Author's Note: Well, things are getting more hectic as the holidays get closer. It's making updating more difficult, but I really want to get this done and I've already thought up a few potential endings. Now I just have to come up with what's happening in the middle...

For my reviewers: Winter Cicada, I'm so glad! We'll see if I can keep it up. Heha, thank goodness. That was the only comment I'd gotten about it, but I've been worried that readers who haven't been reviewing might be thinking along the same lines. I figure if it's fiction, the rules and morals can be a bit more flexible. Kitty Bits, if this one counts as a Christmas present then I'm hoping to give you several. I think I can manage two more chapters in the next five days (thank you, Christmas break). :)

For readers who are reviewing: I hope I'm holding your interest. If you've got a minute, share your thoughts please!

Warning: Nothing *sighs*. Except a little language. No worries, I'll make up for it in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: The original characters and any borrowed plot ideas belong to Mark Gordon Company, and the writers of Criminal Minds. And all the channels that run the episodes, I suppose.

Recap:

Sighing, Spencer look at his lap were a noticeable tent had formed. He turned his thoughts to the consideration of the discrepancies between psychological theory and philosophical debate brought up in a book he'd recently finished, resolving to give Derek his answer the next day in homeroom.

More

Spencer was shaking. Violently. He was a mess. He'd forgotten his lunch. That lunch was meant to keep him from having to enter the cafeteria, let him eat in the very empty library.

Students brushed by him. Talking, laughing, complaining, cursing—

Can those words even go together?

Spencer took a deep breath. He could do this. Really. They didn't even sit together. There was no reason for Derek to acknowledge him before homeroom.

I'm not a coward. I will talk to him. Just…not for a couple more hours. That's not cowardly. Cowardly implies timidity and fear in a dangerous or stressful situa— No, that's not the definition I wanted… Ok, here. Cowardly implies that I'm avoiding danger, pain, or diffic— Damn. I'm a coward. Deep breaths. You can be a coward, there's no shame in that. Embrace it. Hold your head high. Go in and eat your lunch. You do it every day.

That little pep talk got him through the door with his back straight and his walk steady. His eyes were focused dead ahead. So naturally they would meet the one pair that had been trained on the door since lunch started. Cool brown eyes stared right back at him and Derek smirked.

Or look at the floor. That works too. There's nothing different about these walls. You don't need to see them. I wonder what that stain used to be…

And that distraction got him all the way through the lunch line, with a mumbled 'thank you' as he walked off with his tray. But he felt the intensity of Derek's gaze on his neck all the way through.

Now you have to look up. You need to find a spot to sit. Come on, look up.

And again there was Derek.

How is no one else noticing this? They have to feel this atmosphere… No, they don't. Spencer, you're delusional. The so called "atmosphere" is merely the buildup of a subconscious understanding of signals gathered from body language between two or more individuals involved in a method of communication resulting in an emotional—So there's a goddamned atmosphere if I say there is!

Derek's eyes flicked to the empty seat one isle over, the unspoken order more tangible than any atmosphere Spencer could dream up. The space directly across from him. If Spencer sat there he would see Derek every time he looked up. And Derek wouldn't even have to try to keep Spencer in sight.

So why am I sitting here again?

In Spencer's "atmosphere" the clack of his tray on the table shattered sound barriers.

Because he's proven his dominance. Many times over. He's already clubbed me over the head. Figuratively speaking that is.

Spencer fought not to think back to the locker room. That would end in a lot of embarrassment.

Derek was still staring at him. Spencer doggedly plowed through his unidentifiable meat selection. The pressure against his neck was telling him to look up. He'd fought it through soggy vegetables and a mealy apple, avoiding both Derek's eyes and the "meat" on his plate.

I think it just moved…

Since the meat was a lost cause, Spencer had no other excuse not to respond to the command now branded on his forehead. His head felt like a dead weight on his neck as Spencer struggled to lift his eyes up to Derek's.

Has he even blinked?

Derek's smirk became even more smug if that was possible. The overbearing attitude and obvious conceit should have made Spencer at the very least annoyed, if not angry. Instead it pulled at his groin as the now familiar heat simultaneously rose to color his face and sank to linger in his stomach. Based on the increase in the occurrence and pitch of the giggles from the girls at Derek's table, Spencer wasn't the only one feeling the effects.

