The Essentials of Sociology

Chapter Nine: Does This Dress Make My Butt Look Big?

A/N: I wrote this chapter with one goal in my mind: Get Spencer in a Dress. I failed... sort of.

-Swag, Swag, Swag on Blue

Song Used (ain't mine): London Bridges by Fergie

Spencer stared back at Derek, clutching the book in his hands. How did Derek get this? Why was he so serious about it? What is so important about his sociology textbook that Derek had to run to his car to even hand it to him? He glanced up at Derek, whom began to explain.

"You see, I was pretty inebriated New Year's Eve. I mean, whoa, I was smashed," Derek started, wringing his hands and keeping eye contact with Spencer, "But, I didn't black out. Well, not that soon, but—"

Spencer sighed and held the book to his chest, "Just… start at the beginning."

Derek replied, "Well, I drove to the party with Emily, because I knew I was gonna get wasted. That's what New Year's Eve is for. And then, you know, I ordered myself a glass of tequila and snatched some chocolate off of the table before I went huntin'."

"Wait, wait, wait," Spencer stopped him, "Huntin'?"

Derek shrugged, "You know, searching out the ladies. They don't find you, you find them."

"Okay, whatever. Continue."

"Just a question though," Derek raised an eyebrow, "Are you gay?"

Spencer rolled his eyes and pulled the book closer, "This is not the time or place."

The taller agent shrugged and replied, "Speaking of, are you sure we should be talking this out in the freezing cold?"

"Not really," Spencer decided, turning to unlock and open his door, "We're continuing this inside. Don't even think about laying a finger on me until you finish your story."

Clearly happy for the reprieve, Derek followed Spencer into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Spencer had walked into the kitchen and told him to take a seat while he got them a drink. Derek obeyed quietly, pacing to the living room couch and sitting on a comfortable, old cushion. A moment later, Spencer returned with two bottles, sitting beside Derek and handing him one. He unscrewed his with a smile and took a swig, waiting for Derek's reaction. His coworker quickly replied, "Oh, Coke."

Spencer smiled, "Never turn your back on me."

"Well, what's yours?"

He smiled broader, "A Bud."

Derek returned his smile with a crinkle of his eye. You know, the smile that Spencer really likes. This is the one that says a million different things in every language that he can't speak. Spencer cleared his throat and said in a more contained voice, "I'm supposed to be listening to a story. You know, the one about the night that you told me you couldn't remember."

"Alright, alright…" Derek sighed and went back into the tale, "So, I found these three girls sitting at a table giggling, whispering and looking my way. And we all know what that means."

Spencer paused, "I… I don't know what that means…"

"It means they're talking about you. Like, really checking you out," Derek said with a cocky grin, "So, I went up to the ladies, and struck up a conversation. I got them a round of cocktails and we were having a nice time just chatting. Then, I saw you."

"Me?"

Derek chuckled, "Yeah. You. You were sitting on the other side of the room, sulking, and reading. God, you did not want to be there. Everybody could tell. One of the girls followed my eyes and wanted to know if I knew you, and I said I did. They asked who you were, and I told them you were my coworker. Then, they asked where we worked, and, well, I had to take the badge out. You know, for proof."

Spencer shook his head and took a sip of his beer, "Of course."

"Will you let me tell this story?"

Spencer laughed and waved him on to continue.

"It was totally proof! Why would I have my badge out, if I wasn't?" Derek chuckled and delved back into it, "Anyway, they were impressed. They told me to invite you over and… I got nervous. I mean, I was getting tipsy, but I was cognitive enough to know that I might… well… say or do something stupid when you came over. You would have impressed them way better than I could have with your vast knowledge of… everything. They would have forgotten about me in an instant."

The young doctor set his beer down and said, "You're lying."

Derek laughed, "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. Your eyes do this thing… when you're being dishonest, I can tell. What happened with those girls that you didn't want me to see?" Spencer asked.

