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Pretty Boy: Reprise	By : Wagamama_hime Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 5108 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corp. This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7
A/N: Hmm… well, this chapter is another heavy-hitter. A lot of stuff happens and then s*** hits the fan, haha. It's another one of those chapters where we're all over the place from angstiness, to fluffiness, to rising tempers, back to angstiness. Yikes! O_O As a disclaimer, I think you guys are really not gonna like me in this chapter, haha.
Thanks, as always, for your great comments/questions, and for showing support to my story! Also, big thanks to my beta, A_WarriorZ_Haven, for helping me work through the plot.
xoxo

It was early on Wednesday morning when Derek woke up groggily to find that the spot next to him on the bed was vacant and cool. Two days had passed since Spencer and he had talked about the more painful parts of Spencer's past. Since then they hadn't spoken about it again. They spent the last two days laughing, teasing and flirting. One day was spent with Derek taking Spencer out to see more of his favorite sights around the city. And the other day, Spencer requested that they visit some of D.C.'s college campuses. Derek thought it was strange, especially since the colleges were on winter recess, but he had happily obliged since it was one of the first things Spencer had volunteered that he wanted to do. They walked around the sprawling school grounds and had explored the campus haunts. Spencer had been especially excited about the bookstores and numerous coffee shops and cafes.
And every night Spencer slept in Derek's bed. He still seemed a bit uncertain if it was okay, but Derek could see that it made Spencer happy to share the bed with him. And more importantly, Spencer didn't ask anymore. Last night Derek had even found Spencer under the covers with a book in his lap before Derek had even gotten in bed for the night. They hadn't had sex again since that morning two days ago. But that was more because of Derek's doing, not Spencer's. Spencer had made it clear that he was very much interested, but Derek had found himself starting to feel like maybe the boundaries were getting blurred a little bit. Even with that said, last night, Spencer had more than hinted at the fact that he was feeling 'pent up,' and Derek had chuckled before proceeding to tug his pants down and suck him off. Spencer had happily returned the favor, even though Derek had (weakly) protested, saying it wasn't necessary.
Groaning as he thought about it, Derek chastised himself, knowing that he had gotten a little too comfortable. Spencer was sleeping exclusively in his bed; they were having undefined (yet rather frequent) sex; and they were flirting like a couple in the honeymoon stage... But they weren't a 'couple.' He didn't know what they were, really. All he knew was that he hadn't planned for any of this to happen, and he suddenly felt far out of his element. Spencer definitely meant much more to him than the random hookups Derek was used to having, but Derek also wasn't sure if he was ready to be someone's 'boyfriend.' And, to add to that, Derek was painfully aware of the fact that Spencer was leaving at the end of the week. They probably should talk. No, they really needed to talk. But Derek couldn't bring himself to do it. It was probably because, if Spencer were to ask him what he wanted, Derek wasn't sure what the answer to that question would be.
Sighing as he looked around, wondering where Spencer had disappeared to, Derek felt a small twinge of worry. It was very early. Not even 7am yet. There was no reason for Spencer to be up at this hour. Derek had already been awake for about 10 minutes and he didn't hear the telltale sounds of someone in the bathroom. It was possible that Spencer had gone to use the hall bathroom, but Derek couldn't really see any reason for him to do that. Plus, his bedroom door was open a crack and he would have been able to hear the sound of the shower running from where he was.
Getting fed up with waiting, Derek pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. Walking into the dark hallway he listened out for any sounds of Spencer, thinking maybe the younger man had returned to the guest bedroom for some reason. Hearing nothing, he peeked into Spencer's room and saw that the room was still dark and the bed had not been slept in, as he had figured. Furrowing his brow, he glanced around and saw that Spencer's satchel was missing. Closing the door, he stepped back into the hallway and glanced down the stairs where he was surprised to see the faint glow of a light. That had definitely not been left on last night.
Derek had an inkling that that was where Spencer had disappeared to, and, wondering to himself, if maybe Spencer had gotten a bout of early-morning munchies, Derek quickly jogged down the stairs. When he walked into the living room, he was surprised to find Spencer curled up on the couch, book in one hand and a large mug in the other. From the lamplight Derek could clearly see that his hair was tousled and he had dark bags under his eyes.
"What's up?" Derek asked, from his position behind the couch.
Spencer jumped a bit as he looked up at him, as if startled, but then glanced away before answering.
"Nothing… I just wasn't tired anymore and didn't want to disturb you, so I decided to come down here…" Spencer murmured as he continued looking at the pages of his book.
"Not tired, huh? Well, it's 6:53 in the morning, kid, so I'm kind of finding that hard to believe. Is something the matter…? Did something wake you up," Derek asked as he walked further into the living room.
Spencer glanced down, the words in the book he had been reading blurring together. He didn't want to say anything to Derek, but the reason he had woken up so early—the reason he hadn't been able to go back to sleep—was because he had had yet another nightmare about Adrian Moore. But he didn't want Derek to know that.
Spencer didn't want Derek to see him as 'broken.' Sure, Spencer had felt an almost tangible sense of relief after he had confided in Derek about his past. It was freeing to be able to share his secrets with someone else, after having kept them to himself for so long. He had known, before he had even opened his mouth, that Derek would have been distressed by the things he was going to say; that he would feel bad for him. But, in that moment, that was okay. Spencer realized that maybe, once in a while, it was alright to be held and to have someone say 'it's not your fault.' And maybe he was able to accept that because those things had happened so many years ago and he had had some time to work through them; to live them over and over and put together his own thoughts about how he felt about them.
But Adrian Moore… Moore was like a raw, open wound for Spencer. It still felt so real. Sometimes he would close his eyes and he found himself right back there on that couch in the library at the Prince's Ball as Moore loomed above him, hands pressing painfully into his throat as he, literally, tried to choke the life out of him. Spencer knew that his past was 'problematic.' It made Derek act as if he had to walk on eggshells around him—as if he was afraid of hurting him like so many people before him had. Derek had even practically said as much to him before. Now, Spencer had the additional burden of being somewhat… 'traumatized' (he didn't like the word, but for the life of him couldn't think of a better one) by what had happened between him and Adrian Moore. He didn't want to tell Derek that he still thought about that man. Almost every day. He didn't want Derek to have more reasons to think that Spencer was too damaged to be worth the trouble.
But Spencer couldn't deny the fact that his anxiety about Moore were taking a toll on him. Even though Spencer loved that he could now sleep in Derek's arms, surrounded by the older man's warmth and strong embrace, he had started to fear falling asleep. Derek had been able to keep his fear of Moore at bay for the first few days Spencer had been visiting, but now it felt as if that temporary bandage had run its course, and Moore was back to haunt his dreams.
Spencer remembered waking up, almost an hour ago, gripped with terror, a scream poised on his lips. It was so dark in the room that, at first, he didn't know where he was. He had almost released that wail of horror, but when he recognized his surroundings he had been able to clap his hands over his mouth in time. He had been in Derek's bed, with Derek curled up against his side, snoring lightly. And he had almost shrieked like a little girl. He hadn't wanted Derek to see him like that. Sweating, shaking like a leaf, and terrified.
But the dream had been terrifying. He had dreamt about darkness. A darkness that he couldn't tell whether it came from a blindfold or if he had been locked in a place devoid of all light. He had dreamt about being bound; unable to move while he heard someone walking in circles around him. The person didn't talk, but Spencer knew they were there. He could hear them breathing. Then that person was touching him, stroking his face, his sides, his legs. And then Spencer felt the man lean in close, lips almost touching his ear, as he whispered 'Be a good boy.' After that dream, Spencer hadn't been able to stay in the bed. He couldn't stop himself from shaking and he was sure his movements would soon wake Derek up. So, he had pushed the covers off, and made his way downstairs. It wasn't like there would've been any chance of him falling back to sleep anyway.
