What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life ... to strengthen each other ... to be at one with each other in silent, unspeakable memories?
- George Eliot
Derek remained in Las Vegas for three days after their first kiss. For three days they spent every waking moment getting to know each other all over again. They explained the positions of their current lives and where each other could now fit into them. Oddly, it was never suggested that Spencer return to the BAU, never suggested that he uproot the new life created for himself. In fact, Derek almost immediately decided to do so, instead. His reasoning was beautiful and profound in it's simplicity; Momma is in Chicago and they can visit when they get the chance. Diana Reid is in Vegas, so why not stay?
Reid grabbed Morgan by the face at that and kissed him until their lips were sensitive, swollen and aching with it. In Reid's mind, Derek is not -perfect- but he's pretty damn close.
Six days after Derek returned to the BAU, he appeared on Reid's doorstep, surrounded by luggage and a few boxes. It was official. Agent Derek Morgan transferred to Las Vegas and they began their life together.
That was four months ago. They have not lived in perfect bliss, that would be impossible. They have already had two major fights that ended with Derek sleeping on the couch once, and Reid driving around for five hours straight to calm down, once. But still, they are so unbelievably happy with one another. It has all the hallmarks of a new relationship without all of the fumbling to get to know each other. Having been best friends for years, they are already well familiar with the good and the bad of one another. Of course, this also means that they have a habit of accidentally pushing each others buttons. Thankfully, they have not reached a moment where they have intentionally done so.
For the first time in four months, they now find themselves separated. Had they had a choice in the matter, they of course wouldn't be. But, orders are orders, so when Morgan was ordered to attend a seminar in Texas, they had no choice. After all, Reid still has to work and could not simply take off to follow his boyfriend to another state. He tried. He looked through every regulation possible to find a loophole but in the end, he had kissed Morgan goodbye at the airport and then headed into work, prepared to endure a five day separation.
The five days go something like this:
Come home from work, send Morgan 11 text messages that say the same thing in 11 different ways; I miss you. Eat something light for supper, read a book, and then force himself to crawl into his cold, empty bed.
Wake up the next morning, down a full cup of coffee before showering, dressing, and heading into work. Forgetting breakfast because Morgan wasn't there to remind him. Deal with Detective Matthews and his childish jokes about Morgan being gone and having a chance to 'steal' Reid. Coming home, more text messages, another lonely night in bed. Lather, Rinse, repeat.
By day four, he feels like a zombie powering through the motions of a previous life he can only barely remember. Who would've thought four months would be enough time to get so ingrained in a routine with a significant other, that the absence of them for just a few days would turn the entire world into a hard to navigate alien landscape!? But then, he had never fully envisioned himself in a serious relationship, especially not with his best friend. So, he had never really had to contemplate missing someone that much before!
Arriving home from another day of wanting to flay Matthews alive with his mind, he tosses his keys into the dish by the front door, secures his gun and badge, and then kicks his shoes off. A routine that Morgan had established for them within two days of moving in. Reid had been surprised how freeing and calming it was. Simple little steps to immediately separate work from home. If asked, he'd say Morgan is a genius, were he given to quantifying such things.
He pads into the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the thought of eating something. So far, it's mostly been stopping and grabbing something quick when he can remember. He glances at the pantry and heaves a sigh. Right, time venture into there, then. It's not that he doesn't know how to cook. He had to learn the basics growing up with an ill Mom, it's more a matter of he just doesn't want to. What's the point of cooking for one? He yanks the pantry door open, fingers trailing along the wall until he can flick the switch and flood the room in light. His nose wrinkles again at the scent of the room, hands flying through the air to run across the boxes, cans, and other items. He stops when the edge of his thumb snags on something angular and flat. Carefully, he draws a box of yellow rice down, a stark white envelope falling to the ground. He stares at the foreign object for the longest time, trying to reconcile why there's an envelope on the floor.
It takes several moments for him to make out the fancy script on the front that reads My Baby Boy. He has brought the box up until he's holding it like a shield, still staring at the thing. He's not sure why. It's not a weapon or something sentient that will jump up and attack him. But it is, however, something Morgan had left him. When? The only conclusion he can come to is that it was hidden right before Morgan left for Texas.
