MAN DOWN
Chapter 1
The basic building block of good teambuilding is for a leader to promote the feeling that every human being is unique and adds value: - unknown
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.
A/N: In a very round about and twisted way this DOES carry on from Maze…You might need to put your brain in sideways to see it. Thank you!! Pb
It's Friday night, which is why I am here having a shower at work. Not something I do everyday, but something I started a long time back when I was Gideon's puppy. I would follow him down here and he would shower and I would stand or sit or pace out in the locker room and fire question after question at him. Mostly I would get answers…Sometimes he would ask me to just go home. Then when he left I carried on…every Friday coming down here, because that is what Spencer does on a Friday. A pattern and I like routine. I feel comfortable knowing this is going to happen every Friday.
Anyway…with Gideon gone there seems to be no point in pacing…and there is no one to question on the day's events and so I started to take the shower myself. I would rather be in the tub, the shower I always feel is for sharing. For the first few weeks nothing much changed. I had my shower and then came out and dried and got dressed…then on about the forth week when I came out Hotch was there. He looked over at me and then looked away, and for a minute maybe more I just stood in the opening to the shower block and stared at him. He was silent. He was in his suit and he didn't look like he was going to have a shower.
I wondered…should I say something? Did he need me for something? I really didn't know why he was there just sitting. I pulled my towel closer and went to my locker…this meant I had my back to him and I knew…. I just could tell that he was watching everything I did.
I kept my back to him as much as I could…and I rubbed the towel over myself trying to get dry as quickly as possible and not give him a display I wasn't prepared to give. It wasn't the easiest of things to do and I was still quite damp when I finally pulled on my boxers and shirt…
And then I turned to face him and yes as I thought he was staring at me. I just stared back for a few seconds and then continued to get dressed. He watched every movement. I could see his eyes following my hands as I finger brushed wet hair off my face. I saw the deep intake of breath as I did up my shirt buttons and then pulled on my brown cords. His eyes locked onto my fingers as I did up my belt and buttoned up my fly.
I thought all along that he would say something. But he didn't. Not a word. Not even a 'hello'…silence. It was strange. Like strip show in reverse. I wondered what pleasure he was getting out of watching me get dressed, but there was something…I could see it in the way his eyes avoided mine. I could see the way his fingers dug into his knees when I roughly dried my hair.
That was the first time.
And things never really changed from then on.
I changed a few things just to see how he would react; like turning the water on cold before I got out so that my nipples stood out….or not drying my top half when I put my short sleeved white shirt on so it stuck to my skin and you could see my pinkness through it.
He reacted.
His fingers dug in deeper to his legs and his eyes watched for longer and the intake of breath was deeper and sharper.
I played with him too…by letting the towel slip a bit too low when I had my back to him. It never lasted long. Just a quick flash…but he never moved from the bench. Not once did he speak…and he never did more than watch. Another thing I did was to let my towel slip a bit at the front….not too much…but so that when I stepped from the showers wet and cold my hip bone stood out as I stood and looked at him for a few seconds…standing carefully…all rehearsed. All carefully planned, but I don't know if he knew that.
So anyway – here I am in the shower and I heard the swoosh sound of the locker room door and a small click. I'm not sure what that was; his keys maybe…his cell phone? I stand and soap my hair and tip my head back and plan on what I am going to do to tease him today.
One day I think he might do something. Say something…touch me; breathe on me…
So I wash the soap off and then work on my body. I make slight splashing sounds and squishing sounds with the soap and wonder what he is imagining I am doing. I massage the soap into my chest and over my neck and across my abdomen and I smile secretly to myself. How much pleasure I am giving this one man just by having a shower every Friday evening.
And now I rinse it all off…and I smell sweet…and my skin is rosy and pink from the warm water. A quick blast of cold…just because I think he likes it better if I look less robust and I turn off the water and grab a towel from the shelf. Shake some of the water off my hair which is getting too long again but I know he wont ask me to cut it. I let it drip down my back and run along my knobbly spine and with my right hip bone beautifully on display. I step from the shower block.
