Chapter Text
They're looking at a new case in Dallas, Texas. Young gay couples are being killed brutally and the unsub is devolving fast.
"These aren't just hate crimes," Derek is saying.
"Are you sure?" JJ asks, "I mean this sure looks like hate crimes to me."
"I mean, yeah, the unsub is definitely motivated by hate but look at it." There's not actually very much left to look at. "This level of overkill? That's not just founded on them being gay. It's like there's some kinda level of personal offense here."
"You'd be surprised by how many homophobes actually feel personally offended by people just expressing their sexuality," Spencer says, looking up from the file he's reading. "But I agree, something about this says– I don't know, it's like he's blaming them for something. Whatever it is, all his victims being gay couples is not a coincidence. I think we can definitely call that a pattern."
Derek nods when suddenly something just clicks together, it's like the puzzle pieces just align before his eyes and it's all so clear now. He scrambles for the file, riffling through it until he finds the close up pictures of the crime scenes and there it is, at all three scenes.
"Look at this," he says to JJ and Spencer.
"What is it?"
"Here, the first couple," he points at a kind of drawing on the victim's hand. "And here, the same pattern on the second couple and the third." He shows them the pictures respectively.
"Like," JJ frowns, "like a stamp you get when you go into a club."
"Of course," Spencer says, "that's how he finds his victims."
"He picks them up at the club," Derek agrees.
As exhilarating as their discovery is, they're still a whole length away from finding the unsub.
"We need to catch him before he kills again," Spencer is muttering, pacing the length of the room they're set up in.
"And it's probable he'll kill tonight. He can't wait any longer," Emily says.
"We know how he finds his victims. We have to be able to use that knowledge against him," Derek says, brows furrowing in irritation. He hates not being able to do anything.
At Derek's words, JJ looks up from her notes suddenly.
"We know how he finds them," she says slowly, "Emily, I think I have an idea."
A little later, Hotch is telling them "I don't like this. I don't like this at all," as they present their plan to him.
"Hotch, it's the only way to stop him in his tracks. We know he goes to this specific club to pick out his victims," Derek says.
"And Morgan and Reid are the only two that fit his victimology. Young, attractive, charming," Emily adds.
"You're okay with this?" Hotch asks, looking directly at Spencer.
"What, me? Yeah, sure," he shrugs.
"Look, Hotch," Derek says, "you don't have to like it, but we both know it's the only way."
"No, you're right I don't like it.” Hotch’s mouth is a flat, displeased line, his tone even flatter. “Not if 'it' is two of my best agents playing bait for a violent serial killer."
"But you're giving your okay?" Derek presses.
"You're right about it being the fastest way," Hotch relents.
"Good," Emily says. "And now we just gotta get you boys club-ready." The grin on her face when she says that is positively terrifying.
Emily and JJ insist on looking through his and Spencer's clothes, declaring that they're “not capable of putting together an outfit anymore”.
“Just so you know,” Derek says as Emily rifles through his stuff, “I can do this myself.”
"No, Derek, you can’t," Emily says, holding up one of his shirts (actually, the last one of his shirts) and then discarding it just like the rest of his clothes.
"What– what's wrong with that shirt? That's perfectly okay," Derek splutters.
"Derek," Emily says, turning around and putting her hands on her hips. "Tonight you don't just wanna look 'okay.' You wanna look the best. We need to make sure the unsub picks you and Spencer."
And damn her, she's right.
There's a quick knock on the door of his hotel room and then JJ is pushing the door open, Spencer following behind her looking adorably like a chagrined puppy.
"No luck here, how about you?" JJ asks Emily.
"Nada," she shakes her head. "You know what that means, right?" Emily smiles.
"Shopping," JJ laughs and Spencer just barely stifles a groan.
They drive to the nearest department store and split u for maximum efficiency. Emily picks out shirts for him and he's pretty sure she gets them a size too small on purpose because when he tells her they don't fit she retaliates by bringing him an even smaller size. All the while she's talking to Penelope on the phone, relaying to her the embarrassing details of Derek's shopping escapades.
"Will you please stop laughing at me, woman?" Derek growls finally, huffing. He would cross his arms but he doesn't want to risk ripping the shirt.
"I can't help it, you're just so mockable," Emily grins.
"What, can your frail ego not handle a little mockery, cherie?" Penelope's voice sounds tinny from Emily's phone.
"Baby girl, please," Derek laughs, "save me from this cruel and unjust fate at the hands of Agent Prentiss."
"Hey Em," Penelope says instead of answering him, "promise you'll video call me when they get dressed, yeah?"
"Wouldn't let you miss that in a hundred years."
"I would say never let you two meet but–" Derek sighs.
