to it since the two started dating, he practically did. "I know you do."

There was a unrequited uncomfortable pause before Reid said awkwardly, "So, um, are you . . . going to Oasis with Garcia tonight?"

Morgan cracked his neck absentmindedly. "Yeah, she told me to meet her there in fifteen minutes."

Neither man moved.

Reid cleared his throat. "So, if you're supposed to meet her there in fifteen minutes, does that mean you are going?"

"She told me to bring you, too, Pretty Boy," Morgan said, halfheartedly punching Reid on the arm.

Reid's eyes flicked immediately to Morgan's. "Did you tell her I'd be there?"

Morgan shrugged. "She didn't really give me a chance to confirm anything."

Reid almost wanted to both huff and roll his eyes. The entire conversation he was having with Morgan was like pulling teeth. It had gotten to the point where Reid was just going to have to ask blatant questions if he wanted any sort of answer whatsoever. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Morgan hesitated. "I know you don't like clubs."

"You're right, I hate them," Reid agreed. "But do you want me to go with you?"

Morgan hesitated some more. "I don't want to take you anywhere you don't want to go."

"Don't question dodge, Morgan," Reid warned.

Morgan sighed. "Alright, Pretty Boy, alright. Enough with the third degree. I'd like you to come with me, Garcia, JJ, and Prentiss to the club tonight. I think it'd be fun."

Reid paused for a moment in thought before lifting Morgan's arm and wrapping it around himself. He pressed the side of his head against Morgan's shoulder and said, "You know, one of the possible origins to the term 'the third degree' comes from the third level of Freemasonry initiation. The third degree is supposedly extremely difficult, rigorous and, in some cases, painful. The modern connotation adopted the term as a form of interrogation meant to intimidate the suspected criminal or an uncooperative witness."

Morgan smiled, resting his cheek on the top of Reid's head. "Is that so?"

Reid suddenly sat up and started talking very fast. "It's funny, because fifteen out of all forty-three US presidents were Freemasons and yet the average American has no idea what exactly these Freemasons stand for. It's one of those persisting mysteries in life. I'm not one for conspiracy theories myself, but you can't deny the overwhelming evidence of Freemason influence on the architectural design of Washington D.C. -"

"Reid, Reid," Morgan interrupted gently, patting his shoulder. "Not that I don't like listening to you rant on about conspiracy theories, but Garcia will kill me if I'm late."

The cheeks of Spencer Reid tinted pink. "Right. Sorry."

Morgan laughed warmly. "So, what do you think, Pretty Boy? Up for shaking that fine ass on the dance floor?"

Reid's cheeks exploded a delightful shade of red. "There are two things I'd like to say to that: 1) my ass is not fine." Morgan smiled; he found it so endearing and almost out-of-place whenever Reid cursed. Reid continued obliviously. "And 2) I'm a terrible dancer."

"You're not so bad once I knock a few drinks into you," Morgan said with a laugh. "And as for your fine ass..." Morgan looked Reid up and down and shook his head with a smile. "Mm, mm, mm."

Reid squirmed self-consciously, and hesitated before saying, "You have a fine ass, too."

Morgan blinked in surprise at that. It took a few seconds of processing, but once it had, Morgan began to laugh.

Reid watched him laugh with a smile. He'd always thought Morgan had the best laugh.

After a few moments, Morgan could feel his abs begin to swell, and he let out a breath to calm himself. He wiped a tear out of his eye. "Wow, Pretty Boy," he said, a few last-minute chuckles still escaping his mouth. "Didn't know you had that in you."

"Yeah, well. Hopefully, later, I can have something else in me," Reid said, inwardly smiling. He didn't say things like that very often; he saved them for when he knew they would affect Morgan the most. (Right then being a prime example.)

Morgan was so taken aback that it took him a few seconds to actually realize what Reid had said. "Damn, Pretty Boy, you got some mouth on you tonight."

Reid stifled a smirk and shrugged. "String Theory."

The older man leaned forward, pulling Reid in closer. "Can I see it?"

Reid raised an eyebrow, conforming to Morgan's body. "See what?"

"That mouth of yours."

Reid grinned. "Thought you're going to be late?"

Morgan waved him off. "I'm already late. She gave me an impossible time table."

The young genius leaned in, pressing a kiss to Morgan's lips gently. "Then we wouldn't want to keep her waiting any longer."

Morgan smiled. "We?"

Reid smiled back and nodded. "Yeah, I'll come. Someone has to stay sober, make sure you and the girls stay out of trouble."

"Sober, eh?" Morgan asked, rising to his feet and bringing Reid along with him. "We'll see."