But what bothered Spencer the most was that he knew his imagination was his own worst enemy. He dreamed about Moore constantly, but every time the dream changed somewhat. It was amorphous. Every time he thought up some different way Moore was going to torture him or hurt him. But Spencer knew his mind was just filling in this menagerie of horrors because he didn't know what Moore had really planned to do to him. Moore had teased and promised—had polluted Spencer's mind with the fear of 'what ifs'—but Spencer really hadn't seen what Moore was capable of. What Moore would have done if he had gotten his hands on him.
"Pretty Boy?" Derek asked, dragging Spencer out of his thoughts.
Placing the book and mug down with a sigh, Spencer forced himself to look up at Derek. Even though he didn't want Derek to know the things he was struggling with, he also knew that Derek was one of the few people who could help fill in those blanks. Because Derek had been a part of the investigation, he could help make it so that Spencer didn't have to imagine the worst-case scenarios anymore.
"Derek… I… Um… No one really told me what happened a-after… um," Spencer stuttered out, suddenly feeling afraid of what he wanted to ask. Then, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he locked eyes with Derek, resolutely.
"I want to know what happened after Adrian Moore died. What… What did they find?" he asked.
Derek flinched hearing Spencer's words. If he thought about it, he actually wasn't all that surprised that Spencer was still thinking about Moore. It was only a matter of time before it would come up. Moore had brought the boy to the brink of death. It was a jarring and terrifying experience. Something that would stick with a person. And, knowing Spencer, Derek was sure that the boy had not attempted to 'talk' to someone about any of his feelings following that horrifying night. Even though Derek knew services would've been offered to him by the LVPD following the close of the investigation. But, what Spencer was asking about was evidence. He wanted to know what they found out about Adrian Moore. Maybe, instead of counseling, this was a form of closure for the boy.
Derek sighed as he turned toward Spencer, seeing the eagerness, but also the hesitancy. It was clear that Spencer wanted to know, and yet he didn't.
"You want to know more about Adrian Moore?" Derek asked as he slid on to the couch next to Spencer and reached out, taking Spencer's hand into his. The boy's pale fingers were trembling, but he closed his fingers around Derek's. It seemed to steady him.
Licking his lips, Spencer nodded at Derek. He looked meaningfully at the older man, honey-colored eyes wide and pleading.
Derek shook his head as he thought about the things his team had learned about Adrian Moore following the man's death. There was always a set protocol when an unknown subject had to be dealt with lethally. Yes, when an investigation ended in the death of the suspect, it avoided the messy process of filing charges, hoping they would stick, and then hoping that a perpetrator would be convicted at trial. However, killing a suspect also meant that there was often a sense of 'uncertainty.' If the man did not confess to his crimes, how could they know for sure that they had gotten the right person? How could they be confident that their list of victims was exhaustive? How could they know that there wasn't some unaccounted-for person locked up somewhere, left to be forgotten because their captor had never admitted to their existence before his or her death? Sometimes, having a dead Unsub left things unnecessarily messy. So, the Unit's general procedure when it came to cases that ended in the death of an Unsub was to painstakingly go through every aspect of that individual's life—their cars, real estate, bank accounts, relatives, pedigree, internet history, and so on. No single rock was left to be unturned. And thus the team had investigated Adrian Moore in the same thorough manner.
"The last night we spent in Vegas…" Derek began, and he immediately paused, mind straying, unbidden, to the night he had spent with Spencer. He looked up at the boy and Spencer was also blushing, looking down at his lap. Derek couldn't believe that with all they had already done, they both were getting flustered about their first night spent together. But, that was a beautiful night. Derek would never forget it.
Gathering his thoughts, Derek grabbed Spencer's other hand and pulled them both into his lap, stroking Spencer's hands. Spencer looked up at him and smiled softly. Derek returned his smile with a sad one of his own.
"The team's last night in Vegas had them going to Moore's house," Derek continued. "Moore had two residences. Hotch and JJ went with members of the LVPD to Moore's ranch house, about an hour outside of the city. Rossi and Prentiss took another team to his penthouse apartment, which was a high-rise about 10 minutes off the Strip. The apartment seemed to just be a base of operations. They found a lot of evidence of his travels, but nothing pertaining in particular to his crimes. But his house…"
Spencer looked at Derek with concern as the older man trailed off, as if the thought in itself was one too difficult to voice.
Scooting a little bit closer and removing his hands from Derek's, Spencer shifted his body into Derek's lap. Gathering what the boy wanted, Derek unfolded his legs and allowed Spencer's back to press against his chest. The boy's soft hair brushed against his mouth and nose and Derek inhaled deeply. He brought his arms around Spencer's shoulders, squeezing the boy tightly. Sighing contentedly, Spencer placed his hands over where Derek's arms crossed over his chest.
"Spencer... I don't want to tell you these things," Derek murmured against his hair.
"It's okay, Derek… Nothing you say will hurt me. It's all… I know he can't hurt me anymore. And you're here with me. I'm safe with you," Spencer breathed out.
"Then… why are you doing this to yourself, kid? Why do you want to know any of it, at all?" Derek asked, squeezing Spencer again.
Biting his lip, Spencer shook his head. He understood Derek's confusion. It's not like he had some sort of morbid fascination with the maniac who had tried to kill him all those months ago.
He turned slightly in Derek's arms so he could see the older man's face.
"I've… been having these dreams, Derek," Spencer admitted. "I… I know his voice, and his face. I know what it felt to have him… trying to choke the life out of me. But, I know nothing about…him. And even though that's a good thing, for the most part, my dreams… well, my dreams are filled with all the things I imagine he would've done to me. Not knowing… not knowing actually makes it worse because my imagination is endless. I keep obsessing about it. All the different ways he would've h-hurt me."
Spencer paused and Derek squeezed him even tighter, leaning forward to kiss his temple. Spencer sighed softly and then Derek's hand was coming up to stroke his hair lightly.
"I understand that," Derek said softly. "I understand needing to know."
"So… you'll tell me?" Spencer asked, as he locked eyes with Derek.
He could see the reluctance in the older man's dark chocolate eyes, but Derek nodded and Spencer smiled softly.
Turning back around and pressing closer to Derek's chest, Spencer waited to hear Derek's deep voice.
"What Hotch and JJ found at the house was… troubling, for lack of a better word. Moore… he was one of those guys who knew how to pretend to be someone else on the outside. Suave, well-educated, well-spoken. But inside—when you got inside his personal spaces—he was obviously the same type of sicko we were used to dealing with. Consistent with our profile, we could tell that he was obsessed with order. Not a speck of dust anywhere; not a thing out of place. He had books by philosophers that all talked about the stark difference between good and evil. It was obvious that Moore thought he was some type of saint. And it was more obvious that he lived his life according to some very specific sense of morals," Derek began.
"The crime scene techs combed every inch of the house for evidence, while Hotch and JJ checked all the rooms to make sure there wasn't anyone else there. We didn't know if you were the first person he took such an… 'interest' in, so we had to make sure. And when they finally got to the basement… Well… what they found there… There was a room there Spencer… We… we had reason to believe he had plans to keep you there," Derek admitted, and Spencer could hear a hard edge to his voice.
Swallowing thickly, Spencer tried to calm himself down, his mind already coming up with its own disturbing imagery.
"Wh-what was the room like?" he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.
