A/N: Well, hello my lovelies, I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!

So, here we are at the conclusion of this story. I hope it won't disappoint; I always feel sad ending a story that I loved writing, but at least I can start a new one without feeling guilty!

Thank you to all who have stayed with me, and thanks to everyone reading. I deeply appreciate the reviews and thank you so much for the kind words and support. Until next time!

Love,

Seds

I woke up the next morning with Reid in my arms.

We'd stayed up late into the night talking and drinking, and somewhere along the way he'd stood up, wobbled a bit, and gestured toward his bedroom. He'd put an arm around me for support and we'd made our way there, then stripped down to our skivvies and fallen into the covers. I seemed to remember him giving me a sloppy goodnight kiss before passing out, and I guess I must have done the same. Now it was almost eight AM and the sun was persistently stabbing at my eyeballs; I reluctantly came to consciousness, aware of Reid's warm bony self pressed up against me.

I hugged him to me as I yawned and stretched.

"Hey, pretty boy," I murmured into his hair. "Good morning." He stirred and groaned, then shifted away from me, and I didn't like the cold air that suddenly came between us.

"Morning," he mumbled, digging his fingers into his eyes. He then shot me a hazy glance. "Hold on... How'd you end up in my bed?"

"Uh... You invited me. I think." The night before was a little fuzzy, at least the part after Reid said he loved me. Must have been for him, too, as he lifted the covers and checked that his underwear was still on. It was, and I was glad for that. I'd have hated for us to have indulged in some good old mattress-pounding shenanigans when I was too drunk to enjoy it. It had been so long since I'd felt his naked body under me, I'd want to recall every second of a thing like that.

"Oh, yeah. I... I think I remember that." A sleepy grin crossed his face. "I thought it was a dream."

"Nah. It was after you got all mushy and declared your love for me."

Reid laughed, then moaned. "Ow. Don't make me laugh, I've got a killer hangover. Anyway, I'd like to point out that you said it first."

I shook my head. "Doesn't sound like me. I'm an asshole, remember?"

"True. It's a grave character flaw, but..." He leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, smirking a little. "I guess I don't mind too much. As long as you meant what you said. About loving me, I mean."

"I meant it." I swooped in fast and kissed him and he laughed again. I started gobbling at his neck and Adam's apple, which made him yelp and weakly push me away.

"Hey, cut it out, I'm a bit delicate this morning. And I need coffee."

I pulled back and looked at him, disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, desperately in need of a shave... beautiful. I'd have given him anything he wanted, the blood from my body, the sun, the moon, the stars. Putting on a pot of coffee seemed like a little enough request—he already had my heart.

"I'll go make some." I started to get up, then I turned and said, "I really did mean it, kid. I love you."

His hangover grimace faded, and he smiled crookedly. "I love you too, Derek."

I squeezed his hand, then went to see if I could search out coffee-making necessities in his topsy-turvy kitchen.

After coffee and a bowl of corn flakes, we both felt better. Reid had the day off, and I didn't have anywhere I had to be, although I made a couple of phone calls and got appointments to talk with both Gideon and Hotch about a job. Reid checked on Penny and we were relieved to hear that the baby was apparently still happy to stay put inside her, and that she was in good spirits and would soon be sent home to Emily.

So, we spent the day in the cocoon of his apartment, not talking much, but still getting to know each other a little better just by being in the same room together. As afternoon came on, the sun landed on the living room couch where he was sitting, and it made the gold in his hair shine out among the soft brown strands, and I couldn't help but go to sit beside him so I could twist my fingers in it, run them through the tangled curls, pulling his face closer to mine for a kiss.

"I missed you," I said.

That must have hit a nerve with him because he gave me a sneer. "Are you asking for sympathy? Well, all I can say is that I wasn't the one who left—I was here all along."

That knocked me off my pegs a little. I blinked, then said, "Aw, come on, man. I thought you forgave me."

"I never said that, exactly... Here in the sober light of day, I'm feeling somewhat aggravated about it all over again, to tell you the truth."

I held his face in my hands and looked into his eyes. He had that look of deviltry, the one that let me know I needed to jump through some hoops pretty damn quick or I'd regret it.

"Listen, if you can't forgive me, maybe I can persuade you to forget." I stood up, grabbed his hands and tugged; he rose and let me lead him to the bedroom. He stood there with his hands on his hips, regarding me with a skeptical look.

"I don't know, you know what a good memory I have. Forgetting doesn't come so easily."

"Well then, maybe I can give you something else to think about."

He stared at me for a moment, then said softly. "Maybe. What have you got?"

I moved him over to the side of the bed. I opened up his trousers, pulled them and his underwear down and had him sit. I knelt in front of him, took his pretty cock in my mouth and proceeded to blow the hell out of him. He groaned, ran a hand over my head, traced it down the side of my face, fingers caressing me like a blind man reading Braille. Before long he was bucking into my mouth, pushing further down my throat, but every time I felt him getting close I pulled back—I wouldn't let him come.

He grunted in frustration, and I heard him hiss, "Goddamn it, Morgan—this isn't the way to get back into my good graces." I chuckled, and said, "Just you wait, pretty boy. You're going to be real happy with me before too long. Now, what do you have around here that we can use for lube?"

He gestured at the nightstand and I found something that would work. I stripped down, greased up my dick, and used my fingers to stroke him open, to press in, quickly getting him ready for me, or so I thought. He lay back and I gripped his legs higher as I plunged in hard. He was warm and tight, his little rosebud hole giving in to me as I pushed past his resistance. But he whimpered a little, and I frowned.

"Spence? Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I just... I haven't done this for a while. It's okay, don't stop." He smiled encouragingly at me, but I did stop and pulled out.

