A/N: Derek Hough is in this chapter because I'm kind of in love with him alright jeez I said it god leave me alone let it go.

Smooches,

Blue

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER TWO: #TeamWildCard

The night of their first dance came quickly; quicker than expected. After a long week of sweat, swears, and hard work, it was finally time to reveal what they've been working on to everyone in America, Canada, and some provinces in the British Isles. To add to the load, Derek and Spencer were also about to introduce the first same-sex team to ever exist on the show in the history of ever. But, no pressure, right? None.

Ha.

Ha, ha!

ROTFLMAO!

Derek's shoulders hadn't been this tense since he was starting to get scouted at Northwestern, and Spencer had noticed. By their fifth and final rehearsal in the studio, Derek was getting twitchy with all of the stress. When the rehearsal concluded and the two men looked out of the gigantic window to see the inky black sky reflected from the hardwood floor, Spencer sighed loudly and conspicuously. Derek let out a small laugh and glanced over to him, "Did you have something you wanted to share with the class, Reid?"

Spencer scrunched up his face and looked up at Derek with a mischievous look in his eyes, "I'm not supposed to do this, but..."

Derek's ears perked up at the sound of Spencer doing something he shouldn't, "But, what?"

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear, "You're so nervous that you're making me nervous. Seriously, you're just like a big stress ball, dude, chill out."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Is this you trying to comfort me?"

"No. This is me trying to comfort you," Spencer replied, standing and glancing toward the door to the break room, "Stay here, would you?"

Derek answered, "Uh... sure?"

Spencer smiled widely, the sun damn near shining out of his face as he did so. He sprinted to the other side of the room and made his way out of the door. Derek blinked and sat there on top of his duffle bag, confused as all Hell. Glancing toward the door, he flinched as he heard the microwave going. Okay, Derek is officially scared as shit. What's going on in there?

He spared another glance and Spencer was still in there, leaving him alone with his thoughts as he microwaved something all suspicious-like. Derek gulped. Please, Dear God, don't let whatever Spencer's doing in there be gross. Spencer looks like the mad scientist type. There are probably eyeballs in his fridge back home or something. Or maybe he doesn't even live at home. Spencer probably lives in the studio. That would explain why he always gets there five hours earlier than Derek does every day.

Derek heard a crinkling noise and Spencer hurried back into the room carrying a greasy telling bag. He paused. Then, Derek spoke, "Fuck outta here. That's not what I think it is?"

Spencer fell gracefully to the hardwood floor beside him and opened the bag, "This was used as stress release for generations, dating back to Pharoahs' time. Our ancestors before Christ used it to lift moods, spirits, and put hope in the eyes of commiserating men."

Derek laughed, "You're so weird."

"Thank you," Spencer raised the bag to Derek, "And here, I give to you... the great remedy, the international healer, manna from the gods..."

Derek shook his head and pushed Spencer's shoulder, "Get on with it, man!"

Spencer grinned, "Comfort food. To be exact, one Big Mac with extra cheese. You're welcome."

"Whoa! No way!" Derek reached in and grabbed at a cardboard box, holding that neat little treasure inside. He opened it and saw it sitting there, its pickles winking at them with a wry smile, "Dude, I haven't had McDonalds in fourteen years. I'm close to having a nervous breakdown. Are there fries in there?"

Spencer shook his head, "No, they don't reheat well, so, I got some McNuggets instead. Don't worry about anyone finding out, I got the cameras shut off early so no one will no I did this. Just... don't tell the producers that I encouraged an unhealthy diet. And they're not called nervous breakdowns anymore, the new term is 'major depressive episode'."

Derek wrapped an arm around him, "Boy, you're alright."

Spencer smiled up at him as Derek mussed his hair, "You think so?"

Derek pressed his forehead to Spencer's, "I know so. Wait."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes, "What?"

Derek moved his forehead off of Spencer's, "Why are you doing this? You were kicking my ass all week, man, there's no reason you'd be nice to me without there being a catch."

Spencer shrugged, "There's no catch. You just... looked upset. Nervous, anxious. I certainly wasn't helping by yelling you into submission every day; even though I was doing so for good reason. Your form was that of a diseased camel, your posture made me want to kill myself, you stomp across a room for goodness sake—I had to break you out of that horrible, horrible habit, because I do not dance with Stompers."

