Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: A Waking World
by Frogg
Morgan stretched a little, arching his back; his book dangled from one hand, thumb keeping his place. The trip home from Anchorage was too. Damn. Long. A caught breath made him still, settling back into his original position and glance down.
Bleary hazel eyes looked up, dazed and less than fully awake. A quiet, interrogative grunt asked a half dozen questions.
"Sorry, Reid," Morgan said, voice soft in deference to Reid and the others. "We still have..." and he checked his watch. "An hour and a half or so before we land. You're welcome to go back to sleep, I'll get you a pillow if you--"
Another grunt, this time negative in tone, answered, and Reid pushed his head back against Morgan's free hand, where it rested against the nape of his neck. 'Pillows don't give neckrubs,' Reid was saying, too exhausted to bother with words.
Chuckling quietly, Morgan stroked Reid's hair, letting the heavy silk sift through his fingers. "Understood."
Reid purred contentedly, a soft rumble of sound as he scrubbed his cheek against Morgan's jean-clad thigh. Then he curled up tighter, knees brushing the back of the couch, and stilled again, eyes closing in sleep.
Morgan felt the weight of curious gazes upon him as he went back to his book, free hand idly petting Reid's hair. He shrugged mentally and ignored them; he had nothing to explain or apologize for. And thankfully, nothing he needed to hide.
Not yet, anyway.
And, he hoped and suspected, not ever.
end