Derek hadn't been there, of course. He had spent that last night with Spencer. And he was thankful that he had. If he had seen the room that Adrian Moore intended to keep Spencer in, well… Derek was sure he would've torn the room apart. But, he had seen the case-files. The crime scene unit had been meticulous in cataloguing all pieces of evidence and they took pictures of every inch of the sprawling house. The 'dungeon,' as JJ had called it when they later discussed the cases, was a large room built into Moore's basement. The team had wondered to themselves who Moore had contracted with to build that room. Whoever had built it must have known that the owner was intending to use it for sadistic purposes. There was nothing remotely 'normal' about the specs for that room.
The pictures showed a well-appointed 10' by 12' room that, on first glance, might have appeared innocuous. Red silk sheets on the bed, high-end furniture strewn around the room, expensive clothing hanging in the closet, and, off to the side, a lavish ensuite bathroom with marble and stainless-steel finishes. But when one looked closer they would see that there were no windows. The door did not open from the inside, but there was a slot built into it, presumably big enough to fit a food tray through. There were restraints built into the bed. There was a closet of torture-tools in the corner of the room. It was a prison.
"It… He had a reinforced room built in his basement, Spencer. There was a heavy steel door with bars and locks on the outside and no handle inside the room. The person who would be staying there would never be able to get out on his own. It was sound-proofed. There was a…a bed in the middle of the room, fitted with leather restraints," Derek said and he could feel Spencer's body tense in his arms. "There was a camera in the corner of the room which sent a live-feed to a series of screens in the master-bedroom. We…we know he probably intended to watch you. He wouldn't have let you out of that room for a long time… And, what was worse, was that there was a closet filled with… tools."
Spencer really flinched upon hearing that, going almost rigid in Derek's arms.
"Tools?" he asked in a soft whisper.
Thinking about it, Derek's mind immediately went back to the pictures he had seen. There were a variety of items in leather, metal and latex. There were whips, of course, but also collars, clamps, and even a prod that had been later discovered to be electric. It had seemed like something out of a bad bondage film. But, the way they had profiled Moore, it was obvious to them that he wouldn't have been using the tools to get off, or even to bring Spencer any kind of pleasure. No. Moore would really have been using them to punish. To 'train' Spencer, as he had taunted. Based on their profile, they knew Moore most likely wouldn't have been in to deviant sex in the first place. Yes, he would have wanted to dominate Spencer, but Moore had convinced himself that he and Spencer were 'meant to be.' He would have wanted Spencer to submit on his own. He would have wanted Spencer to ask for it. And it was clear to them that his 'training' would have involved hurting Spencer until that happened. This, to Moore, would have been Spencer's way of realizing that he 'loved' him.
Derek's arms unconsciously tightened around Spencer's frame. It had been hard for Derek in those first few weeks following the team's return from the Judgement Maker case. One of the first rules he had learned when he joined the Bureau was 'don't take the cases home with you' and 'don't let it become personal,' and Derek had violated those two with this case. Big time. Sometimes he found himself obsessively looking through the files, and telling himself, over and over again, that he had saved Spencer in time. That what he had done—by paying so much attention to the kid—had been the right thing. But other times, when the team would bring up the case, Derek had scrambled to find weak excuses to avoid talking about it. Because he couldn't stop thinking about Spencer. He didn't like discussing Spencer as a 'victim,' or detailing the ways in which Adrian Moore had stalked him or had killed people because of his obsession with the boy. And, more than anything else, he didn't need images of Spencer, being hurt in the ways Moore had wanted to hurt him, flooding his mind.
"Derek…?" Spencer asked tentatively, after the older man had gone too long without speaking.
Derek took a deep breath and pulled Spencer closer.
"I don't want to tell you these things, kid. And I… I know you want details, but no one needs to know the kinds of things he had down there. It'll do you more harm than good. Just… just know that if we hadn't caught him… if he had had a chance to get his hands on you, he would've locked you up down there and he would've spent a lot of time using those 'tools' to hurt you. He wanted to make you submissive to him. Dependent on him. And he was going to devote as much time as it took to break you," Derek said in a voice tinged with anger.
"How… how do you know that?" Spencer asked as he tried to shift in Derek's arms to see the older man's face, but Derek's grip on him was too tight.
Derek hesitated for a moment before he decided to tell Spencer the part he had hoped to keep from the younger man. But, he knew that Spencer needed to know. He needed to be able to fill in the gaps to stop Moore from morphing into some type of phantom figure that would haunt his dreams. If he knew more about Moore he would be just a man, not something that went bump in the night.
"He kept a journal. Those are the types of things we're trained to look for, too. We know that serial killers tend to like to… memorialize their kills. So JJ was searching through his bedroom when she found a lockbox in a compartment behind his bed. When they were finally able to get inside the box, it contained a leather-bound notebook. But… it wasn't about his other kills, at all. It was all about you, kid. He chronicled the first time he saw you. Well... you know he knew about the tape," Derek said softly, and felt Spencer go almost completely still in his arms, as he had expected the boy would, having been reminded of one of the most painful moments in his past.
Waiting a few moments before continuing, as he stroked Spencer's arm, Derek sighed when he felt Spencer's body finally relax slightly.
"But, it seems the first time he met you—in person—was probably the first time you attended one of those 'parties.' He talked about watching you, and how it was 'fate' that he was able to run into you like that. He… took an interest in you and started asking around. He was finally able to link you back to the club, and once he did that well… it looks like someone there was feeding him information about you. To be honest, it was probably your manager, that Roth woman. But he had been careful not to use names, so we'll never know for sure. And he grew more and more obsessed with you. He knew your schedules, who you talked to, where you went. He talked about his visit to see your mom… And his journal also clearly showed when he went from just wanting to protect you to… wanting you," Derek said bitterly.
Spencer tensed again, and Derek was almost sure he had felt a shudder run through the boy's thin body. Derek grimaced, hoping he wasn't doing more harm than good by relating these facts to Spencer.
"Is… is any of this actually helping you?" Derek asked doubtfully.
"Y-yeah, it actually is," Spencer admitted quietly. "Although it's quite, um, disturbing to know he kept a journal about me, it also helps me understand how he knew so much. I had felt so… so violated when I learned that he knew all those things about me. Things that I had never told anyone else. And I couldn't understand how he had managed to do it. He was watching me… taking notes, and I never suspected a thing. He must've been around me more times than I could count, but I had never noticed him. And, to think, he was keeping that all locked up in a box behind his bed."
Spencer shook his head as he let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
Derek felt somewhat relieved. Even though it was obvious Spencer was distressed by what he had heard, he did seem to appreciate it. And Derek would be happy if he could give Spencer any semblance of comfort in that moment. He hadn't wanted to tell Spencer nearly half of what he had, but he had committed to being honest with the boy. However, what Derek hadn't told Spencer—and probably never would—was that there had been something else in that box. A DVD.
The crime scene techs had bagged the item to analyze it back at the station, but JJ had been almost certain what would be on it, and had solemnly told the team as much. And when they finally got the report—stating that the video contained footage of the obvious sexual assault of a brown-haired male who appeared to be a minor—and were asked what the BAU wanted them to do with it, Hotch had made the decision that the DVD could be destroyed. The assailant was dead, and could no longer be brought to justice. No one needed to see it. Not even the members of the BAU. And Derek had decided that Spencer never needed to know that that DVD had still existed. It was better for him to think it had been destroyed, and now that was actually the truth.
Both Spencer and Derek had been quiet for a while, as they each mulled over their own private thoughts, but then Spencer shifted a bit in Derek's relaxed arms and turned to face the older man.