Derek sighed, "Okay, okay, okay! I was a bad dancer. I know."

Spencer scoffed, "You're not a bad dancer. You actually have more potential than any of the other stars I've previously worked with. You're an athlete, you have conditioned yourself to work hard under pressure, sweat, push yourself, persevere! You are exactly the perfect clay to mold into a fine dancer. Thing is, to mold, one must pull off and press in what works and doesn't work, understand?"

Derek paused, "So, you molded me?"

Spencer chuckled, "Oh, please. I've barely begun."

Derek grumbled, "Christ..."

"I know, I know, Mister Moan Bitch Complain. It sucks to be you," Spence reached around and patted his back, "Now, eat. You've earned it. It won't make our looming task go away, but I promise you, it will feel awesome."

Derek grinned, "I'm so excited for this fricken sandwich, man."

Spencer rolled his eyes and pulled out of Derek's embrace, reaching in the bag, "You think I didn't get myself one too?"

And, so, the two opened the boxes of food and dug in. The room was mostly quiet for five whole minutes, save for the sounds of chewing and smothered moans. Turns out, Spencer ate like a linebacker—Derek should know, he was one once. Spencer pushed his hair behind his ears and literally put the sandwich on his face and then started eating. It was gross, and boyish, and cute as Hell. Derek liked to think he himself ate with more dignity, but that was only minutely true.

The burgers were gone in a matter of minutes, and before long, Spencer was pulling out the box of nuggets. Glorious, glorious nuggets. All twenty golden and warm strips, sat in their own pretty little box. Derek reached for it at the same time Spencer did and their hands brushed. He could feel his face gathering blood as Spencer's warm, thin pinky collided with his. Spencer cleared his throat, "G-go ahead. You can take the first one."

Derek looked over at Spencer to see his slightly pink face with mustard smeared on his cheek and "special sauce" on his chin. Before he could get anything out, he began laughing. Spencer cocked his head to the side, "What?"

"You have a little something," Derek chuckled, gesturing to his own face, "Like... everywhere, dude."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and raising the edge of his blue Joffrey sweatshirt, "Darn."

Derek raised his hands, "Stop! That's gross, man, come on."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Please, we all do it."

Derek grabbed a napkin and moved toward Spencer's face and the dancer's eyes grew wide. Noticing what he was actually doing, Derek's face changed from "gotta get this thing off my buddy's face" to "why the hell am I wiping my buddy's face" in a split second. Derek paused the napkin in the air, "I probably shouldn't go through with that, should I?"

Spencer burst out laughing, a really geeky sound with chuckles and gasps and the occasional snort. Derek smiled easily, watching the man beside him fall apart in a pile of snickers.

It's been five days. And Derek's already fucked.

The deafening roar of the crowd pierced the crowded Red Room as all of the stars, dancers, make-up crew, and PAs were shoved into a 30x30 space. Spencer stood beside Derek, face powdered and eyelashes just a bit longer and darker than he remembered. He was quiet, and kept moving up and down. After glancing down, Derek noticed that he was flexing and releasing in a long loop of demi rises. He was nervous too. Derek leaned over, "Shaking in your boots, Puss?"

Spencer mumbled, "I have no clue what's going to happen when we get out there."

Derek glanced back, "Me neither."

Spencer scoffed, "I mean, I'm not scared or anything. I'm a professional. Dancing is what I do, it's just the whole... grabbing ballroom stereotypes and scissor kicking them into that gigantic, freaking hole-thing in '300'. You know? I could possibly be 'this is Sparta'-ing my career. Into the hole."

Derek chuckled, "Come on, man. You've been on this show since the beginning of time. People respect you!"

Spencer stiffened, "I wouldn't be so sure."

Derek patted his shoulder, "Well, when you feel down, just remember... we're responsible for setting the standard for the entire American perception of same-sex formal dance. And you're doing all of this with a straight-acting football player who's reputation is also taking a swan dive into Hades."

Spencer grumbled, "Yeah, thanks for that."

