A/N: Consider this a warning for sexual content. Because there is going to be sexual content. Enjoy the chapter, have a good night, byee~

Love,

Blue

P.S. I highly recommend you listen to the song "Love Sex Magic" by Ciara before/during/after reading this. It's not necessary but it definitely puts you in Derek's frame of mind.

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER FOUR: Love and Sex and Magic

Derek's head was on fire. Light was burning his eyes as it streamed in through poorly closed blinds, and his eyes were squinted heavily as he blinked awake. He was really fucking hungover. Barely picking up his head to try to get up, he closed his eyes and pressed his face back into a pillow that smelled like woodsy vanilla, straight from the pine. Derek smiled to himself, pushing his face further into the pillow an inhaling the scent, not quite grasping why the scent was so familiar.

The sun was warm on his bald head and even though his temples were thrumming and his forehead was hot, he embraced the nice feeling. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and burrowed into the soft sheets which smelled way too much of vanilla to be his. This was definitely not Derek's bed. As he settled himself, he felt his bare leg bump into another person's soft skin. Derek's smile widened. He doesn't even know who this is, but just the warmth of them is making his day just that much better.

Sure, last night was hazy, but, he had burnt the midnight oil with someone who wasn't that lying, cheating whore Jordan. The day was beautiful, this bed smelled like someone sexy, and he was going to meet Spencer this afternoon to learn his next dance. With a grin, he enjoyed the moment. Derek turned his head sleepily to glance over at the beauty whom entertained him last night.

All he could see was curly brown hair that was all over her face, and kind of familiar in the way it bent at the base of the neck. Her skin was pale from where he could see from the edge of the heavy white blanket as it hung off her shoulder. Derek reached over and pushed the hair out from her face and behind her ear and holy fuck.

It was Spencer.

Derek gasped and then held the breath, his eyes going wide as he took in the sight. He briefly considered smacking the guy awake so that he could recall the night. Then again, he also considered sneaking as quietly out of the bed as possible and chugging coffee on the freeway to jog his own memory. Or... Derek lifted the quilt slowly, like the perv he was. Spencer was sleeping, he'd never know. This was Derek's chance at a free peep show and damned if he's not going to take it. Oh, poo. Spencer was wearing a blue, cotton pajama set top that lay unbuttoned. It didn't really cover much but his arms from the bicep down. And he was also in... loose plaid boxers. Derek peered closer, squinting his eyes.

Oh, my God.

He was hung. Maybe. Hopefully. Or, it's just a very impressive wrinkle.

Derek made a fist and pumped it in the air for a moment before leaning down and looking back down to take in the rest of his body.

He was cute in that little pajama button up, Derek could see that dancer's skin was ghostly pale, his arms curling in at his clothed elbows to meet each other. But, past that, Derek saw a slender chest, flat stomach, and smooth thighs. His legs were kind of hairy, and that was actually all manner of hot. His clavicles were sharp, his small rosebud nipples were pink, and his taut lips were pouted in sleep. There was a shadow of stubble over the lower half of his face that dipped into his neck and Derek admits to wanting to rub his face all over the scratchy skin until it hurt. Derek bit his lip as he wondered how Spencer would look if he grew it out. He imagined Spencer's desired beard would end up being like… a Zachary Levi type length. Whoa. That would probably give Derek a heart attack.

Derek settled the blanket back down around Spencer's shoulders. The dancer scrunched his nose up and made a little noise. Aww. Look at his little face. God, he's cute when he sleeps. That thought doesn't make Derek a creeper though, right? Besides, he's totally not creeping, he's just admiring. It's the truth. He is. I mean, damn. Kid's a fucking koala bear.

Spencer's eyelashes fluttered and he pursed his lips, as he woke softly and slowly. The dancer sniffed and reached up to rub his eyes, glancing lazily over in Derek's direction before pausing.

Spencer looked at Derek.

Derek looked back at Spencer.

"Holy shit!" Spencer scrambled backwards out of the sheets and nearly launched himself out of the bed before realizing that he wasn't wearing pants and hastily covered his midsection and hips with the covers.

Derek deadpanned, "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Spencer folded his arms self-consciously over his chest before hissing out, "What the heck are you doing here?!"

Derek served up a sassy glare, "I could ask you the same question."

"Ah! God!" Spencer swore and rubbed his temples roughly, "I should have stayed away from the Peppermint Schnapps. Irish always fucks me up."

Derek added, "This probably is the worst time to say it, but I'm not used to being struck by such beauty so early in the morning, so here goes... your breath reeks."

Spencer growled, glancing around Derek's head, "It's 9:52 am and my hair is literally defying gravity right now. What are you talking about, early morning beauty?"

Derek poked Spencer's nose with a wink, "Sure, brushing your teeth would help, but you are the very picture of effervescence today, Mr. Reid."

"Firstly, it's doctor. Secondly, I don't think you know what the word 'effervescence' means," Spencer ran his hand through his hair, "And thirdly, Derek, you waking up in my bed is a very pressing matter. I hope you're not taking this as a joke."

Derek chuckled under his breath, "I kinda am."