"Derek… be completely honest with me," Spencer began as he locked eyes with Derek, lip trembling slightly. "D-do you think that… that if Moore had gotten me…. that if you guys hadn't been there…. Do you think he would've killed me?"
Derek's eyes widened at Spencer's words. His gut reaction would have been to look away, think up some placating answer that would 'comfort' Spencer. But, Derek immediately knew he couldn't do that to him. Derek had been doing this job too long to know how stalker cases ultimately turned out, especially if a stalker succeeded in abducting his victim. Someone like Moore—whose emotions seemed to dance on the edge of a knife—would likely snap at the slightest thing. Although Derek was sure Spencer was smart enough to know not to purposefully anger his captor and, out of self-preservation, would probably have given in to most of his demands, there was no way to ever predict how someone like that would react on any given day. He would've been in danger. And, yes, after some time, he most likely would have been killed.
"Listen, kid," Derek said with a heavy sigh as he looked into Spencer's eyes. "Moore… he was unpredictable. He was the type that would've wanted everything his way. You're smart and resourceful and I do think that you would've been able to keep him calm in the beginning. But, human beings aren't meant to be 'kept.' We aren't meant to bend to the will of others, and that's what Moore would've wanted. You would've tried your best to make him happy, to do what you had to do to survive. But, one day, it's likely you would've done something—some small, miniscule little thing—that would've caused him to snap. Or, something in his life would've gone awry and it would've cracked the perfect fantasy-land he was living in, to the point where he would've no longer been able to continue with it. In any case, you would've gotten hurt because of it. And… yes… it's likely that, sooner or later, he would have killed you."
A thick silence descended upon the room as Derek's last words echoed through it. While Derek's words had turned the blood in Spencer's veins to ice, Spencer had also seen that it had pained Derek to say something like that out loud. That it had put images of his death into the older man's mind, and that was something Derek found hard to deal with. Spencer felt like, somehow, he probably shouldn't have asked Derek to do something like that. But, Spencer also appreciated hearing the truth. He knew Moore was capable of killing. He had seen it with his very own eyes. But that still hadn't been enough to fill in the blanks for him.
Moore had been like a parasite sneaking around the edges of his consciousness; teasing him over the phone and taunting him with his gifts. But, Spencer had never known who he was. And when he had finally met the man in person, it had only been a few short—terrifying, yet short—minutes before he had felt the warm spray of blood on his face and the man had collapsed, dead, on top of him. Thus, 'Adrian Moore,' had turned into the embodiment of all Spencer's greatest fears. He feared something that was more than the man who had actually existed. And, while hearing more about Moore's 'plans' for him had been terrifying in itself, Spencer actually felt somewhat more at peace, because now he knew. He had Derek to thank for that.
"Derek… it's okay. Because of you…all of you on the team, I-I didn't have to go through any of that. I'm safe and alive because of you, okay?" Spencer said as he wrapped his arms around Derek's waist and pressed his face into the older man's neck.
Derek didn't say anything. Instead he just held Spencer tighter.
"Thank you, Derek. Really. Okay? This helped. It helped me, and I'm thankful you told me the truth," Spencer murmured against his skin.
Derek nodded.
"Alright, kid. If you say so. Just…just let me know if you're still struggling. You don't have to go through any of this on your own," Derek whispered, lips pressing against Spencer's temple.
"I will Derek. I promise," Spencer said softly.

Following the early morning's discussion, Derek and Spencer had fallen asleep on the couch. It was almost at Derek's insistence, as he complained about the bags under Spencer's eyes and Spencer's obvious attempts to hide his yawns. Giving in, Spencer had allowed the bigger man to pull him on top of him, and throw the sport-themed fleece over both of them. Spencer had fallen asleep a lot more quickly than he had expected. And when he next opened his eyes, he could tell from the light filtering in through the window shades that it was late in the afternoon. He sat up with a shocked gasp.
A soft chuckle from behind him caused him to turn around in surprise, and he looked up over the couch to see Derek standing there, halfway through the process of removing his coat, as he gave Spencer a playful grin.
"Finally up, huh, Pretty Boy?" he asked.
Spencer furrowed his brows as he rubbed at his eyes.
"I… how long did I sleep?" Spencer asked, incredulously.
"Well, it's almost 5, so about 10 hours, give or take. But you obviously really needed it. Don't worry, though. I got a lot of stuff done in the meantime, because some of us like to be productive," Derek said with a laugh.
Spencer blinked in surprise. He couldn't believe he had slept that long. And apparently, he had been almost dead to the world, if Derek had been up and about, like he had said he had been, and Spencer hadn't even woken up. Yawning and stretching to work the kinks out of his stiff neck, Spencer blushed as a sudden, loud grumbling sound echoed from his stomach. When he had woken up earlier, he had only made himself a coffee. He hadn't eaten anything in hours. And now his stomach was obviously protesting his unintentional fast.
"And, I figured you'd be starving. So I'm almost done making dinner too," Derek said with a wink, obviously having heard Spencer's stomach.
Spencer's blush deepened, but he decided to ignore Derek's comment.
"You just got back in?" he asked as he glanced at Derek's coat.
"Yeah, went for a run with Clooney. By the way, kid, you were so out of it that you didn't even wake up when Clooney licked all over your face," Derek said with a laugh. "But, don't worry; I didn't let him go at it for too long."
Spencer blanched.
"Uh… I… I think I'm gonna go take a shower," he said with a grimace as he started rubbing at his face.
Derek rolled his eyes and laughed.
"Fine, but hurry up! I don't want my food getting cold waiting on you as you lounge up there in another one of your half an hour showers," Derek said, faking a glare.
Spencer couldn't help but laugh at that as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Ok, I'll try my best," he said with a smile.

As Spencer stepped into the warm spray of the shower, closing his eyes as he let the water run down over his face and neck, he found himself deep in thought about the events that had transpired that morning. He was shocked that he hadn't had any nightmares. And to sleep for 10 hours straight, well… that was almost unheard of for him. Spencer was used to sleeping intermittently, waking up multiple times during most nights from either a nightmare or the fact that his thoughts seemed to constantly be running on high-speed. This had been the case for years, but had grown increasingly worse in the months following his run-in with Adrian Moore. Spencer had learned to make his peace with the fact that he would just have to be perpetually tired. And the only time he could remember sleeping through the night recently had been a few days ago. The first time he and Derek had… well… Spencer blushed at the thought. He had chalked that up to his body having been too exhausted by the previous night's 'activities' to do anything other than sleep like a log.
But, this morning had been different. Sure, he was exhausted. Derek didn't know it, but Spencer was getting a lot less sleep than the older man would have figured. Derek could see the bags that had been forming under his eyes this morning, but Spencer really hadn't been sleeping much since that morning he had woken up and told Derek about the video, the drugs, the fire, and his mom. Spencer would usually fall asleep before Derek—the other man's warm arms and deep breathing lulling him to sleep—but about an hour after that, he found himself waking up in a panic. As he had feared, Derek's presence could only do so much to keep his anxieties away. This morning, however, after talking to Derek and learning about Moore, Spencer couldn't remember dreaming at all.
Sighing as he quickly lathered his hair, Spencer wondered if it was too optimistic to hope that maybe Moore would stop 'haunting' him. He knew Derek hadn't told him everything. It was obvious the man was trying to give him the less-horrific version of the story. And Spencer was okay with that. He didn't exactly want the gory details. It's not like he would ever ask for that journal, or ask to see pictures of Moore's house. It had made his stomach twist into knots to hear about the prison-like room Moore had built for him. Spencer knew something like that existed—Moore had made it clear that he intended to 'keep' him—but hearing it in detail was something else, entirely. He shuddered as he imagined the windowless box, the steel door, and the restraints attached to the bed.