Derek slapped the shoulder and gripped it, "You're welcome, buddy!"

"Wait, did you just say straight-acting?" Spencer's eyes widened.

Derek raised his hand, heading away from him into the crowd, "Hey, Peta! Could you sign my abs?"

The two men were placed last in the line up after spending the better part of a half hour crammed into the Red Room. The little music came on and all of the couples began walking down the steps before them. Derek took a deep breath backstage and pulled on the collar of his costume—which was a white undershirt-like tank top, a pair of black dance pants that looked like Dickies, and black jazz shoes. Spencer's answering costume was similar, but instead of a white tank, he wore a grey, slim-fitting tee shirt with a tight black thermal underneath and his hair was pulled back sloppily. After days on top of days seeing the young man in baggy sweatshirts and zip ups, it was quite a shock to see how he was built. He's gorgeous, but very subtle about it. To the point where it seems as if he has no clue just how pretty he is. Spencer's body is slight, and seemingly fragile, but it's corded with a soft, thin musculature that comes with a lot of swimming, but his arms messed up that equation because he's got the beginnings of biceps that come with lifting things. It's probably all of that dancing, tightening up his core and raising women above his head puffing out his fragile chest and soft-looking arms.

Derek shifted on his heels before the stairs and watched as Penelope and her partner scurried up, nearly late for their "almost" cue.

She was wearing a sparkly pink flight attendant's uniform and Derek grinned at the sight of her. Penelope was a living breath of sunshine, and thank God for her. She didn't look not one ounce of nervous and hugged him the moment she saw him, "Hi! How are you doing, Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"

Derek wrapped his arms around the bubbly woman, her mood was infectious and catching, "I'm doing just fine, angel. Look at you, you look gorgeous! Turn for me, baby girl."

Penelope tossed up a hand and turned, giving him full view of her wonderful costume that was damn near made for her delightfully curvy boy, "Aren't I the prettiest thing you ever did see?"

Derek pressed a hand to his chest, "You're stunning, my love. A vision."

She giggled, patting her curls, "Oh, you must cease. You have one hour to stop that immediately."

Gleb tapped her on the shoulder and said calmly, "Our cue, Pen."

She waved and allowed herself to be led away by her handsome companion, "Ta-ta! Good luck!"

"You too!" Derek called after her, grin still plastered on his face.

Spencer watched after her as well, nudging Derek, "You two know each other?"

Derek shrugged, "Not really, no."

Spencer laughed and tugged on Derek's arm, "Come on. We're up next to walk."

Derek smiled over at him, "Let's do this thing."

He followed Spencer to the edge of the steps and they started down them. The lights were bright and blaring into his face. Derek kept his chin raised the way Spencer told him to, giving the judges a good first impression of him. Spencer walked beside him, letting go of his arm and they continued with the strategy they were going for: the 'dude buddies' strategy.

They aimed to give out the air that they were best friends; the type that played X-box over the other's house, picked up chicks at the bar together, and just happened to have passionate chemistry on a dance floor in front of a live audience every Monday. They cleared halfway down the steps as their names were called as a dance couple and the audience sucked in the biggest gasp in the fucking universe as their unconventional partnership was revealed.

Derek's pretty sure that the room was entirely made up of unused oxygen by the way they held their breaths.

Spencer had told Derek that it would be a possibility that they'd react badly. He said, if they did, the two of them had to give out the biggest we-are-just-friends-don't-worry-guys-we-are-toates -sucking-it-up-for-the-camera attitude that they could. The last thing they needed was for the audience to see gayand get scared. That's why the producers were keeping their dances as quick and friendly as possible until they have nothing else but ballroom left.

Spencer playfully jabbed Derek in the shoulder and Derek chose to lean over and suddenly ruffle Spencer's hair, hearing his unplanned actual protest before pulling him into a shoulder hug that Spencer tried to escape as soon as they got down the steps. Growling and heading over to the line-up, Spencer pulled the hair tie out and placed his hair back where it was, "I'm going to kill you."

Derek grinned and stood beside him with the long line of dancers, "Not in front of the cameras, honey."