One of the girls picked that moment to twine her arms around Derek's neck and practically hung off of him. Glancing over her bony arms and claw-like nails the first thought that popped into Spencer's head was 'spider monkey'. But that might have been jealousy speaking, because he could feel it tightening his shoulder's and pursing his lips.

What is wrong with me? They're all over him every day and I've never been jealous before. Ok that's a lie, I was pretty jealous of that one girl in the beginning. But not since then. Just because he wants to use me for a physical outlet—Spencer's flush grew deeper—doesn't make this a committed relationship.

Laughter erupted at Derek's table. Apparently, one of the girls had made some base attempt at humor that had the rest of the table cackling. Derek was laughing too. Spencer was fairly certain it wasn't at the joke. It may have been the delusions wreaking havoc on his brain, but he would bet anything Derek's laughter was because he'd seen Spencer's moment of jealousy. And that was what finally pushed Spencer through embarrassed and annoyed and straight into pissed.

He stood up and grabbed his tray, dumping it down the return as he stormed out of the cafeteria. He even made it through the door without giving in to the urge to look back.

Spencer spent the rest of lunch (a glorious ten minutes) in library.

Having such a short period of time to consume our food is terrible for our digestive systems. But then again, so is the food.

The next three periods passed at crawl, but they were still too fast for Spencer's taste. Typically, he looked forward to homeroom. Since he was considered a responsible student, and he never had any organization obligations, Spencer got to spend homeroom however he pleased. It usually pleased him to spend the whole thirty minutes in the school's substantial library, and at twenty thousand words per minutes Spencer could cover a lot of material.

At first he'd worried that he would run out of books before the year was up, but it turned out that an anonymous donor had gifted the Stewart's High with an exorbitant amount of money with specific instructions to use it for the library. From time to time in his own little fantasy world, Spencer liked to pretend it was a gift just for him. He loved that library. JJ, the librarian, (Spencer was forbidden to call her Ms.) always pulled out the new arrivals that she thought he might be interested in. And since they knew each other so well, none of the other students dared bother him there for fear of drawing her attention.

A respite he wouldn't be getting that afternoon.

Spencer gulped as he trudged to homeroom, weighed down by every textbook he had. On the off chance Derek had been looking for him in the halls, Spencer had grabbed every book early this morning and hadn't been to his locker since. He had also bypassed any bathroom breaks and, to make that less uncomfortable, fluids.

This is pathetic… No, it's not. I am going to talk to him. I mean, he already made the decision for me yesterday, but I have to at least hold a semblance of control in this. He can't just have me on a leash—STOP PERVERTING THAT!

Spencer had to pause and take a moment to think of philosophical theories with his messenger bag held awkwardly in front of his awakening arousal.

Besides, I highly doubt that's one of his preferred scenarios—STOP IT!

He finally gave up and walked quickly to his homeroom. The rest of the class was sent off to club meetings or sentenced to thirty minutes of silent working, while Spencer took a few more minutes to mentally prepare himself.

When that failed miserably, he simply stood up and checked himself out of class.

Spencer's steps echoed through the empty halls as he made his way to Derek's homeroom.

He's going to think I'm stalking him because I know where he is right now. There's no way he'll remember that book I dropped off with his teacher at the beginning of the year. Wait…half his team's in that class! They're all going to think I'm a stalker!

Reid stopped dead and buried one hand in his hair.

What's sad is that might actually get me points with a couple of them. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I have to make sure Derek knows that he can't have all the control in this. I'm putting my foot down.

Spencer looked at his shaking knees.

I'm so screwed.

He wasn't sure how, but he'd made it to the door of the classroom. Derek had the same freedom Spencer did during homeroom, his coming from athletics rather than grades. All Spencer had to do was beckon him out of the room. Keep his voice down, say his piece, and he might even end up with some time in the library after all.

Just duck your head in and wave him out. That's it.

Spencer scooted up to the doorframe and took a deep breath. He leaned his head around the corner—

And didn't have to say a thing because he almost smacked his face into Hotch's chest.

Hotch raised an eyebrow and looked back over his shoulder, "Morgan, I think Reid's here to see you."

Apparently, I'm the only one who thinks I'm a stalker.