"Hi."
It's not Hotch.
"Morgan!"…my voice comes out as a squeak and I suddenly feel a bit vulnerable and exposed. I pull the towel back up and just stand staring at him.
"Who were you expecting? Hotch? He had to go. Got a call and rushed off."
I am standing with my mouth open not sure what to do now.
"Ah." Is all I manage to say.
"So I came down to see what you two get up to in here every Friday."
I clutch my towel tighter to me and say nothing.
"I've been thinking of joining in."
"I don't understand. I've just had a shower Derek." And I am walking to the locker where my clothes are neatly folded. I have to get out of here quickly.
"I know you've just had a shower Spencer."
And my fingers are slipping over the latch on the locker door and I can feel that stupid panicked shake in my voice and the way it rises in pitch and the way I talk too fast and he will know something is wrong…even if nothing is actually wrong…he will know.
A hand rests on my shoulder. "Come on Spencer. What are you being so shy with me for?"
So I turn to face him and my hands are still holding the towel tightly. "Derek – I don't know what you think goes on down here….but I just have a shower and chat to Hotch."
"Chat to Hotch…like you used to chat to Gideon? Like you chat to that guy at that club you go to?"
I feel my legs are going to give way…what does he know? "Have you been following me?"
I look down and his hand is on my chest and gently he is pushing me so my back is tight against the locker doors.
"Not personally…no. I had you followed."
And his face is too close and his body is too close to mine and all I can do is stand and hold my towel and hope someone walks in.
Oh god…
He's locked the doors.
"Derek…What do you want?" I don't want to look into his eyes…I don't want to see what I might see, so I am looking over his shoulder and now his hand is pressing harder on me and the other is pulling my fingers off the towel.
"What do you think I want?"
My fingers are gone from the comforting fabric of the towel now and all that is holding it up is Morgan's body pressed against mine. I put a hand on his chest and try to push him away from me. "Morgan…please don't do this."
"Turn around."
-o-o-o-
I know as soon as he walks through the door.
He is late home.
He is never this late home and I can smell alcohol on his breath.
And so I don't say anything. I wait to see if he does…which he doesn't.
I've spent my day shopping and now I want to put on my clobber and go out…but he is straight into the bathroom and running the water into the tub. He doesn't even say hello to me. I watch him…I lean on the bathroom door frame and just watch and I wait for him to tell me what the fuck is going on and though I think I know – and I don't want to think that….though I think I know what's happened…I don't know for sure…I don't know the details.
Spence turns and looks at me as he begins to strip and shakes his head.
"I don't want to talk about it."
And I don't move…except for sliding my hands into my pockets and continue to watch him.
"Please Floyd. Just let it be."
And still I don't say anything. I am looking though and I can see marks on his skin that weren't there this morning and I'm not stupid. I can see someone has manhandled him roughly. I can see the marks left from the finger tips of someone holding onto him too tightly.
"Who was it?" The smells from the soap are masking some of the smells and I'm finding it hard to focus in on it.
"It's not important. It's over. It doesn't matter."
And he strips off and throws his dirty clothes into the wash basket.
"It's important to me Spence. I don't want to go kill the wrong person." And I take a few steps forwards and run my fingers over the marks on his chest. There are bite marks on his shoulders…but that was me…the finger marks on his chest though…that is someone else and so I lean in and go to inhale his scent but be backs away and puts a hand out and grasps my hand.
"Don't joke about it. It's not funny and it's over. Leave it."
And he is quickly sliding into the soapy water and pulling his skinny body under the foam.
"If someone raped you…then it is a problem…and I'm not going to leave it…and I will find out who it is." I sit on the edge of the bath and look at his face. He is so beautiful….how can anyone want to hurt him? (anyone except me) I splash him with some bubbles.