The camera man swept the lens through the group and they all made faces at it, including Derek and Spencer. The lights flashed twice and the cameraman raised four fingers, "Cut to commercial! We've got four minutes to get upstage, people!"

Spencer pushed Derek's shoulder angrily, "I don't like my hair mussed."

Derek laughed and pushed him back, "You didn't seam to mind Saturday night."

"Hi! Hi, hello!" Penelope poked her head between the two, "If you two want to cut through the miles of sexual tension between you so we can get up the stairs, that would be great. Just sayin'."

Spencer flushed and turned to the lighted stairs on the side of the stage and headed up them, Derek on his trail as the group followed them up to the balcony filled with couches and tables for them to sit at to wait their turn. The crowd was cheering as they made their way up the stairs and Derek heard a distinct group shouting his jersey number, "43! 43! We reppin' 43! 43!"

Derek glanced off of the edge of the balcony to see five of his teammates at the edge of the stage just as excited, and loud, and ratchet as can be. Nick, Liam, Marcus, and Kalil clapped as he looked over at him, Liam yelling, "Yeah, Derek! That's what I'm talkin' about, baby! You Tango with that white boy! Kick they ass! I see you, 43! I see you!"

"Ah, jeez..." ducking his head, Derek waved them off with embarrassment and entered the balcony setting. Spencer headed straight for the coffee machine beside the end table and Derek sat on the couch beside him, "You know, one day, you're going to get your blood drawn and all the doctors are going to find is creamer."

Spencer filled a mug and sat close to his side afterward, "I heard your friends. They seem nice."

"They seem it, don't they?" Derek looked over the edge of the balcony to see them still clapping and acting a mess, "They're the best. They'll humiliate the shit out of me though. With no thought to it."

Spencer smiled briefly, "I have a friend like that."

Derek asked, "Are they here?"

Spencer looked back and glanced off of the edge of the balcony, his smile growing wider as he turned back to him, "Yeah, he's shaking hands with your buddies right now."

Derek whipped his head around to see a tall man with a brown beard and friendly eyes, "Oh, he seems nice."

Spencer grinned, "Yeah, he is. We went to MIT together. He was getting his masters in Chemistry when I was getting my second Ph.D in it. He asked me to tutor him and the rest is history."

Derek chuckled and shouldered Spencer with a joking jibe, "So, you two are like nerd twins or something?"

Spencer shrugged, "Exes actually."

Derek looked back quickly and gave Spencer a confused stare, "Wait, so you two used to…"

Spencer nodded, taking a sip from his mug after blowing on it, "Oh, yeah. A lot. All the time. On every available flat surface. But, we decided we were better off as friends. Then, he met his wife Katherine, and one awkward best man speech later, it's still the best decision we've ever made. He's my best friend."

Derek understood the situation. He had gone through one similarly, except he was more on Spencer's friend's side. He confessed to him, "I get it. Me and Marcus over there, you see the one with the dumbass lightning bolts shaved into his crew cut."

"Yep," Spencer answered, glancing back.

Derek said simply, "Yeah, we used to mess around too, but it never really worked out like that. We're still bros, but truth be told, I kind of miss the sex."

Spencer sighed ruefully and dropped his head to the back of the couch, "Dude, I know how you feel. Ethan was freaking incredible in bed—made me scream like you wouldn't believe—but relationship wise..."

Derek chuckled, "Couldn't be worse for each other?"

Spencer nodded, taking a sip from his mug, "Bingo."

Derek added, "Yeah, same. And it didn't take long for me and Marcus to figure that out too. We split pretty fast. Then, I met Jordan."

Spencer asked, "Speaking of, where is the famous Jordan? I'd love to meet her."

Derek's eyes fell, "She, um, well, she had a case. She's a federal agent, and they go on those a lot."

Spencer replied, "You're okay with that?"

Derek shrugged, "She's TiVo-ing it."

That made Spencer laugh, "Okay, that's cool. So, is my mom."

Derek grinned and teased Spencer as the crowd swelled and the theme music played on, "Aww, that's cute. You a mama's boy, Spencer?"

"A proud one," Spencer answered with a distant smile.