"Too late," Penelope sing-songs and Emily laughs, head thrown back.
They do end up calling Penelope later, all four of them back in Derek's hotel room, him and Spencer getting ready for the night. Apparently they need help with that, too. Derek has stopped complaining and just admitted defeat. No one man can do anything against the combined forces of Emily, JJ and Penelope.
Emily picked out a pair of black jeans and a black button down shirt for him. He rolls the sleeves up and lets the top two buttons open, just like she told him to earlier.
"You ready out there?" he calls through the bathroom door and cheers answer him.
"Bring it on," JJ calls.
Derek opens the door, striking a ridiculous pose in the door frame.
"Oh my god," Penelope laughs and Emily wolf-whistles.
"Good job, Emily," JJ says.
"Thanks," Derek rolls his eyes.
"Shows that you can make something out of anyone," JJ keeps saying, as if he hadn't spoken, barely suppressing her grin. "It just all depends on the artist."
"Aw, you're too sweet," Emily coos.
This whole time Spencer is sitting on the couch next to JJ, shopping bag on his lap and pointedly hasn't looked up once. Derek glances at him from the corner of his eye and clears his throat.
"Shouldn't Spencer get dressed, too?"
"Yeah, you're right," JJ says. "Come on, Spence."
"Yeah, okay," Spencer mumbles, clearly uncomfortable.
"Hey," Derek says when Spencer walks past past him, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. No one's gonna judge you here, right?" He tries for an easy grin.
"Yeah. Right," Spencer says, but he doesn't meet Derek's eyes.
Spencer locks himself in the bathroom and JJ and Emily go back to talking with Penelope and Derek fiddles with his phone until Spencer's voice calls from the bathroom, "Uh, JJ? I have, no idea how to – "
"Come on, open the door. Let me see," JJ says and she disappears into the bathroom with Spencer.
"Hey, Derek," Emily stands up. "This is Hotch," she says, pointing at her phone. "I'm gonna go outside to take this for a minute, okay?"
"Yeah sure," Derek says with a faint smile.
"Hey, Derek? My glorious god of kicking down doors?" Penelope's voice sounds from the laptop.
"Hey, my beautiful muse," Derek smiles, moving the laptop into his lap so she can see him. "What are you doing?"
"Just worrying about you, what's new? How are you doing?"
"Me? I'm fine," he smiles but of course that doesn't fool her.
"Derek," she says in her trademark stern-yet-concerned voice.
"What do you want me to say? I'm me," he tries for levity.
"Yeah, and Spencer is Spencer. That's kinda why I'm worried."
"Damn it, girl, I'm never getting drunk with you again."
"Oh don't worry," she smirks, "I already know all your deepest, darkest secrets."
The scariest thing is, she's absolutely right.
"Honestly," he says, dropping his voice a little so as not to be heard through the thin bathroom door. "I'm more worried about Spencer in there. He's so tense he'll snap in half if he bends over. And if we can't sell the act tonight, then," he doesn't have to finish the thought, they both know what's going to happen if he and Spencer can't entice the unsub to choose them.
"Are they done yet?" Emily asks when she comes back into the room. "Hotch says we've got about an hour to get you to the club."
"Are you guys ready for this?" JJ calls right then.
"Sure, whenever you're ready," Derek calls back.
When the door opens it turns out that Derek was wrong on two accounts: one, he will most certainly not be fine and two, he was absolutely not ready for this.
Spencer is wearing the skinniest jeans Derek has ever seen – he's pretty sure JJ picked them up in the women's section – and a tank top that might be loose but the neck and the sides are cut so low it, well. It barely even counts as covering in Derek's books.
"Are you sure that's–" he starts, pointing towards where Spencer stands but Emily cuts in.
"Hey," she says with a hand on his arm. "Don't flex that much, you'll pop the buttons off your shirt before you even get to the club."
That gets a snicker from JJ and even Spencer can't help the little smile that sneaks on his face.
"Okay, babes, hate to be the party pooper, but I'm here to remind you all that you ought to be leaving right about now," Penelope says over the video feed.
"Thank you, my angel," Derek replies.
"Be safe! Garcia out."
They take separate cars, JJ and Emily going to meet up with Hotch and the rest of the force that will be lying in wait at the club, while Spencer and Derek drive to the club.
"Hey, kid, you okay?" Derek asks once they're alone in the car.
"Yeah, it's just a little awkward, isn't it?" Spencer keeps looking out the window, not even turning towards Derek.
"Only if we make it," Derek says. "Hey, Spencer, look at me. If you can't do it there's still time to call this whole thing off – "
"No, you said it yourself, it's the only way to keep him from killing even more people," Spencer says decisively.