"Did I hurt you? God, baby, I—that's the last thing I wanted to do, I—"

"No, I'm fine, it was just a little moment of surprise. You're built like a blasted horse, you know, and a fellow gets out of practice." He had a rueful twist to his lips. "I mean—I haven't been with anyone else, you know?"

That kind of made my heart soar. I'd never let myself dwell on the thought of him with another man—I couldn't, it'd have rotted away what was left of my soul. But I never expected him to stand around waiting for me to come back. Now, hearing him say that, I realized he probably wasn't waiting at all, just didn't have the heart to go after someone else, but it made me feel good all the same.

"So, I ruined you for other men, eh?" I said lightly.

He fixed me with a hard look. "When you came along, I got a glimpse of what I'd been waiting for all my life. Afterwards... I really didn't see the point of settling for something less. So, yes, in a way, you ruined me." His voice dropped low. "More than you can imagine."

I felt my throat catch and I hugged him.

"Shit—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I—"

"It's all right. Honestly, Derek, it's all right. I really did understand why you left, you don't have to keep apologizing to me. It's just that understanding didn't make losing you hurt any less. I guess I'm still a little angry... about the circumstances." He brushed his hair away from his brow, and for a moment we were both silent. Then, the teasing look came into his eyes again. "Well, enough of that. Come on—let's get back to you making me forget a few things."

I didn't need to be told twice. I scrambled to the other side of the bed and pulled him along with me. I kissed him and kissed him, sucking at his tongue, his full lower lip, rolling my tongue inside his mouth and feeling him come back at me with his own. I nipped at his neck and shoulder, I lapped at his nipples, I made him moan and shiver. I held him so close, so carefully. This time when I pushed into him, I went slow and easy. I watched his eyes, and the second his brow drew up in what might have been pain, I stopped and waited before starting again.

He didn't say anything, but he looked like he appreciated it.

The thing was, in the dim light, he looked so young, so vulnerable—it was hard to remember he was an agent for the Feds, comfortable with a gun in his hand. To me, he just looked like a kid who'd pulled down his drawers for someone for the first time, and I began to feel like a selfish bastard for hurting him.

That got me to wondering what his first time had been like, how old he'd been, and who it had been with. I hoped whoever it was had taken their time with him, had made him feel good, treasured, the way I wanted to make him feel. And I was still selfish enough to hope, to really, really hope, that I would be the only one who'd ever get to hold him like this again. Suddenly, I realized he was wriggling around under me, bucking his hips upward like he was trying to get an old Ford flivver to turn over.

"Fuck. Come on, Derek—harder." Ha, definitely nothing innocent about the tone in his voice, a reminder that he knew exactly what he wanted from me and that I did know exactly how to give it to him. I clicked into gear, and soon we were going at it like old times. He had his legs wrapped tightly around my waist, his fingers digging into my butt, my shoulders, and I let go, no more holding back. God, he was so sweet—I'd been without the taste of him, his scent, his warm velvet skin against mine for too damn long, and I felt drunk all over again.

And, I loved him so much, my little piano player. I found myself babbling stupid things into his ear, and he just ran those hands, those long sculpted musician's fingers, down and over my back and, oh sweet Jesus, he squeezed me tighter.

I came harder than I ever had in my life.

Afterwards, we lay tangled together in rumpled bedsheets and the room was dark and cozy. We soon dozed off; at that moment, I didn't know what was going to happen for us, but it didn't matter. I wasn't worried, or afraid.

All I knew was that I was home.

Well, that was a long time ago.

Today, my stepson, Joseph Patrick Reid, is the spitting image of his daddy. He's grown into an amazing young man; he's brilliant like Spence, but has Penny's sweet nature and indomitable spirit. He and his pretty little wife are expecting their second child any day now, and I'm looking forward to being a granddad again.

I retired from the FBI a few months ago; once Gideon left, I sort of lost my bearings and that's not safe for someone in my line of work. I guess I never really got over that long-ago business in Harlem—Reid and I had gone to see a jazz combo and have a little dinner, when a couple of Rossi's goons sporting iron burst in and started spraying the place with their Chicago typewriters.

Thank God, Reid had seen them coming, and thanks to his quick thinking, we got behind a big heavy table and returned fire, taking them out before they could do too much damage. But afterwards, I found my boy had taken a slug in his leg. He almost bled out by the time we got him to a hospital, and I had a few hours to sit and consider what my life would be like without him.

I was pretty sure I'd just go home and eat lead, but then I got to thinking about little Joseph Patrick. He was just three at the time, and while I knew Penny and Em would raise him right without me, I figured he wouldn't ever understand how both his daddies could leave him like that, so I made the decision to stick around, whatever happened.

Thank a merciful God, Reid pulled through.

Now, all these years later, he doesn't get around so good; he complains a lot when the weather changes, and recently took to carrying a cane, but that's all right. There's more silver than gold in his long hair, and he has a look in his eyes that sometimes chills me to the bone, but most of the time, we have a good life, and now we finally have something we never had before—time.

We travel, play with our grandson, hang out with Em and Penelope, and lately, I've taken to learning piano.

Spencer'll sit by me, showing me chords, teaching me the notes. Sometimes he stands behind me and guides my fingers, and the scent of his hair or the way his hands feel on mine gets to me, and before we know it, we're on the couch with our pants down making love, just like back when we were feisty young stallions wrecking the sheets in some run-down hotel room.

Then, afterwards, we have to knock back a couple of ibuprofen and recover with a cup of hot tea like the old men that we are.

But, it's all good.

As long as he's sitting by my side, I'll play piano forever.

-The End-