The first couple headed down the stairs to do the first dance of the night as the clip rolled of their week in practice. It was a country singer named Will, and his partner, the incomparable Peta Murgatroyd. They were delightfully goofy and predictably awkward at first, but of course Will was a stallion in disguise. The two performed a quickstep to Supermassive Black Hole by Muse.

It was incredible.

Will was like a freaking Greek god, and with Peta, he was the biggest competition ever. Derek swallowed nervously as he watched them dance. He soon felt a hand on his, squeezing gently. Derek looked up to see Spencer's brown eyes staring into his, "You're going to do amazingly."

Derek sighed, "But, Will's so good."

Spencer said stiffly, "Will can fuck off, okay? You're going to win this competition. Everyone else is just around to make this seem challenging for you. Now, get your head out of your ass and win me my third globe."

Derek leaned his forehead against Spencer's, "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, obviously," Spencer said with a fond tone.

Derek felt something flutter deep inside his chest. Right now, sitting with Spencer and waiting to rock America's socks, Derek knew Spencer was right. If that man didn't ride his ass every second of every rehearsal, he wouldn't be nearly as confident as he was now.

The music slowed and they watched as Will and Peta were judged before the beautiful Jennifer Jaraeu, the expressive David Rossi, and the stiff, traditional Aaron Hotchner. David Rossi jumped up from his chair and pointed, "That's how we start off a season! That's how we do it!"

Shit.

Derek felt another squeeze on his hand, keeping him tethered to hope.

When the stunning first pair came up to be judged, Spencer released his hand and gave him a pointed look. There was less that he could do about it, but they were given strict instructions to be as buddy-buddy as possible. Even though they were just friends, holding hands and knocking foreheads wouldn't really give off that effect. Spencer scuttled away a few inches to move from where he was previously seated (which was practically in Derek's lap).

Will and Peta had a cute little banter before their scores were revealed. Turns out, the couple had earned themselves an "9" from every judge.

Double shit.

Stealing a glance at his dance partner, he noticed Spencer's eyes on the couple, clapping politely as he whispered under his breath, "We will crush you."

Derek felt a shudder go through him. Sometimes, Spencer's scary as all hell. This is one of those times. The couple sat close beside Derek and Spencer and Will winked at them, "I was so scared, man, I thought I was going to fall flat on my face."

"Clearly, you didn't," Derek said thickly, a smile on his face with absolutely no validity to it.

Will missed the rudeness completely, shrugging, "I know, right. Thank God."

Spencer paused, "Your accent sounds really familiar. Are you from New Orleans by any chance?"

Will turned and grinned, "Yeah, I am."

Spencer nodded with a smile, "My best friend is from there. He grew up in Indiana, but he can't shake that Southern twang, huh?"

Will laughed, "You can take the boy out of Louisiana, but you can't take Louisiana out of the boy, am I right?"

Spencer laughed along with Will, "You're so right."

Will continued and Spencer fed into his charm, pausing for a moment a few minutes in to check his phone. Derek's cell buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out casually to answer the call if there was one and ended up being a text message from a foreign number that said: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE, KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER –DOC.

A shudder went through Derek that was part fear, part pleasure. Yeah, Spencer was scary. And he liked it.

Before Derek knew it, it was there turn to do the walk of shame down the steps and prepare to dance as the clip rolled of their rehearsals:

Their first meeting was recorded along with other things:

The steady sound of a cleared a throat appeared and said before him, "Derek Morgan? Hi, I'm Doc Reid, your dance partner."

Derek deadpanned, "You've gotta be *beep*ing me."

Spencer replied with a shrug of his small shoulders, "That's what I said. Apparently our production team has decided to throw in a wild card to spice up the show."

Derek paused, "And we're the wild card?"

Spencer shrugged again.

Then were their separate confessionals:

Derek sat in the tiny room and stared at the camera, "So... they put me with a dude."

Next, they cut to Spencer's confessional:

"I'm going to be ballroom dancing... with a male NFL champion," Spencer spoke uncertainly, "There goes a sentence I never thought I'd say."

Next they were shown during their first rehearsal:

Derek was leaning over the side of the barre, sweating profusely and swearing under his breath as Spencer forced ballet on him.

