Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ah, the wonderful world of Texas. Hot air, awful humidity, sweat soaking through his clothes and causing it to stick to his skin. He even had to pull his hair up — a rarity for him. It was hell — and he hated it.

The only positive thing about Texas was that all of those things were also happening to his very hot coworker.

Morgan was currently standing in front of the map where his geoprofile is, staring at the vast expanse of field that Spencer had determined was where the UnSub was hiding out. There were barely any buildings on the map — a few houses scattered about, with vast expanses of field in between — but Spencer was barely paying attention to that fact. No, instead, he was much more focused on the way Morgan's shirt hugged his biceps. It was unfairly distracting.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, for him), they were called off, told to head off and search the area of his geoprofile.

Morgan gave him a brilliantly wide smile. "Hey, Pretty Boy, why don't you come with me?"

Spencer slung on his bag without a second thought.

It was amazing how fast the weather can turn, in a state like this. One moment, it was hot and humid, the sun beating down and burning his skin, and the next moment, it's pouring rain.

His shirt is soaked through to the bone, hair dripping as he and Morgan race across the field towards the abandoned barn a few meters away. The wind is screaming, bending the few trees in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Morgan slams into the barn door, twisting the bar up and over and shoving the door open, beckoning Spencer inside. Spencer races in behind him, letting out a shaky breath as Morgan forces the door shut behind him.

Spencer can't help but let out a bewildered, "What the fuck?"

Morgan lets out a burst of laughter as he lays a piece of wood against the door, stumbling down onto the floor as he lets out a big breath of air. "You said it, pretty boy. What the fuck?"

The barn they're in is small, maybe around 120 square feet — it was really more of a storage shed than a barn, but hay covered the floor, and Spencer could smell the faint remnants of chickens. An abandoned coop, then.

"Is the weather always this weird?" Spencer questions, pulling at his shirt as he tries to unstick it from his body. A shiver travels down his spine as water drips down his back.

Morgan looks up at him, playfully grabbing his wrist and pulling him down onto the ground next to him. "Ah, it's not that bad, Reid."

Spencer frowns. "Morgan, we're stuck in the middle of nowhere during a torrential downpou—"

It's at that moment, of course, that they both hear the terrifying, but distant, screams of tornado sirens.

Morgan's eyes widen. "Shit."

Spencer flinches as a crack of lightning lights up the gloomy sky. Morgan pulls him in, running his hand over his shoulder. "Hey, hey, it'll be alright, pretty boy. It'll be alright."

The howling wind rattled the flimsy walls of the barn, chunks of hail slamming against the wooden frame as a constant steady of rain drummed against the walls. Spencer's teeth clacked together — the temperature had already dropped, and it didn't help that his clothes were soaked through. He didn't like this, being stuck in this cramped, abandoned chicken coop, with a storm raging on only a few meters away. His hands fisted his sleeves, his arms wrapping around his body as he pulled his knees up, effectively rolling himself into a little ball. The constant thunder and loud, screaming wind made his ears hurt.

Morgan looked down at Spencer, eyes narrowed like he was heavily considering something, before he easily hoisted Spencer up and in between his legs, wrapping his arms around Spencer as he pulls him flush against his chest.

Spencer squeaks — thank the Gods that the wind is too loud for Morgan to hear that particularly embarrassing noise. His heart is pounding in his chest — now for a completely different reason.

"Better?" Morgan asks, his breath warm against Spencer's neck as he rests his chin on his shoulder.

It takes Spencer a few good seconds to force his brain to focus on Morgan's words, and not how absolutely wonderful it feels to have Morgan's body pressed against his, before he can answer. "Uhm–y–yeah, yeah, better. Th–thanks."

"Of course, pretty boy." Morgan murmurs, his voice barely audible above the storm.

It's easier to relax, with Morgan holding him like this. The tension in his body lessens, even as another crack of thunder has his eyes screwing shut tightly.

They both fall into a relatively tense silence, Morgan's grip tightening on Spencer during another loud clap of thunder.

The wind picks up, going from an almost–soft howl to a defeaning scream, and Spencer can feel his heart drop.