His coworker replied with a faint nervous clench of his hands around the bottle, "I had a thing for you, okay? I was teetering on the sober line and Lord knows what I would have said if they invited you over and I got upset at the attention they gave you. I could have yelled at one of the girls, or, worse… I could have told you how I felt. At the time, I didn't know that there was any possibility on Earth that we could ever… I just didn't have the confidence. So, I chatted them up, and flirted my ass off for two different reasons that made sense in my inebriated mind. One: If I pretended one of them were you, I would somehow magically get over my fear of asking you out. Two: I thought that if you saw me flirting with them, I'd see if you got jealous or not. If you did, then you could possibly like me a little… I know. Totally stupid—"

Spencer leaned over Derek's bottle and kissed his cheek, "It's okay. It made sense at the time."

Derek took a deep breath and licked his lower lip the way he does when he's embarrassed, "Oh, yeah… it did. And… then I saw you dancing with Garcia. That was okay. I knew Garcia had Kevin, so no big deal there. Then you disappeared. I left the girls looking for you, but by then, I had already had about four tequilas and a shot of something the girls said was good. Then everybody was saying stuff at the same time—the countdown I guess. And you were just sitting there, alone. Reading your book, and flipping the pages. I was thinking… 'Damn. You are just so… beautiful.' The lei and party hat made it all better."

"Shut up," Spencer blushed.

Derek smiled, "Nope. At that moment, I decided… what the hell? So, I hopped on your lap, grabbed your face and kissed you when the New Year rung in. Then I woke up on the floor of my kitchen in my underwear—that is one hundred percent true. It was cold and super uncomfortable, and I had the Mother of all Hangovers, but I was using this book as a pillow. So, I looked at it. I hadn't taken a Sociology course since my junior year of college, so I had no clue why it was there. Then I remembered that it was January 1st, and I went to a party the other night with my coworkers. Then, I thought… which one of my coworkers was lame enough to bring a Sociology textbook to a wild bar party…"

Spencer raised a hand, "And that's why you grilled me?"

"No. I knew how most of the night went, but… I didn't know why I ended up cuddling your textbook. I thought that maybe kissing you was a dream or something, but you were acting all weird on Monday, so… I put two and two together and tried to get you to admit it happened."

Spencer's face broke out in a grin as he teased, "Is it because you like me?"

Derek shook his head, eyes glued to the couch, "Come on, Spencer. Grow up."

The doctor continued to tease, poking a finger into Derek's knee, "Is it because you think I'm cute?"

Derek groaned, "Spence."

Spencer tapped the finger harder on his leg, "Is it because I make your kokoro go doki-doki?"

Derek paused, "What does that even mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I need to stop reading Japanese publications," Spencer denounced.

"Is it sexual?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, it sounds sexual."

"Pretty sure it's not."

"What? Do you speak Japanese?"

"I'm not fluent."

"Spence, I asked if you spoke Japanese."

"And I said I wasn't fluent."

"That's not a straight answer."

"Technically it is. You see, you asked if I spoke the language, and by saying that I wasn't fluent, I alluded that I have tried to learn and have earned at least an elementary understanding of the language. I may not be able to deduce all words in the language and be able to relay them back in English, or even in words both of us… why are you looking at me like that?"

Derek shrugged and glanced into Spencer's eyes, "I'm not looking at you any kind of way."

"Yes, you are," Spencer deduced, "Am I bothering you? I am, aren't I? I was talking too much! That's what it was, right? I have to stop doing that. Promise me anytime I start rambling, to just stop me, because I will talk forever. Seriously, once I start it just keeps coming and coming. I mean, I know I'm going to end up doing it, but I always go ahead and begin talking even when I know I'm going to bore someone out of their skull. It's like I'm a lemming or something. Even though lemmings don't actually jump off of—"

Derek began to laugh, "Spencer, it's fine. I like it."

Spencer paused, "…you do?"

Derek shrugged and clapped Spencer on the shoulder, "Believe it or not, yeah. I really do. It's one of the things I most like about you actually. You're passionate about almost everything and it's… well, it's kind of cute."

"But, I once heard the worst murder is being talked to death," Spencer replied.

"Sounds more like sweet death to me," Derek winked.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "Isn't 'sweet death' the term associated with dying while in coitus?"

"Yeah, but I always thought it was a myth," Derek shrugged, "I mean, you can't really get fucked to death, can you?"

Spencer nodded slowly.