Knowing that, however, Spencer still hadn't dreamed about it. And he took that to be a good sign. He was thankful to have a reprieve. At least for the time being. Smiling to himself, Spencer shut off the water. He could have very well stayed in the shower for another 10 minutes, but he didn't think Derek had been fully kidding when he had asked him not to linger. So, with a fond roll of his eyes, Spencer stepped out of the shower and began to towel off, wondering to himself what was for dinner.

To Spencer's delight, Derek had made lasagna from scratch, served along with toasted garlic bread. When they finished dinner it was already dark outside. Derek suggested they watch a movie, and had left Spencer to set up the DVD player and pick something out while he got started on the dishes. Derek had picked up an apple pie from a farmer's market on the way back from his run and was planning to surprise Spencer with 'apple pie a la mode' for dessert as they watched the movie.
Elbow-deep in the soapy water, Derek groaned as he realized he left his phone on the coffee table. He doubted anything important would come in during the fifteen or so minutes it would take him to finish the dishes, but he was always of the 'better safe than sorry' mentality, so he called out to Spencer.
"Hey, kid, can you grab my phone off the table and bring it in here for me?" Derek asked.
"Okay!" Spencer called back as he reached out to grab the black phone. As soon as Spencer's hand closed around it, a text message came in, illuminating the screen.
Spencer froze as his eyes immediately roved over the displayed text. He couldn't help reading it. It had been automatic for his eyes to zoom in on the words.
Savannah Hayes: Hey! I'm in town for the weekend. Couldn't stop thinking about how much 'fun' we had when I was here last time during Thanksgiving. So how about we have some more fun tonight? ;p Say, my place around 11?
Spencer's mind quickly tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The text was from someone named Savannah. Someone who Derek had had 'fun' with around Thanksgiving. That was three weeks ago.
Spencer's face flushed, fueled by a mixture of anger, confusion and…pain. He felt humiliated. Was Derek currently seeing someone? Had he lied when he said he wasn't? And if so, Spencer thought to himself, what did that make him? What was he to Derek, in relation to this mystery woman? Was this 'Savannah' his girlfriend, and Spencer was just something he was doing as fun on the side? That thought hit him in the gut. It made him feel like… a whore.
Numbly getting to his feet, Spencer walked into the kitchen. He could see Derek humming and bobbing his head along to a song he was probably singing in his head. Spencer couldn't appreciate the quaintness of the scene, however. He wanted answers.
"Who's Savannah?" was all he said, and he watched as Derek jumped in surprise and turned around to him with a confused look on his face.
Spencer held out his right hand, that was clutching the phone, and, using it to gesture at Derek, he asked again, "Who is Savannah?"
And Spencer watched as it seemed something clicked in Derek's head, and the older man flushed, eyebrows drawing down in displeasure.
"Did you go through my phone?" Derek asked, in an accusing tone.
Spencer felt his face heat up again, but he didn't know if it was from embarrassment or anger.
"No! Of course I didn't! A text came in as soon as I went to reach for it. I couldn't help but see it," he explained hotly. "But that doesn't answer my question! You said you weren't seeing anyone."
"I'm not seeing anyone," Derek responded.
"Then why did this… this… woman text you that she had 'so much fun' with you over Thanksgiving and she can't wait to see you again? She expects you to go to her place tonight, at 11!" Spencer said, his frustration obviously apparent.
Derek sighed as he leaned against the counter.
"Spencer, that's… she's not… We're definitely not 'seeing' each other. That's just sex. Sex doesn't mean anything," Derek said flatly.
Spencer's eyebrows shot up, and Derek immediately knew he had said the wrong thing. As he gazed at the emotions flitting across Spencer's face, Derek wished he had put more thought into his words before he had opened his mouth. Spencer's lips were set in a grim line as he glared at Derek. Then he placed the phone on the counter top, turned around on his heel, and stormed out of the kitchen.
Shit, Derek thought to himself as he took a deep breath and leaned over the sink. That was not what I wanted to say. Figuring Spencer was in the living room, fuming and waiting for him to run after him and explain himself, Derek began to dry his hands as he tried to think of a way to fix what he had said. However, just as he placed the dishcloth down on the counter, he heard what sounded like the door slamming and his eyes widened in surprise.
That cannot be what I think that was… Derek thought to himself in panic.
"Spencer?" Derek called out. Hearing nothing, he quickly walked out of the kitchen and was dismayed to see the place empty.
Panicking, Derek ran to the front door, not even bothering to put a coat on, and raced down the steps. When he got to the sidewalk, his head whipped around frantically in both directions, but Spencer was nowhere in sight. All Derek could see was the dark, deserted street.
"Dammit!" Derek shouted angrily.
He didn't know which way he should head. If he picked the wrong one that meant he would waste precious time, as Spencer could be wandering aimlessly in the opposite direction. Derek's neighborhood was safe, but it was still D.C. Walking four or five blocks in the wrong direction could have Spencer ending up someplace he definitely didn't need to be. And Spencer was definitely not familiar with the area. It was dark and bitterly cold out, and Derek couldn't help but worry. When angry, Spencer was irrational at his best and downright reckless when at his worst. Frowning, Derek ran back up his steps and into his house. Slamming the door, he quickly stormed into the kitchen and grabbed his phone off the counter.
He immediately found Spencer's number in his contacts and dialed it. Waiting impatiently as it rung a few times, Derek cursed when it went to voicemail. He tried back three more times, and once the call even cut off before it had rung two times. He knew he had been purposefully sent to voicemail. Growling to himself, Derek quickly shot off a text message to the stubborn recipient.
Derek Morgan: Kid, this is NOT funny. If you don't pick up the next time I call I'm gonna contact my team and have them organize a search party for you. I'm completely serious.
Derek waited a few seconds before a response text came in.
Spencer Reid: I don't want to talk to you
Rolling his eyes with annoyance, Derek's fingers flew over the screen sending another brief message.
Derek Morgan: Tough. Pick up when I call.
Not waiting for Spencer to respond with any snarky comeback, Derek immediately dialed again. This time, the call was picked up, but Spencer didn't even say 'hello.'
"Kid, where are you?" Derek asked instead.
"Don't worry about where I am," Spencer responded curtly.
"Goddammit, Spencer. No matter how pissed off you are, you can't just go wandering around out there when you have no idea where the hell you're going," Derek said as he paced in the living room. His eyes were then drawn to the coat hooks behind the door and he frowned as he saw Spencer's dark gray pea coat was still hanging on its hook.
"And you didn't even bring your fucking coat, kid? Come on!" Derek said with frustration.
Spencer still hadn't responded and Derek knew he needed to rethink his approach. Obviously, scolding Spencer wasn't going to make the younger man any more likely to listen to him.
"Ok, listen…" Derek said after he had taken a deep breath. "I know you're angry, and maybe you need some time to yourself. Fine. I'll respect that. But, you have to be safe 'cause I can't sit here thinking you're walking around God-knows-where, in this weather, without knowing that you'll be okay. So, do me a favor: wherever you are right now, head back to Baltimore Ave. It's a main road, and there are a lot of cafes and shops there. Go sit down for an hour or so—get out of the cold—and clear your head. I'll give you one hour and I won't bother you. But, if you're not back here by then, I'm gonna come look for you."
Derek glanced down at his watch. It was almost 7:30.
"Fine," was all Spencer said before he ended the call.