He lunges forward and scoops it up, squashing it against the box of yellow rice as he practically runs from the pantry and back into the kitchen. Box and envelope end up on the counter top next to the stove as he grabs a pot and goes about getting it on the stove with everything he needs. He's now moving at a mile a minute speeds, ripping the box open with trembling hands, gaze straying to the envelope every few seconds. Normally, he would've opened it already, but he's forcing himself to go the food route first, while he remembers. He would be far too side tracked by whatever Morgan has written to go through with cooking and of course, he knows that his boyfriend would be disappointed in him for doing that.
Once the water boils and the contents have been poured from the box, he leaps up, onto the counter top, legs crossed Indian style, and rips the side of the envelope open. He carefully pulls the paper out, biting his bottom lip as he stares at the folded pieces for a long time. So long, in fact, that he curses under his breath as he grabs a spoon from the drawer below him and stirs the rice frantically while he carefully smooths the letter out on the counter beside him.
Baby Boy ...
I'm guessing you'll find this somewhere between my third and fifth day gone. Because it will take that long for you to break down, put away the take out menus and go for your damn yellow rice. How many times do I have to tell you that rice is -not- a meal, Spence!? Though, I would be lying if I said that your stubborn streak isn't something I love about you. Because I do. I love so many damn things about you, Pretty Boy.
Now, I'm hoping you are doing me the courtesy of -not- speed reading this. Sometimes you need to slow down and take things slow, baby, and this is -definitely- one of those times. Because I got a lot to say, Spencer Reid, and I want to make sure you're taking the time to take it all in.
I love you. I know I don't say it enough. I expect you to just -know- it the way you know how many tomatoes the average American will eat in a year or how fast fingernails grow after we die. I bet you just said both of those facts out loud, despite being alone. Something else I love about you.
I know I said I got a lot to say, but now that I'm actually trying to write this, it's harder than I thought it'd be because if I'm not careful, I'll just start writing everything I love about you and this will be nothing but pointless mush and I just cannot allow pointless mush out there with my name attached. You'd never let me hear the end of it. Of course, if situations were reversed, I'd never let you hear the end of it, either. That's just us.
And the thing about us .. is that we work, Spence. We know the bad as well as the good. You know about Buford, and I know about Alexa, your Mom. When things got bad, when we were faced with the worst situations, we could always turn to each other and that ain't ever gonna change. How many people can say that about their partners? Business or personal?
I can say with confidence that you are the best thing that ever happened to me, Spencer Reid. Sure, your big ol' brain annoys the hell out of me, and sometimes I want to shove my hand over your mouth to make you be quiet, but I wouldn't change a single thing about you. Not for all the richest in the world. Not even if I was guaranteed World Peace to change you. I guess that makes me a selfish bastard, but I just love you too much.
Don't forget to stir your rice, baby boy.
Reid yelps and grabs up his spoon, quickly reaching out to stir the rice, grinning stupidly as he does. He can't help himself. Morgan knows him so well! He yanks the pot off the burner and quickly turns it off, leaving the spoon in it for now as he leans back and picks the paper up to settle it in his lap and eagerly continue reading.
If we have to throw out another pot because you got distracted, I might actually scream, Pretty Boy. That would make, what, five pots in a few months? I didn't even mess up that many when I was a kid! But, at the same time ... I love it when you get distracted, baby. Don't matter what takes your attention. The way you look! That far off gaze in those big, open eyes. The way you bite your bottom lip or the inside of your cheek. The way those long, strong fingers start moving. You will never repeat this to anyone, I hope ... because you're a symphony of motion, a tapestry of action and even back before we got together, I'd catch myself just ... staring at you. God, how did you not figure me out sooner?? I could've sworn my eyes left some kind of imprint they were on you so long, so often. Maybe I was hoping you'd get the hint and I wouldn't have to make the first move, but I should've known better. You're too much like me, baby. We don't trust easy and we don't move fast, not when it truly matters. We spent so long circling each other, trying to suss each other out, but we got there in the end. I think that's all that matters.
Because I just, I can't picture it, you know? A life without you in it. I'm going to be miserable every morning when I wake up and you aren't in my arms. This was going to be a secret, and I doubt you've even noticed, but I stole your t-shirt. That silly Doctor Who one that you only wear when you're feeling tired and cranky. Because I knew I was gonna miss the scent of you, so it's here, with me, a reminder of the man I love.