"I have this long weekend thing coming up…you haven't forgotten have you?"
He has changed the subject and obviously I haven't forgotten…I've have had to make new plans for the whole weekend. Ones I will enjoy…but still it meant making phone calls and booking a hotel room and shit…
"The team bonding crap….no Spencer I've not forgotten… but haven't you done enough team bonding for one day?"
He just gives me his look and slides deeper into the bubbles…
"I will kill him…I will babes." And I get up off the side of the tub and walk over to the door. "We are going out and you are already a few drinks and a fuck up on me." I turn and look at him. "I'll see you there."
Time has taught me that sometimes it is best to walk away rather than take your anger out on the wrong person. I have taken advise….can't remember who from…but I think it was Emily…count to ten….so I do…I stand in the door way and I count to ten…and each number has a different way I will kill agent Derek Morgan attached to it.
-o-o-o-
I missed my date with Reid.
Again I had forgotten something…Jack's follow up appointment at the hospital. Nothing desperate but I wanted to be there…even if it was to make Haley cross that I had remembered. I would be seeing him all weekend though. We have a team bonding thing to do. Make a raft…climb the obstacle course…and a bit of laser tag I think…or paintball…They haven't yet given all the details…It's not a competition…no prizes at the end but we will be graded. Other groups will be there too…with us it will be myself and Dave and Prentiss and Morgan and Reid. JJ is on annual leave and to be honest I think she would be a hindrance.
Sitting at home now….alone…with a drink in my hand and a take out getting cold on the table in front of me. I had wanted to relax this weekend…I don't know….sit on the back porch with a beer and a book…and put my feet in a bucket of cold water….but it's too hot…I missed my Friday appointment and now my weekend is going to be taken up leading what is probably going to be a moody bunch of profilers doing raft making and laser tag when we would all rather be doing something else.
There is one upside.
I will get to see Spencer all sweaty and hot and bothered – but for now it's just me.
I flick through the television channels and settle on turning it off. So much junk is produced these days it makes my head spin. The studios seem to be in competition over who can make the best or is it worst rubbish. I think about listening to music…but that would mean getting up and right now all I want to do is sit here.
And so I close my eyes and think about what I saw last week and I know he is teasing me. I know. I don't know if he realises that…I'm not saying anything all the time he keeps up the nice little floor show for me.
We're not hurting anyone.
He doesn't mind. He obviously doesn't mind. He plays the game…and he plays it oh so very nicely. The slipping of the towel…the water running down his back…the choice of clothing he puts on.
……………..ah now there is another game. He sometimes brings spare clothing. I don't know what he is going to put on until he reaches into the locker and pulls it out.
I lean back and my face is turned to the ceiling and my hands are now on my knees with my drink balanced on the cushion next to me. I can see that mole on his back…I can see the water running out of his hair…that hair I need to tell him to cut…but…
Another sigh. Yes I must tell him to get it cut before Strauss tells me to tell him…just a trim….nothing desperate…so it flicks in at the nape of his neck and I can see that pink, no that white flesh on the back of his neck…that long neck…
I take a long chug from my tumbler and look at the food again. I really should….I need to eat…especially as I don't know what we will get over the next couple of days…only one evening…one sleep…just the one…and again images flicker through my head of a sleeping Reid and how young and pretty he looks. How delicate and vulnerable.
I decide on a cool shower and an early night. I will read….I will find something to read. It's going to be a long couple of days…
As I stand I wonder what Spencer is doing now. He keeps his private life so private. He lets no one in. I did ask him once and he just shrugged and said there was nothing to tell…but there is. I'm a profiler. Does he really think I don't know he has someone?
-o-o-o-
I know what I am going to do.
I know exactly what I will do.
He won't know what's hit him.
Though I think he will guess when he feels the pain and see the blood. If he lives long enough to have thoughts.
And the next couple of days are perfect timing.
A/N: Thank you….feed back is loved and rewarded with cookies.