It was 8:29 and Derek was pacing by the front door, coat on and ready to go out looking for Spencer. He had had to fight down all his most natural instincts when he had told Spencer he would give him an hour to have time to himself. In actuality, all Derek had wanted to do was bark orders at him and tell him to come straight home. To Derek, Spencer was acting like a child. Refusing to talk was childish. But, he also knew that, deep down, Spencer was feeling some kind of betrayal. Derek didn't necessarily think it was justified, but he could at least 'understand' it. Especially following what Derek had thoughtlessly said in response to Spencer's questions.
In any case, Derek knew that trying to have that type of conversation with Spencer on the phone—especially with having no way of knowing where the kid was—might drive Spencer further away. Whether Derek wanted to have this 'talk' or not, what he wanted more than anything was for Spencer to be back in the safety of his home. He needed to see him. Derek had spent the entire past hour just worrying. He hated how it felt like his heart was stuck in his throat every time he thought of Spencer just walking around out there alone. The kid just seemed like the type who would have a target on his back for anyone who would want to mess with him. And that thought had Derek's stomach twisting in knots. He wasn't an anxious person by nature—truthfully, he was pretty calm and collected in most situations—but something about Spencer always put him on edge. Sighing as he ran his hand over the back of his head, Derek could only think that he really hoped Spencer had listened to him when he told him to stay off the streets.
Glancing down at his watch and seeing that it was now 8:31, Derek had decided that he had waited long enough. Frowning, he placed his hand on the front door knob and when he pulled it open he was surprised at what he saw. Spencer was standing there, cheeks and ears reddened by the cold, but, really, looking no worse for wear, clutching a large disposable coffee cup in his hands. As soon as Spencer's eyes found his, the younger man looked away and walked through the front door. Derek stepped back and watched him silently. He couldn't deny that he was relieved. The relief had actually washed over him like a flood as soon as he saw the wavy-haired genius standing on his doorstep. But, soon the relief was replaced with annoyance. Spencer was sometimes downright infuriating.
Closing the door with a sigh, Derek began to remove his coat. He said nothing as he went through the process, but he knew Spencer was standing a few feet behind him, subtly shifting from foot to foot. He could tell the younger man was anxious. Good, Derek thought to himself, let him sweat a little. He wasn't the one losing his mind for the past hour worrying over him. Taking a bit longer than he probably needed to, Derek finally turned around and pinned Spencer with a serious look.
"So, you ready to talk now?" he asked.
Spencer flinched a bit and frowned at him.
"I don't really want to talk, but you seem like you intend to do this anyway. So I don't think I really have much choice," Spencer responded.
Derek sighed.
"So…you think you can accuse someone of a whole slew of things, storm out of the house in the middle of the night, leaving that person worried sick about you, and then not even give that person a chance to explain?" Derek asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's pretty fucking childish."
Spencer's face flushed with embarrassment and anger. He didn't like being chastised. Especially when he didn't think any of this was his fault.
"What is there to explain, Derek? You made it pretty obvious that whoever you're fucking at the moment is meaningless to you. I don't think I really need to explain that that makes me feel like shit. And I don't necessarily want to feel like shit right now, so forgive me if I don't think listening to anything you have to say is really gonna help me," Spencer spat.
Derek sighed as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
"Just take a seat, Spencer," Derek said as he motioned toward the couch.
When Spencer just stood there glaring at him, Derek sighed again, before adding a "Please?"
Spencer finally gave in and made his way over to the couch. He sat down with a huff and placed his coffee cup down on the table. Walking over, Derek sat down on the couch a bit more gently, and tried to put his thoughts together. From what Spencer had said, it was clear to Derek what he was feeling. Spencer's feelings were hurt—understandably so—and, while there was quite a list of things Derek wanted to talk about, Derek knew he had to address that first.
"Look… Spencer… What I said… Well, that was a pretty shitty thing to say, and I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry it came out that way. I didn't mean for you to think that that's how I felt about you," Derek began.
Spencer looked up at him, eyes shining with anger, but there was also a deep vulnerability there.
"Kid… This is all pretty new to me. I've never really been asked to explain any past…'interactions' I've had with other people in my life. Yes, in general, I have sex for fun. It's no strings attached, and everyone's usually pretty on board with that. So, I didn't mean to say that sex is meaningless to me, but just that… generally, the people who I sleep with are those that just want something temporary. A fling. They're not people who really intend to stick around," Derek tried to explain.
"So… is that what you've been thinking all this time when you've been having sex with me?" Spencer asked, as he looked down at his hands.
Derek hesitated. That hadn't been what he had been thinking about when he had been with Spencer. Honestly, Derek felt like he hadn't thinking very much at all when he was with Spencer. And that was the problem. He had been happy and content, and somewhat purposefully avoiding trying to 'figure out' what their situation was. It didn't help that Spencer was supposed to be leaving in a few days. Knowing that Spencer's time with him was temporary—whether Derek wanted it to be or not (something Derek wouldn't let himself think too hard on at the moment)—made it so that Derek found a number of excuses not to think about the long-term. But it seemed like his pause had run on for too long, and Spencer had made his own conclusion in the silence.
"Fuck you, Derek. You're such an asshole," Spencer said as he glared at him, voice trembling and eyes starting to glisten with unshed tears.
"Dammit Spencer, I didn't say that that was how I thought about you!" Derek said, feeling somewhat attacked. He didn't like being backed in to a corner and this conversation was making him feel that way. Big time.
"You didn't need to say that!" Spencer screamed at him. "It's obvious you're fumbling to think of something nice to say, when all you really want to say is 'thanks for the fuck, but I'm not interested in anything else you have to offer!'"
That was like a slap in the face, and all Derek felt in that moment was anger. Maybe it was because that struck a little too close to home with how he had been with every other relationship. And maybe it made him feel too much like an asshole because he couldn't decide what he wanted from Spencer and thus really was floundering to answer him. But Derek didn't like being pushed, and what came out in those instances usually wasn't anything he was proud of.
"What do you want from me? I told you…I told you from the beginning that if you wanted to do this, you weren't allowed to come to me later and complain about it. 'No regrets,' remember?" Derek snapped. "I can't suddenly be a different person because you've been here for a week and we've been fucking!"
Spencer's eyes widened and at that moment there was nothing he could've done to stop the tears from overflowing.
"Yeah, you know what? You're right. I was stupid. I was stupid to think that any of this meant anything. Ok, fine. Don't worry about it. You don't need to worry about anything having to do with me, anymore," Spencer said quickly, voice thick with emotion, as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Shit, kid, I didn't mean that-" Derek began as he rose to his feet and reached for Spencer, but Spencer slapped his hand away.
"I… I can't believe you. I actually thought you were different. I thought you cared about me, Derek," Spencer said with a sob.
Seeing Spencer that way was like a knife being dug into Derek's heart. But before he could say anything else, Spencer spun away from him and ran up the stairs. Soon after, Derek heard the guestroom door slam.
Grimacing, Derek sunk back down on to the couch. That had blown up in his face. It hadn't gone anything like how he had planned. Spencer's words still echoed in his head, and every time the image of Spencer's hurt and betrayed face flashed across his mind's eye, he felt like he wanted to throw up.
Standing to his feet, Derek slowly made his way up the stairs. As he stopped in front of Spencer's door, he could hear the muffled sounds of the boy sobbing.
"Kid… Spencer, can we talk?" Derek asked as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and tried to turn it. But it was locked.
"Go away!" he heard Spencer yell from behind the closed door.
"Spencer, please. I'm sorry. I want to say I'm sorry to you. Face to face. I need to apologize," Derek tried again, feeling completely torn up inside.
