Short Stories: Morgan's Way of Handling Gossip and Jealousy [F!Morgan Version]

Morgan steals a glance at the detective, who is absorbed in a report, their fingers absently tracing their lower lip in a thoughtful gesture.

She follows the movement with her eyes before making a deliberate effort to look away, already knowing that this small action will burn itself into her mind and haunt her later.

The detective… complicates everything.

Despite knowing she should resist the allure of their presence and the effect it has on her, Morgan never does. Instead, she selfishly revels in every shared moment, savoring the magnetic pull they exert on her.

Especially now, in the cramped office adjoining the lab, where the few desks occupy almost all the space, leaving little room to maneuver, all she can think about is how having the detective here, alone in such a confined space, makes her wish this distance between them didn't exist at all.

"You were right." The detective's voice cuts through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. "We should send a request to conduct additional tests."

Even if the detective had remained silent, Morgan's attention would have inevitably been captured again, and she would have given it so willingly, selfishly seeking the detective's attention in return.

She can't fully grasp what the detective awakens in her, but the impact is so profound that it grips her heart with a force that makes her question everything—something she can't afford, knowing she will have to leave this town and everything in it behind.

Everything… including the detective.

It makes her feel… nothing. She knows she should feel nothing. Yet, the mere thought of how it all ends turns this nothingness into something strange. Heavier. Colder.

"Is everything okay?" the detective asks carefully, breaking the silence Morgan has allowed to stretch on, and she forces herself to nod.

"Just… thinking," she replies, watching as doubt flickers across the detective's face as they set the report aside, focusing their full attention on her.

Sensing their attentiveness, and knowing they genuinely notice and care, makes her heart pound slowly and heavily, each beat echoing a single, unanswered question...

What are you doing to me?

She realizes she has no right to ask this, yet she can't help but wonder how they seem to perceive every subtle shift within her, even when she can't fully understand it herself.

Being attentive is part of their job. And they're exceptionally good at it, she reminds herself, unable to suppress a small smile. "Just thought about how—"

Before she can finish, the door to the lab creaks open, shattering their moment and causing both her and the detective to turn toward the sound.

"Ugh, I hate overtime," one of hers—judging by their voice—colleague grumbles, and Morgan hears them step inside the lab.

Though the half-closed door of the adjoining office obscures their view, including their presence, she can still hear muffled footsteps from another person entering.

"At least we're getting paid for it…"

Suppressing a sigh, Morgan turns back to the detective, only to find their gaze already fixed on her.

"Looks like I stayed longer than I planned," they say quietly with a small smile, glancing at the clock.

"It appears so," Morgan responds, realizing it's time to say goodbye but finding herself unable to speak or even nod, holding their gaze in silence.

All good things come to an end, including moments alone with the detective. This one… and all those that will follow.

"Well, at least not everyone hates overtime..."

The detective nods to her, about to say what Morgan suspects will be a farewell when the same colleague who spoke earlier chimes in again.

"Take our detective, for example."

Those words make the detective shift their gaze back to the door, their impassive expression causing Morgan to involuntarily frown.

"If my superior were my lover, I wouldn't mind staying late in their office either," another colleague says slyly, causing Morgan to freeze.

...A lover?

"I don't get what the detective sees in Inspector Moreno," the first one continues with a hint of disdain. "Aside from her looks, maybe. But that sour face ruins it anyway."

The other colleague chuckles. "Maybe they prefer it rougher. You know, someone who helps keep them awake."

A venomous chill—sharp and cold—spreads through Morgan's veins, so foreign that she almost doesn't recognize it, leaving her detached yet acutely aware of an icy knot tightening inside her and the discomfort it brings.

This is wrong: them listening to it, and her being affected so deeply that she can barely breathe, even though she knows better than to believe the rumors.

Slowly, she pulls away from the desk and steps toward the door, determined to stop this. But before she can open it and reveal their presence, the detective gently grabs the sleeve of her lab coat, shaking their head.

The touch lingers longer than necessary, and when they finally let her go, it takes all her willpower not to stop them from doing so.

"Speaking of staying awake... I feel like I'm going to collapse from fatigue if I don't get some coffee."

"You'll collapse if you drink this crap the department's coffee machine makes. Besides, the cross-verification will start in fifteen minutes, and I don't want to be late."

"Come on, we both need it! It will take no more than three minutes. Besides, there's no one here yet anyway. We have time."