"Yeah, but, once we're in there, if you can't pull it off, if we can't make it convincing..." Derek trails off.
"Don't worry, I'll manage." Spencer sounds pissed now and Derek would bet that he's scowling at the dark city outside the window but he's driving, so he can't look over, and Spencer still hasn't looked at him since they were in Derek's hotel room playing dress-up and laughing with the girls. Derek doesn't feel like laughing now.
"I'm not doubting your ability here–"
"Except that's exactly what you're doing. Look, I got your message, okay? Loud and clear," Spencer says, getting more and more agitated. "You don't think I'm cut out for undercover work, you don't think I can hold my own in the field, and you probably regret this decision already."
"No, Reid, I am not. Would you please listen to me? I know you're a good agent. I know you're intelligent and you know how to handle even the most delicate unsubs. I trust you. I trust you with my life in the field everyday."
"Not like this," Spencer mutters.
"I'm just– okay, maybe I'm a little dubious of your abilities as an actor," Derek admits. Better to air it now and get it over with and resolved by the time they get to the club.
Spencer shifts suddenly, turning towards Derek with his whole body, his shoulders dropping and an easy grin stretching across his face.
Derek glances at him in the dimly lit interior of the car.
"Don't worry, babe," Spencer smiles, putting one hand over Derek's where it rests on the gear shift. Derek's mouth goes dry. "It's just gonna be the two of us, having a little fun. We deserve it after all the stress of work in the last few weeks." He interlaces their fingers. "We're just a young couple in love indulging in a little alcohol and each other's company. And we are so, so in love."
Hearing these words out of Spencer's mouth, still quirked in a delicious little smile, is like something right out of Derek's deepest fantasy. Not even a sexual fantasy, but the kind of dream where he and Spencer have something lasting and they buy a house, maybe adopt a kid, and every Thanksgiving they visit Derek's mom in Chicago and every second Christmas they spend with Spencer's mother in Las Vegas and eventually, they retire from the BAU and Spencer probably takes a teaching post somewhere and Derek becomes a consultant and they live happily ever after.
This is not that life.
In this life, Derek isn't allowed to touch, doesn't even let himself look. In this life, Derek would take anything Spencer offered just because it'd be him offering it.
In this life, maybe Spencer would sleep with him (for what reason, Derek can't imagine, but Spencer with all his knowledge comes up with things everyday that Derek couldn't have imagined). And in this life, Derek would take it, even if it's just one night, because if that’s all he gets then he's damn well gonna take it. And afterwards he'd laugh and still be Spencer's friend and he wouldn't let it get weird for anything in the world.
If Spencer would offer.
"Well, alright then," Derek tries to laugh it off with his usual chuckle, but it sounds forced and wooden even to his own ears. "Let's go inside."
Spencer reaches for his hand again as they walk around the car but instead Derek slides an arm around Spencer's waist, pulling him in just a little.
Spencer looks at him with the tiniest frown on his face and Derek just barely resists smoothing his thumb over the furrow between Spencer's eyebrows.
"What? I'm a tactile person," he says instead.
"Yeah, but I'm not," Spencer says, shrugging out from under Derek's arm. Derek lets him but keeps his hand resting lightly on Spencer's shoulder and smiles, so they look like a couple joking around instead of two undercover agents trying to figure out where the boundaries are.
"C'mon now, pretty boy, don't make me profile you. We both know that's not the whole truth."
"Oh yeah?" Spencer asks, raising his eyebrows in a challenge, like he does when some stranger underestimates him.
"You do like touch, maybe even crave it, but you never initiate it, so you're always a little touch-starved.”
"That’s–"
"But! When people close to you initiate it you always welcome it," Derek says not a little triumphantly.
Spencer's mouth gets all pinched and Derek can't help his grin because that right there is proof he got it right.
"Come on, let's go inside, yeah? This alright?" He asks, sliding one arm loosely around Spencer's waist.
"Yeah, it's okay," Spencer mutters, putting his own arm around Derek.
"See, that's my boy," Derek smiles.
Inside the club the air is thick and the music is loud. It's packed full with people, standing at the bar, sitting in the booths and writhing on the dance floor. And somewhere in this whole mess their unsub is hiding.
Derek leads them to the bar first, cutting a path through the masses. He gives the bartender the agreed sign to let her know they're FBI agents and she brings them vodka cokes without any actual vodka.
"Thanks," Derek shouts over the music.
They don't know exactly how the unsub chooses his victims, whether he talks to them or watches them on the dance floor or what it is about them that catches his attention, so they go to sit in one of the booths first and talk for a while, pretending to get drunker the longer the night goes on.