Morgan scrambles up, tries to push the barn door open so they can get a better look outside, but Spencer grabs onto his wrist, shaking his head as his eyes widen in panic.

Morgan pushes Spencer down against the floor, boxing him in underneath his body.

There's one thing they never tell you, about tornadoes — and that's how defeaningly loud they are. It sounds like a bomb going off — the wind screaming loudly as the barn walls shake.

Spencer watches in horror as the roof begins to peel off, wincing as debris is thrown against the wall that they're next to. Rain pours into the shelter, hail falling onto the soft hay below in punishing sheets.

He can barely hear Morgan shout, "STAY DOWN!"

Everything is a hazy blur of panic and fear, Spencer's heart pounding in his chest as the tornado ravages the barn they're in.

Spencer's heart drops when he sees as rock careening towards Morgan's face.

"MORGAN, WATCH—"

Too little, too late. The rock slams into Morgan eye, causing him to cry out in pain before he collapses on top of Spencer. Desperation to make sure his coworker — his friend — is okay overrides any logical thinking Spencer holds. He tries to move, to push Morgan up and off of him, but the man is heavy.

A heavy chunk of wood goes flying, slamming against the wall, pinning him and Morgan tightly. Spencer lets out a yelp of pain as the sheet hits his shoulder.

"Morgan!" Spencer shouts, shaking his shoulder, "Morgan, please— Morgan, Morgan— wake up—"

Morgan groans, and Spencer lets out a sigh of relief. The tornado has already passed them by, and amazingly, they're both relatively unharmed.

"Morgan, I need to check on you, please." Spencer babbles, lifting up his hand to brush against Morgan's forehead. Morgan winces in pain.

"I'm fine," Morgan groans, "I'm fine, I just got hit in the head—"

"Yeah, which can mean many things, especially a concussion!"

"Shu' up." Morgan mumbles, lifting his head. Spencer's breath catches in his throat, his hand gently reaching up to brush over the cut over Morgan's eyes.

"Oh, angel–" Spencer murmurs, retracting his hand as Morgan winces.

"I'm okay, pretty boy, really. I'm okay. Tis' just a flesh wound," Morgan jokes, even a blood trickles down his temple.

"No, you're not," Spencer chokes out, "you're bleeding. You got hit in the face with a rock that was thrown by a tornado."

Morgan pushes against the wood plank, watching as it thuds down on the hay. He sits back, allowing Spencer to scramble out from underneath him.

Before he can even really think about it, Spencer leans in, grabbing Morgan's chin and tilting it down so he can get a better look at the cut over his eye.

Morgan can't help but stare at him, admiring the way his hazel eyes sparkle with concentration as his brows furrow. His thumb brushes gently against his cheek as he studies the wound.

"It doesn't seem so bad," Spencer murmurs, holding up a finger, "can you follow my finger for me?"

The words leave Morgan's mouth before he can really process what he's saying, "Anything for you, pretty boy."

Spencer stills for a moment, face flushing a brilliantly beautiful shade of red. "Uhm–ha–right, right."

Morgan follows the movement of his finger anyway. Satisfied, Spencer sets his hand down. "Doesn't seem like you have a concussion, Morgan."

Morgan just stares at him. The sunlight has started to filter in through the holes the tornado tore through the roof, bathing Spencer's body in a beautiful glow. His curly hair catches the light, and maybe Morgan is concussed, maybe that rock did a bit more damage than thought possible, because suddenly, Morgan is surging forward, kissing Spencer like his life depends on it.

Spencer lets out a little whine as Morgan tugs at the back of his head, tilting his mouth so he can kiss him harder.

When the two of them finally leave that busted up barn, Morgan limping with Spencer's support, they're both a miles happier than when they entered.

No one bothered to mention the fact that Spencer and Morgan were absolutely covered in hay and drenched in sweat. Why would they? It just looked like they'd survived the storm.

Nothing more than that.

Spencer kept closer to Morgan, after that. If anyone overhead him calling Morgan "his angel", they failed to comment on it.