"Straighten your knee!" Spencer had snapped, "Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex! Tendu! Flex—watch the knee—tendu! Flex! Now rise up demi…"

Derek wobbled uncomfortably and tried to let go of the barre.

Spencer launched himself off of the barre and rushed in front of Derek to answer back, "Are you kidding me?! That was horrible! I know you can do better!"

Derek hissed, "No, I can't!"

Spencer replied, "I've see your touchdown dance, okay? You leap like a damned swan. This right here, is laziness."

The next scene cut to the first time they had finished the dance, then the third as Derek tripped over Spencer's leg, then the end of the final rehearsal:

"Hit, hit, hit, hit! Yes!" Spencer exclaimed in the middle of the combination as Derek snapped his hips at the end of the side turn. Jumping up and down eagerly, Spencer shut off the music and jumped over to him, "We're going to get such a high score if you dance like that, man! Oh, my God! We have it in the bag!"

"Well, we can't count our chickens before they hat—whoa!" Derek's stance wavered as Spencer attacked him with a quaking hug and laughed, throwing his arms around the man, "Wow, okay. I'll take it."

Spencer pulled his face away from Derek's and said, "I'm so proud of you."

Derek scratched behind his neck, "Thanks. I mean, it was all you."

"No, it wasn't." Spencer punched his arm and jumped some more and held out his hand for a high five, "Quality. Pure quality, man."

The final scene was filmed right before the performance as they sat there in the interview room:

"We need to ask if we can get a new twitter thing. It can't be that encore tag, it's too generic," Derek said quickly, "America's tweets can save us here, and they're already going to be freaked out watching two dudes dance."

Spencer chuckled, "Probably because it's going to be like a gazelle and the Ugly Duckling prancing around together, henna?"

Derek grinned, "Me, being the gazelle of course."

Spencer laughed out loud, "You wish."

Derek shrugged simply, glad enough to get that reaction out of him, "You can cackle all you want, Doc, we still don't have a tag."

Spencer gasped and looked over at him, "#D_and_D. You know, like Derek and Doc!"

Derek rolled his eyes, "That doesn't come off the way you think it does. How about #wesleyandwoody."

"For the seventh time, Derek, you are not Wesley Snipes," Spencer shook his head.

Derek's eyes widened, "Dude, I got the tag. This is going to blow your mind."

Spencer asked, "What?"

Derek grinned, "#TeamWildCard."

Spencer paused, "That's perfect."

Derek added, "I'm totally Wesley Snipes though."

Spencer tossed his hands up, "Fine, fine. But, I refuse to be Woody Harrleson."

The video ended, and Derek and Spencer stood beside each other on the center of the dance floor awaiting the opening cue from the announcer whom said simply, "Dancing the Jive, Derek Morgan and his partner Doc Reid."

The lights went up and the musicians in the back began to do their thing, the bass pouring through the speakers. Before the show, Derek and Spencer asked Penelope if she'd stand in for them as the object of their affections. She would just have to walk by and watch, and that she did. The men's movements were well-practiced and came easy, Derek had danced before. Hell, in Chicago when he was growing up, that was how things were settled. Either it was a fight, a shoot out, or a dance-off. Derek usually chose dance-off, and that's given him the freedom of movement, the sharpness of his limbs, the desperation sifting its way through each combination. Derek knows how to dance. It was the story that they were telling that was the important part, and that's what Spencer was pounding into him the past week.

Truth be told, it worked.

It worked well.

Their hands never touched; they didn't have to. They mimed it and used the moves found in Jive to do coordinated solo moves, so instead of ballroom dancing, they partner danced. Great idea, right? It was all Doc.

The two were telling the tale of two men fighting over the same woman, their friendship crumbling over their lust for her. There would be moments in which they would push in front of each other to get in a move that was more difficult to manage than the next. During the guitar solo, there was even a small fight scene. In the end, neither of them got the girl, but sadly their friendship was in shambles.

Penelope exited stage left after the second chorus.