"Hotch," Derek speaks into Spencer's mic, leaning close to his ear so it looks to the outside world like he's just trying to talk to Spencer over the music. "We're inside in one of the booths, no one suspicious stands out yet."
There's a beep on the line indicating their message has been received by the rest of the team, waiting outside the club. They can't hear what's going on inside the club unless him or Spencer push a button on the mic to activate it, something that Hotch had been very displeased about, but that was the best tech the locals had and sending something better from Quantico would've taken time. Time they didn't have.
"So," Derek starts, taking a sip from his coke, "I guess now we wait."
"Actually, I think we should keep up a conversation. It would look weird if we just sat here and waited."
"I know that," Derek says. He can't quite help the small laugh that escapes him. "I was just saying– You know what, it doesn't matter," he says when he sees Spencer's expression.
"So," Spencer says after a moment, "what do you want to talk about?"
"Football?" Derek suggests and laughs at Spencer's expression, somewhere between disgust and uncertainty. "I'm just kidding. Don't worry, kid. I don't know, what are you thinking about?"
He turns his whole body towards Spencer, an exaggeration of what he would normally do to flirt with someone at a club like this, and puts his arm up on the backrest around Spencer's shoulders.
"You're very close to me," Spencer blurts and he almost looks like he's blushing, but the light really is too low to tell so that's probably just Derek's imagination. Wishful thinking.
"Yeah," Derek says, pulling back a little, but just a little, "we're a – supposed to be a couple, remember? Couples sit close together, especially at clubs like this."
"I wouldn't," Spencer argues.
Derek just barely resists dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. He settles for breathing out hard through his nose and looking firmly at Spencer.
"I know you wouldn't, Spencer, but this," he gestures at Spencer in front of him, "this isn't you tonight. This is – it's an act." The words physically burn as they make their way out of his mouth.
Something in Spencer's face changes. "I know," he says, barely loud enough to be heard. He's looking out at the room instead of at Derek and damned if he is a profiler, he still can't read Spencer sometimes.
"Come on," Derek says, determined to get Spencer out of his gloomy mood, "let's dance!"
"Really?"
"Uh huh," Derek grins, pulling Spencer up and out of the booth and onto the dance floor.
At first Spencer is stiff, trying to keep Derek at arms length, which proves hard seeing as the dance floor is packed and everybody is bumping into each other.
Finally he gives up, melting against Derek, letting the crowd move him.
"Close your eyes and pretend you're alone," Derek speaks into Spencer's ear to be heard over the music, their cheeks brushing just barely.
Spencer huffs a laugh, inaudibly over the thumping music, but Derek feels the puff of air against his neck when Spencer drops his head.
Derek winds an arm around Spencer's waist to pull him in close, his other hand coming up to thread through the soft hairs at the back of Spencer's neck, guiding Spencer so his ear is right next to Derek's mouth again.
"I think I have eyes on our unsub," Derek says and Spencer just barely freezes for the fraction of a second before his arms come up around Derek's neck and he leans back just far enough to look Derek in the eye.
"Yeah?" he says with a brilliant smile as if Derek has just said something absolutely delightful.
"He's watching us," Derek murmurs, lips brushing Spencer's cheek, which is flushed a delicious pink. "Why is he not moving in?"
"Maybe he needs to be convinced," Spencer says and kisses him.
Derek doesn't miss a beat, just pours everything he's got into this one kiss because it's all he'll ever get.
The kiss drags on and on, tempting and teasing, the soft pressure of Spencer's mouth and a barely there hint of tongue. The seconds seems to tick by syrupy slow, the time between each moment getting longer and longer. Derek feels his heart beat in his throat once, twice and then a body is pressing up behind Spencer, changing their rhythm, and the unsub is smiling a shark's smile at him over Spencer's shoulder.
"Hey, man, you alright?" Derek asks after the adrenaline rush is over and the sirens of the car that's driving their unsub to the station are fading away into the night. Spencer is sitting on the curb, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the surprisingly chilly night air.
"Yeah," Spencer sighs, "it's just been a long week."
"For all of us," Derek agrees, sinking down next to Spencer.
"I want to," Spencer starts, "I wanted to apologize for– I shouldn't have just kissed you back there without asking, that was uncalled for and I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's okay," Derek says, rubbing Spencer's shoulder, both for comfort and warmth, "It was part of the job and you were right, it was exactly what we needed to do."
Spencer huffs out a small laugh but it sounds bitter, like biting down on a lemon rind. "Yeah."
"You okay?" Derek asks again and Spencer shakes his head.
"Yeah, just tired. I'm gonna head back to the hotel."
"I can give you a ride," Derek says starting to get up but Spencer waves him off.
"No, I'll drive with Hotch," and with that he disappears behind a car, out of Derek's sight but still on his mind.