"I said go away, Derek! Just go away!" Spencer screamed again.
Flinching, Derek removed his hand from the doorknob and took a step back. He couldn't force Spencer to talk to him right now. But maybe this was for the best. Derek knew he couldn't talk to Spencer before he knew what he wanted to say. He had to say something to make Spencer trust him again; to make him feel like he hadn't made a mistake in trusting Derek. But, Derek didn't exactly know how to do that.
Sighing, Derek walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Sinking down on to his mattress—and immediately feeling a sense of loss at the realization that Spencer wasn't in that bed with him—he dropped his head into his hands. He needed to figure this out, and fast. If he kept on the path he was on, he was going to hurt Spencer more than he already had and destroy any chances of ever fixing things between them.
Spencer had shown him so much trust in these last few days. He had opened up to him, relied on him, and shared things with him that he had never shared with anyone else. Then, with a sudden pang of regret, Derek remembered back to the words Spencer had breathlessly said to him all those times the boy had been lost in passion. Spencer might even actually love him. And all Derek was doing was tearing his heart to shreds.
Groaning, Derek got to his feet and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had come to a conclusion. If he didn't know what the hell he was doing, or how to fix a situation he had already royally fucked up, he knew one person who could tell him what to do. It wasn't going to be easy—and he probably wouldn't like all the things he was going to hear—but at the end of the day, he knew it was going to be the right decision. He just hoped he was brave enough to do it.

Stepping out on to the balcony attached to his bedroom, Derek slid the door closed behind him. It was freezing out there, even in his thick sweater, but Derek didn't want to run the risk of Spencer overhearing what he was saying through his bedroom door. Derek glanced down at the phone in his hand and then, with a deep breath, he hit 'call' on the name that was glowing on his screen.
The phone rang two times before the person on the other end picked up.
"Ooh, Derek Morgan, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" Garcia answered with a smile in her voice.
Hearing the blonde's perky and bubbly tone, Derek almost lost all his resolve. He currently felt as low as he could feel, and he suddenly didn't want to bring Garcia down with any of this. But he knew he had to do this. He would get nowhere unless he did. So, he steeled himself and cut straight to the point.
"Do you remember Spencer Reid?" he asked.
"Spencer...? Oh! That kid who was hookin' in that case we had a couple months ago in Vegas?" she asked with surprise.
"He wasn't hookin', Garcia," Derek snapped, with probably a little more venom than was necessary. "He was a dancer at a strip club!"
"Okay..." she said from across the line. "So…what about him? I thought that case was declared closed? Have there been some new developments? …Is everything alright with him?"
Hearing the rising panic in her voice, Derek quickly cleared up the situation.
"No, no. None of that. I just… well, we kept in touch after that case and he told me he was going to be in D.C. over Christmas break, and he's never been here before, so he asked if I would show him around, and I agreed," Derek blurted out in one big breath.
"Aww, chocolate muffin. That's so sweet of you. I do remember you guys spending a lot of time together and he definitely seemed to have taken quite a shining to you. It must be nice to have someone like that look up to you. He probably sees you as a studly, door-kickin-down, Unsub-shootin,'super-hero type, big-brother, huh?" she joked.
Derek cringed at the entire list of terms, but especially at "big brother." There was definitely nothing brotherly about the relationship he had with Spencer Reid. Realizing that Garcia was getting the wrong idea—and it was no one's fault but his own that she was getting that wrong idea—Derek decided he had to steer the conversation back to the relevant topic.
"Um… Garcia, babe. I need to tell you something and you have to promise me you're not going to hate me after this…" Derek said to her.
There was silence over the other end of the line.
"Garcia?" Derek asked, thinking the call had dropped.
"Derek," she said seriously (and it was not lost on him that she had called him Derek in lieu of a slew of other available pet-names), "I can't promise you something like that. What I can promise you is that I'll listen to what you have to say and be fair. But I won't promise absolution before I've even heard what you have to say."
Feeling even shittier about what he was going to say, and the possibility of permanently damning himself in the eyes of Garcia, Derek sighed.
"I got you Baby Girl. I just… It's really important to me what you think of me and I don't know how to say this," he said hesitantly.
"Derek..." Garcia began again, "you're scaring me, hon. And I'm really confused. This conversation is all over the place. First you call me bringing up a random case from months ago and tell me you're hanging out with Spencer. And I don't know if you were just telling me something sweet to butter me up for whatever it is that's this awful thing you want to say. Or if the awful thing is somewhat related to the Vegas case? I just don't know. So I think you're going to have to just come out and say it. Whatever it is."
Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for instant rejection, Derek said: "I slept with Spencer."
He purposefully kept it to the singular and past tense of the verb because right now he wasn't even sure how Garcia would react to the idea that it was a one-time lapse of judgment, not a three time lapse (?) of judgment in as many days. However, Derek heard only silence on the other end of the line.
"...Excuse me?" Garcia said after a moment.
Derek sighed, not sure if he could say it again, but understanding how Garcia could honestly have believed she must have heard him wrong. She probably wished she heard him wrong. But Derek knew he had to man up and just say it.
"I… I said I slept with Spencer Reid," he forced out.
"You what?!" Garcia screamed from the other side of the phone. "D-Derek… he's… isn't he just a kid? And he's a boy. And he was the victim in one of our past cases! What do you mean you slept with him? You can't be serious!"
"First off, Garcia—and I'm not trying to make the situation any less serious by saying this-" he began before he was cut off by her hysterical voice again.
"There's no way that this could ever be any less serious, unless he drugged you, tied you down, and forced himself on you! And, even if he did, it'd still be your damn fault because you're a fucking idiot!" Garcia yelled.
Derek could find little rationality in her statement so he sighed and continued what he was going to say.
"While… I won't say I'm proud of what I did, the things you said aren't necessarily true, Baby Girl. Spencer isn't a kid-" he started, only to be cut off by Garcia again.
"The fuck he isn't, Derek Morgan! I was in charge of compiling the files on that case and I remember quite clearly that whatever age he was there was definitely a teen on the end of it," she hissed from her side of the phone.
Cutting her off, Derek quickly blurted out, "He's 20."
"Since when, a month ago?" came her caustic response.
There was a beat of silence before Derek admitted, "T-two months ago…"
Garcia screamed in frustration again, causing Derek to flinch and move the phone slightly away from his ear.
"What the fuck, Derek?" she asked, and he could hear what sounded like pain in her voice. "What. The. Actual. Fuck?"
Derek sighed again.
"Shit, Baby Girl, I know I really messed up. Ok? I know it goes against protocol, even with the case being closed. I know that I should've resisted, even though I really like him. And, you don't have to tell me, I know he is fucking young. But it happened, and now we're here and… Shit! I just… I don't know what to do," Derek pleaded with her.
There was silence again, but before Derek could inquire as to whether she was still there (or, rather, still willing to talk to him), he heard her let out a heavy sigh of her own.
"What…do you want to do, Derek? And I guess, a bigger question is what is it that you guys have between you?" she asked.
"Um…" Derek began, still afraid to shine more light on the depth of their relationship.
"Well, it doesn't sound like this was a one-night stand or some drunken hook up. I'm guessing this started back when you were working the case in Vegas?" she asked plainly, not a hint of judgment in her voice.
"I never touched him while we were working the case," Derek felt the need to defend himself, even though that wasn't entirely a true statement. "And…the sex, well that only happened here. Only a few days ago."
"So, other than being a huge fuckup and possibly doing some major damage to your professional reputation if anyone finds out, what's got you worried?" Garcia asked, pointedly.