Spencer flushed, partly from mild annoyance at the assumption, but his pride slumped in defeat. Why else would he be here? The flush faded when he saw something like surprise flicker across Derek's face. At least one person hadn't thought it obvious.

Then his smirk settled into place and reality clicked.

He couldn't see me through Hotch's chest. If he'd seen me, he would have known I'm here for him.

Spencer sighed hopelessly as Derek approached the door, the rest of the class mumbling behind him and trying not to be obvious with their eavesdropping.

"I'm not going to be able to do this outside the door without them listening, am I?" Spencer grumbled.

Derek chuckled lightly, "Not a chance. We'll have to find a more…secluded location."

Spencer's eyes jerked up and he tried not to shiver, "Don't look at me like that. I just have a few things to say and that's it."

Derek's eyes darkened, "Sure, Pretty Boy, sure. You know what, I've got the perfect spot."

Spencer couldn't hide the tremble that went through him this time. Derek acknowledged it with a predatory grin.

"Come on." He gently maneuvered Spencer from the doorway and started them down the hallway. Gently enough that Spencer started to relax, thinking this might actually go as planned anyway.

They had turned the corner and were headed down the stairwell before Spencer's doubts set in.

"Derek, wait—" Derek's grip on Spencer's arm tightened abruptly.

"Hush."

Spencer began struggling in earnest. "Where-"

"Stop that." Derek jerked his arm roughly. "Remember, you came to me this time."

They're hit the lowest floor of the school, and Spencer knew exactly where they were headed now. They turned one more corner and Derek dragged him through the little hallway into the bottom floor bathroom. He twisted Spencer sharply by the arm, pulling a gasp from his lungs, then shoved back into the wall.

Spencer flinched as his back hit cold cement. The cold disappeared as Derek's body crowded up against him. Spencer squirmed and lifted his hands to push Derek back, "Now, Derek, look—"

Derek snatched Spencer's slender wrists in one hand and pinned them over his head. "I think I will, thanks."

Spencer's legs nearly gave out beneath him when he saw the blatant lust in Derek's eyes as they roamed over his body. Spencer's brain couldn't seem to align that amount of want with the sweater vest and slacks he'd put on that morning.

Spencer tugged at his wrists and attempted to pull away from the wall, fighting his body's desire to arch up into the heat emanating from Derek's larger form.

"Hold still," Derek growled in his ear, caging Spencer's body against the wall with his own. Spencer swallowed a moan as he inhaled Derek's scent. Old Spice flavored with a scent that was all Derek's own body chemistry.

Shouldn't be attracted to his scent... An appreciation for the scent of an individual's sweat indicates complementary immune systems for an offspring... Can't have offspring with him...

Spencer shifted against Derek in his agitation. Mistake. His lips parted in a silent gasp and he gave in, letting his muscles sag against the wall. Any more friction and Derek was going to feel the growing hardness in Spencer's pants.

"Much better." Derek's chuckle rumbled in his chest and shook Spencer's core. "So what was it you wanted to say, Pretty Boy?"

Say…I wanted to say something? Oh oh! I did…It was…Ummm…It was important. Something about…

Teeth sinking into the skin low on his neck tore the moan he'd been fighting and shattered his already befuddled train of thought. He tried to glare up at Derek, but could only manage a pleading stare.

"You were drifting off on me. Keep looking at me like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions," Derek's growl was back, adding to Spencer's arousal.

There was no way Derek couldn't feel it pressing against him. Spencer could certainly feel Derek's pressing into him. Derek was tall enough that the head of his growing erection was digging deliciously into Spencer's stomach. Making him wish for…more. But Spencer wasn't sure what he wanted more of.

"Start talking or I'm going to assume you came to me because you wanted to play," Derek ground his thigh harshly between Spencer's leg, making him sob against Derek's chest.

Words…important…you wanted…

"More…" Spencer gasped out… then froze.

THAT WASN'T IT!

The grip on Spencer's wrists tightened until it was sure to leave bruises and Derek's other hand dug into the skin at Spencer's hip.

"Gladly."

Question for my readers about these potential endings. Are you looking for Derek who really was just a (fabulously dominating) high school jerk from the start, or a sweetish Derek who's still a bit of a (fabulously dominating) jerk?