"Well, shit," Derek said with a large grin, "That's how I wanna go out!"

The next morning at work was doomed to be an awkward one. Spencer is horrible at keeping secrets, and Derek is just so damned open about his sex life, that it wouldn't be a shock if they were caught within the first few hours of their Monday shift. Gripping his satchel tight to his side, Spencer walked slowly into the bullpen to find Derek there early. He was standing by Prentiss's desk having a casual morning conversation with her. Spencer ducked behind Rossi's desk, hoping that he could just sneak in quietly as he heard Derek's voice call out, "You know I can see you, right, Reid?" Oh. So, he's Reid now? That makes a lot of sense, since they're at work and need to be professional and will spend the entire day in a room full of goddamned profilers.

Spencer popped up from behind the large window, "Hey… Morgan."

Prentiss waved, "Morning, Reid."

"Morning."

Derek chuckled, "And a good one it is, huh? How was your weekend, Reid?"

Prentiss raised her palms before Spencer could give an answer and blurted out, "No! Last time I asked him that, I was stuck beside him for a half hour. I love you, Reid. But… no."

Spencer shrugged and continued on to his desk, listening quietly as the two began talking again. Their conversation was quite tepid. They threw around weather topics, then noted the last case they'd had in Colorado. Lastly, they spoke of their weekend. Prentiss apparently visited her mom over in Washington. The trip was agonizing, and she was reminded once again why they don't usually keep in close contact. Morgan decided to stray closely to the truth when asked how he spent his days.

"I… hung out with a friend."

Prentiss paused and then began to laugh, "Bullshit."

"No it's not! Honestly, I spent the weekend with a friend."

Spencer sighed quietly at his desk and pulled out a file from his desk to scribble on while he listened. It was true. They were friends. Even though they had a set date, they said that they'd cross that bridge when they got to it before Derek kissed him goodnight. Counting the dinner on Friday, and the basketball fiasco on Saturday, and the McDonalds revelation on Sunday, they did spend the weekend together as well. Derek's in the clear.

Prentiss's voice rang out again in a more hushed tone, "What's her name?"

Derek paused, "Excuse me?"

"You totally spent the weekend with a girl."

Derek avoided the topic casually, "Either way, it was a nice time."

Prentiss began to laugh, "A hella nice time. I see that hickey on your neck. You're going to have to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool me, Morgan."

Wait, huh? A hickey? Spencer couldn't have given him that! They did spend an awfully long amount of time on the couch after Derek told the tale of New Year's night, but he couldn't have… oh. He remembers… they were kissing. It was really nice. Not too fast. Not too slow. It was perfect. Derek's hands were caressing his upper back and fit easily around his hips. God, he was so good at this. Pushing Spencer away from all of the crap life throws at him, and tying him down to these few moments they shared. He tasted so good, he smelled so amazing, and he just had to tease Spencer's sensitive lips with a gentle bite every now and then, eliciting small moans and heightened excitement. Spencer's morals kind of… teetered. He had slid his hands under Derek's shirt and pulled it easily off of him, moving his lips from Derek's to attack his neck like a hungry vampire. He had completely forgotten that there would be consequences to that.

Derek shrugged, "So what? We had a little fun. Who are you, my mom?"

"Nope," Prentiss said with a secretive smile, "Just wondering why you felt you needed to lie."

"I didn't lie!" Derek protested as she walked off to her desk, whistling a knowing tune, "Prentiss! You're plotting something, I just know it!"

She sat down in her seat and ruffled some papers, saying in that too sweet voice, "What are you talking about?"

Spencer gulped, and continued on with his work. If there was anyone in the office he could be afraid of, it was Emily. She just had that hawkish, don't-fuck-with-me look about her when she was determined to get something done. Right now, it seems that all she wants to do is bother Morgan, and with that she's succeeded. But, if this escalates into something more and she actually starts digging, they're going to be exposed in no time.

About twenty minutes later, JJ was calling them into the briefing room. There was yet another crime to attend to. Rossi had shown up ten minutes ago, and had left first for the briefing room, quickly followed by Prentiss. Next, Hotch had left his office and walked down the runway to the room. Spencer stood, stuffing papers into his satchel and walked by Derek's desk, "Hurry up."