Derek praised the Gods above that Garcia had seemed to put aside her personal displeasure with him and his actions to tackle the conversation objectively.
"Um… the problem is that… Well, one of the problems, is that the kid's been saying he loves me," Derek murmured. "And… Baby Girl, I don't know what to do with that…"
"Oh, Derek," Garcia whispered. And Derek flinched because there—there the judgment was back. Before he could say anything, Garcia jumped in.
"Derek, he's really young. And from what I read in his file, his life has been pretty damn fucked up. He doesn't know what he's doing. You're supposed to be the adult here; the mature one who's supposed to know to keep your distance, so he doesn't get hurt," she said.
"I know that. Garcia, it's not like I'm playing around here," Derek said angrily.
The silence on the line told him exactly what she thought of that. She did think Derek was just playing with Spencer.
"Shit, Garcia!" Derek said, affronted. "I'm not such an asshole that I'd take someone's virginity and just kick him to the curb."
"Derek!" she gasped in shock. But before she could make him feel even shittier about what he had unwittingly divulged, he continued.
"Look, I really care about him. Seriously. And, I felt a connection to him even when we were back in Vegas. I knew he was really attached to me, and, just like you, I figured it was the whole "hero-worship" thing. That he had never met a good guy in his entire life—never met anyone who wasn't just there to use him—and so he latched on to the first sincere person he's ever known. And although I genuinely liked him, I told myself "Spencer's not for you. He'll find somebody else, and they'll be great together," Derek said, remembering how awful that realization had felt.
"So I tried to push him away. The kid was throwing himself at me every which way and, really, I did refuse him. I swear. But, still, even with me trying to be the chivalrous type, I still felt really jealous with the idea of anyone else touching him, or him going back to work at that damn club. And I wanted a better life for him. I was able to give him that, but I found myself still thinking, "What if he meets someone back at school? What if he forgets about me?" But, even with that, I was willing to let him go, thinking it was what was best for him," he explained.
"Then, he calls me up out of the blue a few weeks ago and says he wants to visit and see the sights. Like it was all innocent. But as soon as he got here, he was after me again and he explained to me that even with the time apart, and the chance to get back to a normal life, he still wanted to be with me. And, I don't know. I gave in. Because I wanted him. I wanted something for myself, for once, and the thought of Spencer just… he just does something to me. Makes me feel things I've never felt. And I know it was selfish, but the alternative to me was so much worse. To let him be with someone else… He's the sweetest little thing, and he makes me happy," Derek said, almost in a murmur.
"But I feel really shitty about it, and guilty as all hell, as I know I should. I feel like I should've just said no, like you said—I'm the adult and I know what he's been through. Believe me, I know. I know that when you've dealt with shit like that you either can't trust anybody, or you throw yourself at the first person willing to love you. But I would never intentionally hurt him, or take advantage of him—all I want to do is make him happy. But, Baby Girl, I just need someone to hear me and tell me if I'm crazy to think that maybe I can make this work, or if I need to just push him away… let him go?" Derek asked, his voice raw with emotion.
"Oh, Der-bear," Garcia said softly, and just hearing those words of endearment were enough to heal a few of the open wounds on Derek's heart. "You… I've never heard you talk about anyone this way. Listen, if you love him, you love him."
"Whoa, Garcia, I never said-" Derek began but she stopped him.
"You don't have to say it. To feel so fucked up in the head and to need me to give you permission to be happy—and to even be willing to listen if I told you that you had to give him up—that tells me you care about him and that you'd let yourself be hurt just to save him. So, I don't care whether a lightbulb has gone off in that handsome head of yours, or not. To me that sounds like love. Ok?" she said plainly.
Derek said nothing in response.
"And… fine, maybe it's not the most traditional or sparkly-clean origin story," she continued, undeterred by Derek's silence. "But I suppose you don't owe anyone an explanation for who you love and how that came about. It's not like there's anything wrong, or illegal, about a nine-year age difference. If he was 24 and you were 33… and, you know, if he wasn't the past victim in one of our cases, I don't think I'd even bat an eye at this. But, for right now, he's just brand new to all of this, you know? You just… have to be careful with him, Derek. Because you have lived more, and experienced more, and, Lord knows you've got a trolley-full of your own epic baggage, but as long as you're willing to take your time with him, be fair to him, and not hold him back if anything changes later, then I think you can make this work. Ok, my love?"
Derek found himself nodding at the phone, unsure if he could talk now that this weight had been lifted off his chest.
"So… what exactly spurred this need to come to the confessional?" she asked after a while.
And Derek groaned, remembering with shame the words that had been shared between him and Spencer.
"A… a fight. That ended up in Spencer locking himself in his room, and probably crying himself to sleep," Derek admitted, .
Garcia gasped.
"What? What happened?" she asked.
"Ugh, the kid accidentally saw a text on my phone from Savannah-" he began.
"Oh, that girl you met back when you were living at your old apartment?" Garcia asked, recognizing the name.
"Yeah… She moved about two years ago, but every once in a while when she's back in town visiting family and friends she hits me up. You know… for some company. It was a pretty good set up. There was never anything serious between us. But, since Spencer's been here, I forgot all about her. And then she texted me that she was in town and trying to hook up tonight…" Derek trailed off, letting Garcia fill in the blanks on her own.
"Aww, and poor Spencer saw that? Yikes," Garcia said.
"Yeah… I guess he thinks I'm involved with Savannah and… and keeping him on the side," Derek said, the words distasteful in his own mouth.
"Oh boy," Garcia sighed, sympathetically. "Well, did you tell him that's not true?"
Derek groaned.
"That's the problem. I was so caught up in my head, freaking out about what Spencer meant to me, that I didn't answer him fast enough and he came to his own conclusions. And then we got heated and I said some things I really didn't mean. But he stormed away and locked the door before I could explain myself. He doesn't want to listen to me right now," Derek said sadly.
"Aww, baby-cakes, maybe you should just give him some time right now, ok? And talk in the morning? I'm sure he's hurting bad right now, but if he's that upset he's not going to be able to think rationally at the moment, anyway. Just make sure you explain yourself and that you're extra sweet to him tomorrow, ok?" Garcia offered.
"Yeah, Mama, I'll try that," Derek said despondently. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.
"Let me know how it goes, ok? If you need any help, or if you feel yourself getting stuck on this, just talk to me. I'm on your team, Derek, and I'll support you in anything you do. I want to see you happy," she said.
"Thanks, Penelope. Seriously," Derek said softly.
"Love you," she said.
"Love you more," he responded, before hanging up.
Sighing, Derek opened the balcony door and walked back into his room. Noticing the time, he realized almost an hour had passed since the fight with Spencer. Tentatively, he opened his bedroom door and poked his head out into the hallway. He could no longer hear Spencer's sobs through the door, and that gave him a huge sense of relief. Stepping out, he crossed the hall and tried the doorknob, finding that it was still locked. He frowned. Apparently he really would have to wait until the morning.
Walking back to his room, Derek threw himself on top of the covers and inhaled deeply. His sheets smelled like Spencer. Turning to look to his side, Derek hated that the spot where Spencer had been sleeping for the last five nights was now cold and empty. This was the first night he would be sleeping without Spencer, and Derek found that he really didn't like that idea. He wanted to fix this, and fast. He could hardly wait for morning to come.

A/N: So much angst! I feel like the Angst Monster (like Cookie Monster? Lol); it just feeeeds me. I love raw emotion (or, let me just be honest, maybe I'm a sadist and like to put these two boys through the ringer?). Wahh! Well… you know, there are more chapters. So, chances are I'll consider fixing things between them ;p.
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Pretty Boy: Reprise