They sigh. "Fine." Morgan hears footsteps and the door opening. "But if we're late, you'll be buying me lunch for a month."

"Stop grumbling. You better—"

The rest of the conversation fades into the distance, and the quiet click of the door signals that they are alone again.

Alone, until those two or anyone else returns to the lab.

The detective takes a deep breath, breaking the heavy silence as they finally say, "I wish you hadn't heard that."

"I tend to ignore the rumors," Morgan replies slowly, and it's true—just as true as the fact that she can't ignore anything about the detective.

They lock eyes with her for a moment, searching her gaze intently before pulling away just enough to create some distance. "Please don't do this again."

Her gaze trails the detective's retreating motion, her fingers twitching as she instinctively shoves her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, trying to hide the icy grip of something beyond her control. "Don't do what again?"

The detective closes their eyes tiredly. "Don't try to help me with this. I didn't want you to get involved," they say, meeting her gaze once more. "Besides, it's not like either of us can change the rumors. And why should I, when they aren't true?"

Morgan pauses, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time, realizing how tense she had been.

They aren't true.

For a moment, Morgan simply watches in silence, her heart pounding heavily, resonating with their words, their tone, their intentions...

I don't want you to be involved. But she does. 

She longs to get closer, to reach out, to surrender to the intense pull she feels. All the things she should never allow herself to do, yet the desire is a strong, undeniable need when nothing else matters but them.

And, just like always, she doesn't resist this time either.

.

.

.

"There is something that can be done," Morgan says thoughtfully, her expression impassive as her eyes briefly flick to the wall clock.

You shake your head. "I doubt it. It's impossible to silence people."

"Impossible, yes," she replies after a brief pause, her eyes locking onto yours. "But that doesn't mean we need to silence them."

You freeze as Morgan moves closer—closer than ever—slowly reaching for you. Your eyes follow her hand as it drifts toward the table, her palm coming to rest dangerously close to where your hip touches the edge.

A wave of anticipation spills over your body, heat coursing through your veins as you return your gaze to hers, keenly aware of the phantom heat of her hand that doesn't even touch you, yet you feel it in every way.

As your gazes remain locked, you notice how the familiar soothing depth of her dark eyes now holds a steely, scorching intensity.

This side of Morgan… is new.

For a heartbeat, the tension between you builds, heavy and charged, and you almost reach out until realization hits you.

"Morgan…" you begin slowly, your voice strained, but you don't dare move. "If they see us, they'll talk even more."

"That's the idea," she replies quietly, and a wave of disappointment crashes over you as you understand her true intentions, wishing there was another reason for her actions.

However, before you can respond or move away, she continues, "Afterward, they'll talk about you being with me, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat, and you realize how Morgan does it to you again—amplifies all your sensations, pulling you in with her words, her gaze, her presence, leaving you wanting more.

"I already said that, Morgan. I don't want to drag you into this," you murmur, though your body betrays you by inching closer.

"Don't worry…" The corners of her lips twitch upward, but her expression remains blank as she adds, "It won't bother me."

"I know. But I don't want anyone talking badly about you," you say, hearing the door to the lab creak open.

Morgan tilts her head slightly, watching what you will do, never averting her gaze, never moving from where she stands, almost trapping you but leaving space if you wish to withdraw.

"All they can say is how much I enjoy working with you," she replies, her voice dropping to a whisper as she closes the remaining distance. "And it wouldn't be a lie."

Her words cause an electrifying thrill to wash over you, and you stay where you are, enjoying the heat of her body against yours, letting that be your answer.

As you hear footsteps approach closely, you realize the door is about to open; Morgan doesn't break eye contact, and just for a second, you catch the subtle, pleased curl of her lips before the door swings open.

"I guess we—" The lab technicians freeze, their eyes widening at the scene before them. "D-Detective? Are we—"

You turn to face them, finding their shocked expressions completely worth it.

Morgan moves first, slowly pulling her hand away, and you step back, creating as much distance as the cramped space allows.

"It's okay. I was just leaving," you say, throwing a quick, meaningful glance at Morgan.

She meets your look with something unspoken that sends another wave of excitement through you.

Reluctantly, you turn away, walking past her, acutely aware of her gaze following you the entire way.

Thanks to Morgan, you have no doubt that the staff's gossip will now be focused on a whole new topic.