Derek raised a hand, "Hey, could you wait for me? I'm just finishing up one little thing."

Spencer stopped walking and backtracked, leaning over the divider to whisper, "If I wait for you, won't people notice that we're…"

Derek glanced up from a file, "What? Acting normal? God forbid."

Spencer shrugged and waited, his eyes following the curve of the back of Derek's neck, dipping into a baby blue thermal. He bit his lip as Derek stood and closed the file, smacking his rear before striding ahead of him. Spencer ground his teeth and hissed, "Hey!"

His coworker began to chuckle under his breath, "Dat ass, Spencer. Dat ass."

Growling, Spencer followed him into the room with a glare on his face which Hotch immediately noticed. The team leader asked what was wrong, and Spencer mumbled a quiet, "Nothing." The meeting progressed. Three girls have had their throats cut, and were left for dead in the alleyways of North Philadelphia. They all followed the same profile: young, fairly small in stature, and African American. Although the first two murders didn't show any signs of assault, the final one did—a violent, blunt head wound that seems like she was quickly sedated before she was killed. There was not much evidence to go on. North Philadelphia was frequented often by people of all walks of life. Businessmen, volunteers, white and blue collar workers, you name it. There were no tire tracks around, and no signs of harassment before or after the murder. It was done quickly and simply. Usually, the FBI wouldn't be dragged into a case like this, especially in a place with such large PD jurisdiction, but one of the girls murdered was from Louisiana, making this a national case. Wheels went up in twenty.

JJ walked over to Spencer as the room cleared, giving a final look to Derek before he left. She folded her arms and waited. Spencer looked around the empty room, "What?"

She shrugged, "That's what I want to know."

"What do you mean?"

JJ asked, "What happened between you and Morgan this weekend? Was it nothing? Did he stop questioning you? Did you tell him?"

Spencer blushed and answered all of her questions, "Something happened. It wasn't nothing. He stopped questioning me, and I didn't have to tell him. He already knew… mostly."

"Wait, he knew you two kissed?" JJ asked with a confused look on her face.

Spencer nodded, "Yeah. He just… needed time, I guess."

"And… when did you find all of this out?"

Spencer shrugged and replied, "On our not-date."

"…not-date?"

"Yeah, you see, we had another argument Monday night and decided to go to dinner on Friday to patch it all up. We patched it up, and he asked to see me Saturday to watch basketball. That was all well and good, but we just couldn't seem to keep our hands off of each other in a private setting and I got upset again and left. Then he sent me a bajillion messages and asked me out. I said no, but we went to a casual not-date thing at McDonalds, got sassed out by a six-year-old, kissed some more and hey, now we have a date Friday night. Help me, please."

JJ blinked and tried to piece it all together, "… all of that happened in three days?"

"Most of it, yes."

She let out a huge breath of air, "Jeez, kid."

"I know, right?"

The plane ride went by as per usual. Within minutes, Spencer was asleep on the couch in his usual spot. It was right under the heating vent, and when he curled up just so, it blew right between his shoulder blades. It felt wonderful, the soft humming of the plane was lulling him through REM and carrying him gently to a dream.

Derek was home. He was just walking in through the front door of his apartment. There was such a joy in Spencer's heart when he felt the door close. He scurried out of the kitchen just in time for Derek to round the corner and press a warm kiss to his lips. Derek took off his hat and set it on the table, "What's for dinner, honey?"

Spencer turned back to his kitchen to see a pot of boiling rice, another one of stewing chicken, and a small pan that held the smell of fricasseed onions, peppers, and diced potatoes. There was this air of pride around the kitchen the surrounded the dinner. He must have made it. Odd. Spencer's a horrible cook. He announced what was for dinner, receiving him another kiss from Derek. Wow. He could get used to that. Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's waist and untied something. Spencer looked down to notice that it was not only a red and white checkered apron now leaving his hips, but he was adorned in a small, yet cutely styled dress. Okay, what's going on here?

Derek smiled, "I'm so glad I married such a wonderful woman."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, "I'm a guy."

Derek laughed quietly, stroking his face, "Of course you are, honey."