Well, the hope of this not getting mushy just went right out the window. I found myself searching something the other day and making a list. It's stupid, ridiculous, so much mush that I could drown in it, but I still did it.
Afrikaans - Ek het jou lief
Albanian - Te dua
Arabic - Ana behibak
Armenian - Yes kez sirumen
Bambara - M'bi fe
Bangla - Aamee tuma ke bhalo aashi
Belarusian - Ya tabe kahayu
Bisaya - Nahigugma ako kanimo
Bulgarian - Obicham te
Cambodian - Soro lahn nhee ah
Cantonese Chinese - Ngo oiy ney a
Cheyenne - Ne mohotatse
Chichewa - Ndimakukonda
Gaelic - Ta gra agam ort
Georgian - Mikvarhar
German - Ich liebe dich
Greek - S'agapo
Gujarati - Hoo thunay prem karoo choo
Hiligaynon - Palangga ko ikaw
Hawaiian - Aloha Au Ia`oe
Hindi - Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae
Hmong - Kuv hlub koj
Hopi - Nu' umi unangwa'ta
Hungarian - Szeretlek
Icelandic - Eg elska tig
Ilonggo - Palangga ko ikaw
Indonesian - Saya cinta padamu
Inuit - Negligevapse
Malay - Saya cintakan mu / Aku cinta padamu
Malayalam - Njan Ninne Premikunnu
Mandarin Chinese - Wo ai ni
Marathi - Me tula prem karto
Mohawk - Kanbhik
Moroccan - Ana moajaba bik
Nahuatl - Ni mits neki
Navaho - Ayor anosh'ni
Norwegian - Jeg Elsker Deg
Pandacan - Syota na kita!!
Pangasinan - Inaru Taka
Papiamento - Mi ta stimabo
Persian - Doo-set daaram
Romanian - Te iubesc
Russian - Ya tebya liubliu
Sindhi - Maa tokhe pyar kendo ahyan
Sioux - Techihhila
Slovak - Lu`bim ta
Slovenian - Ljubim te
Swahili - Ninapenda wewe
Swedish - Jag alskar dig
Swiss-German - Ich lieb Di
Surinam - Mi lobi joe
Tagalog - Mahal kita
Taiwanese - Wa ga ei li
Tahitian - Ua Here Vau Ia Oe
Tamil - Nan unnai kathalikaraen
Telugu - Nenu ninnu premistunnanu
Thai - Chan rak khun
Welsh - 'Rwy'n dy garu di
Yiddish - Ikh hob dikh
Yoruba - Mo ni fe
60 ways to say I love you, Baby Boy. One for each minute in every hour that I think about you. There, you now have something ultra sappy to hold against me and I don't even care, because it's true.
Now, I have to admit that I had a few ulterior motives for this. First off, there's a reason I asked you to read this at normal speeds rather than your 20,000 words per minute. Mainly, because timing is everything, baby boy, and I am hoping to god I timed this right. Because, you see, I've got a hell of a question for you, baby.
Dr. Spencer Reid .. Will you --
Reid yelps in surprise, turning the pieces of paper over again and again, as if the rest of the letter will magically appear or something. He has an odd fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach and he feels wobbly despite the fact that he's sitting down. He carefully sets the letter on the counter next to him, exhaling a deep breath that causes his bangs breeze against his forehead before he grabs the edge of the counter and prepares to launch himself off. When he looks up, he jerks backward instead, eyes wide in surprise.
Because Derek Morgan is kneeling on the ground in the kitchen door way, a black velvet box open in his hand.
"Dr. Spencer Reid .. will you marry me?" The voice he has come to crave in so many ways is deep, trembling a little with nerves and full of so much hope that Reid nearly falls right off the counter in his haste to get to his feet and rush toward his boyfriend.
"Not even yeah, Der, but HELL YEAH!" He shouts the words in excitement before tackling his boyfriend, or rather fiance, onto the ground as he wraps himself around Derek and proceeds to kiss him senseless. "A thousand times yes. Hell, I'll even accept in multiple languages!" Derek tips his head back, laughing deeply, happily, at the exuberance from his fiance.
"Nah, that's okay. English is enough, Baby Boy."