Their movements were more staccato, even though they shared that connection they had before. It was purposefully disjointed, one move happening—as Spencer says—point seven five seconds after the other. The ending moments of the song were quick and passionate. During the slowest guitar solo, Spencer and Derek facing each other and trying to get in a punch in a stuttered form as the lights flickered on and off to illuminate it, but their arms blocked the blows before they landed. And in the final second, Spencer smacked his hand against Derek's forehead and he fell back the way he was supposed to, a graceful backwards roll ending him on his feet a quarter stage from Spencer.

The music ended abruptly, the crowd clapping hard. Derek heard his jersey number screeched again from that same section of the audience as before. Spencer zoomed across the stage at Derek and tackled him into a hug. Derek patted his instructor on the back and mussed his hair one more time just to see that annoyed pout when he did as they headed toward the judges' desk.

"First two-man team on the show, guys way to go!" Jennifer whooped, clapping her hands and encouraging the crowd to join in, "As much as I hate to point it out, there was an issue with your footing on that fight scene, Derek, but, still," Jennifer flipped her blonde hair from her shoulder and fanned herself as the crowd calmed, "Can I just say… wow. I envy the girl you two were fighting for! Ya'll made me want to follow both of you home! Ladies, am I right?"

The crowd whistled and Spencer laughed beside him, blushing and resting his forehead on Derek's shoulder as if he were hiding behind it. Derek patted Spencer's back, wrapping an arm around Spencer's shoulders afterward, "Embrace it, man. America has spoken. We're hot stuff."

"Indeed you two are!" Rossi stood sassily, "We had a bet running that you two would be the worst of the group. I mean, come on, two men doing a choreographed Jive on live television? It was going to fail quicker than a third grader in a college course, but you two brought the fire! Derek Morgan, you are truly the gazelle, aren't you? You're a manly gazelle, scary gazelle, sexy gazelle, but a gazelle nonetheless. And, Doc. Lovely Doc. Fantastic job as always. Pat yourselves on the backs, because you are bringing the competition this season."

The crowd yelped and jumped, starting in a chorus of "43! 43! We reppin' 43! 43!"

Hotch raised a hand and the crowd stilled, "Jennifer was right. Your footwork was a bit weak during the fighting scene and you faded in and out of character. That was quite noticeable. You have to work on staying in the moment, Derek."

The crowd booed.

Hotch continued, "But overall, it was a very innovative choreograph. Doc, it was quite interesting to see the way you broke down the Jive's simple movements and made it less of a ballroom style dance, and broke it into more of a tussle. It was easily one of the most unforgettable performances of the night, besides the obvious fact of your arrangement. Turns out Team Wild Card is going to be quite the threat."

The crowd cheered again. The team roared, "43!"

Derek scratched behind his ear, hiding his grin, and the host told them to go back up to the balcony to hear their scores. The two walked forward and Derek wrapped a sweaty arm around Spencer's shoulders and Spencer decided to do the same, beaming and red faced. They headed up the stairs and Spencer grinned, "You did great, man. Whatever happens tonight, you did great, okay?"

Derek nodded, and patted his partner's back as they greeted the second host whom asked, "How do you two feel about the performance?"

Spencer started, "Derek did so well just now, especially for his first dance up here. I'm super proud of him. Mostly because he listened to me screech at him all week and didn't break down in tears, but yeah. He did wonderfully."

Derek shrugged, "Oh, shucks. Don't even get me started, Spence. You kicked ass too."

Spencer laughed, "That's kind of my job, man."

The female host smiled, "Alright, now to hear your scores." They glanced at the large television that streamed the judges' cards. First came Jennifer. 8! Spencer jumped, under Derek's arm. Next came Hotch. 8! Spencer wiggled some more. Lastly Rossi. 9!

Derek pumped his fist in the air and Spencer screamed and hugged him around the waist as they jumped around in glee. The female host smiled to the camera, "Derek and Doc, affectionately referred to on Twitter as Team Wild Card have just earned themselves second place behind Will and Peta for the top score of the night. What a turn of events indeed. Now, back to you, Tom."

Spencer led him to the couch along with their cheering dance-mates. Will raised his hand to Derek and gave him a high five, "Congrats, man. Guess I'm going to be gunning for you next week."

Derek replied gladly, "Expect it back, bro."

A/N: Hope you liked it! Stay tuned for our week-long commercial break.

- Your Friendly Neighborhood Blue