Spencer turned and folded his arms. He turned off the oven and sighed in disappointment as Derek ran a hand down Spencer's back, landing softly on his rear. Derek moved closer, pressing his back against his stable chest before whispering in Spencer's ear, "Your ass is a work of art, baby girl."

"I'm not a girl," Spencer argued feebly as Derek nibbled on his ear and ran his hands down his waist. Why can't Derek see? He's not a girl. He never will be a girl.

He turned around in his supposed husband's embrace and looked into his eyes. Damn was this man happy. Derek smiled, "I'm so glad we started dating, Spencer. I always knew I would marry a woman like you."

"But, I'm not a woman. I'm not."

"Reid. Reid, hey," Derek's voice rang out as a hand gripped his shoulder lightly to rouse him from his sleep, "We're landing in three minutes, man. Up and at 'em."

Spencer, still stuck in his dream, exclaimed loudly, "I'm not a woman!"

Derek began to laugh, rubbing his hand on Spencer's back before playfully clipping the back of his head, "Of course you're not. I never said you were."

"No," he murmured, "… but what if I was one…"

Derek shrugged, "You'd be paid less and treated with half the respect you have now."

That one earned the agent a playful smack from Prentiss and a glare from JJ. Although Spencer doesn't believe in analyzing dreams, this one did give him a lot to think about. Derek's been chasing women all his life. He highly doubts that Derek woke up one day when he was fourteen and said to himself, "You know what? One day, I'm going to fall in love and it's going to be with a skinny white boy from Las Vegas with barely satisfactory social skills." Spencer doesn't know why this sudden attraction and change in behavior occurred. Pursuing someone like him was very strange, and proved to be… worrying. There seemed to be more to uncover.

In his satchel, his cell phone started loudly singing an obscene sounding song about the London Bridge and began vibrating gently against the side of his pants. "All my girls get down on the floor… Back to back now drop it real low…" Spencer started to dig into his bag to find the offending phone as every member of the plane began looking his way. Shit. He does not remember getting this ringtone. "I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho… 'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go…" Where was this dammit phone? He started grabbing books out and shifting papers to find it. Find it, find it, FIND IT! "How come every time you come around, my London, London Bridge want to go down. Like London, London, London wanna go down, like London, London, London be going down like…" Spencer's hand connected with a boxy type thing that had to be his phone. He pulled it out, and put in the passcode. Which didn't work. Why did it not work? "The Grey Goose got your girl feeling loose… Now I'm wishing that I didn't wear these shoes…" He typed in his passcode again, and again, and again. Nothing! What was going on? "It's like every time I get up on these dudes… the paparazzi put my business in the news…" Spencer looked back at his coworkers whom were all looking at him differently. Prentiss was amused, JJ was concerned, Hotch was raising his eyebrow, and Rossi looked downright disgusted. Oh, and Derek? He was laughing his ass off.

Spencer glared at him and thrust the phone in his face, "Turn. This shit. Off."

Derek was doubled over, and took the phone, typing in the new passcode he must have set for it and turning the ringtone off. Still chuckling, he handed it back, "That's what you get for the Coke-Beer trick. You started it."

Hotch rolled his eyes and looked over at the two boys with authority, "Not again."

"Oh, it's happening again. Except this time, I'm playing for real," Derek said with a smile.

Spencer folded his arms and mumbled under his breath, "I will crush you."

Derek asked with an amused grin, "What?"

Spencer shrugged as the plane's wheels touched the ground, "You heard me."

A/N: Truth be told, I've written like four chapters ahead, so I don't really know what to say at this point. Don't be afraid to review/alert/favorite if you're new to the story. (I'm one to get scared of a plotbunny, so I leave stories I might not hate completely to die in the garbage. And I don't like dying in the garbage.) Plus, I get emails every time you do, and every one of those emails equals love.

One thing you should know from the get-go is I don't bribe updates with forced love. I stay on top of my shit and update when I say I will. If I make a promise, I'm keeping it. Every once and a while, I'll update early because I've written a lot, but ever since I published the first chapter, my stories come in every week Sunday Night-Tuesday Afternoon at the latest. I won't play with you and say next week when I mean next month.

That's bullshit.

And I don't bullshit.

-Bluezerwizzer