Spencer glared and folded his arms across his bare chest.

Derek straightened up his face and scooched up to lean on his arm, "I would sit up fully so that I look like I'm taking this more seriously, but I'm way more naked than you, so… yeah…"

"Oh, my God, you're not naked," Spencer's eyes widened disbelievingly.

Derek shrugged, "As the day I was born."

Spencer shook his head, flopping back on the bed and pressing his hands to his face, "You can't be here right now. You can't be naked. What have I done?"

Derek scoffed, "Thanks for the compliment, buddy, but I'm just as clueless as you."

"What makes you think I'm clueless?" Spencer opened one eye and looked at Derek, "I know exactly what I did last night. I just can't believe I did it."

Derek leaned over and shoved Spencer in the shoulder, "Dude! Share! I blacked out."

Spencer turned on his side and growled at Derek, "Ow."

Derek apologized, "Sorry. Please tell me."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek, "Why should I tell you anything?"

Derek shrugged, "I'll whip it out."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "I'm a male ballet dancer, Derek, I've seen another man's cock before. You're going to have to work harder than that."

Derek added, "I'll spit in your coffee."

Spencer gave Derek a dangerous look before hissing out, "You'll what?"

"Haha, I mean..." Derek reeled it back in ad smiled sweetly, "I'll do my stretches without complaining today."

Spencer considered his offer and supplemented, "A week."

"Fine," Derek sighed.

Spencer lay back on his pillow and folded his arms, "We went to this bar by down the street from here and I used a card trick as an opening for these two women whom were sitting there beside us."

Derek nodded slowly, "Okay, I remember that."

Spencer shrugged, "I totally meant to pair us off with them, but they didn't go for it. You bought them a drink, and they still didn't want to hang out with us, so you and me decided, we'd take a shot for every girl that pushed us away. We called them 'We Got Shot Down Shots'."

Derek frowned, "That's where I get a little fuzzy."

"Lucky you, because it gets very embarrassing very quickly," Spencer grimaced before continuing, "You almost nabbed this one girl who was a die hard Bears fan, but you were too drunk by then to make a lasting impression. We were obviously over-confident, because you got to six shots before the bar cut us off. I got to four, but I'm kind of a lightweight. Two and a half makes me wonky, so I was totally out of it. We took a cab home, and started talking about poker. When I told you I was from Vegas, you decided that you were better at it than I was. You said, and I quote 'Windy City beats Sin City'. I kicked your ass in the living room twice before you decided to up the ante. I would have never agreed to this, had I my inhibitions, but we played a couple rounds of strip poker and we were both down to underwear and I my shirt before we called it quits and went to sleep."

Derek asked, "Well, that doesn't at all explain where my underpants got to."

Spencer hissed, "I don't know where your damned boxers are! What do I look like? The keeper of the Ring?"

Derek groaned, "My God, you're pissy in the morning. Spencer, my underwear..."

Spencer whipped back, "You were galloping all loudly out of bed at five in the morning to turn the sinks on and off in my bathroom! Probably left them in there!"

Derek chuckled quietly, "I definitely left them in there."

Spencer glared at Derek, "I must have fallen asleep before you got back in bed, because I could have sworn you went home. I wasn't prepared to deal with you before ten o'clock. And, by the way, your underwear in my bathroom is not funny. If you don't stop chuckling, I'll smite you."

Derek laughed, "Are you kidding me, it's hilarious, man! I left my drawers in the bathroom. Here, I thought we had sex."

Spencer's eyes widened and his face went red, "Wh-what? We didn't have… we'd never…I—uh…"

"Don't act all shocked, man, you see how this looks?" Derek pointed to the two of them, lying together in bed in various states of undress.

Spencer winced, "Yeah... I can see why you'd jump to that conclusion."

"Jump to conclusions, dude, I didn't question it. I mean, look at you," Derek shrugged and lay back on the bed, moving to lean on his side, "You've got the sex hair and shirt all disheveled; plus, I definitely wouldn't push you of all men outta bed."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek and pushed his hair out of his eyes, "No need to be kind."

Derek added simply, looking into Spencer's eyes, "I'm not being kind, I'm being honest. You're like… crazy hot."

An awkward pause took up a heavy moment and Spencer paused, clearly upset, "…I'm going to make breakfast."

Derek sighed, "Spencer—"

The dancer grabbed a large pair of horn rimmed glasses from his bedside table and placed them on his face, not saying a word.

"Spencer, come on, don't be like that," Derek groaned as Spencer pulled himself out of the bed, "I'm not trying to do anything. I just said you were hot, and that's like common knowledge. You don't have to ignore me for telling the truth, dude."

He walked lazily around the bed and opened a drawer from the dresser beside Derek, grabbing the matching pajama pants out of it.

Derek wrapped his hand lightly around Spencer's thin arm, fingers catching on soft hair there, "Spencer."

Spencer pulled his arm from Derek's grip and pulled on the blue plaid pants, leaving the room silently as he ignored Derek. Angered, Derek pounded his fists on the bed. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden?! It's not like they did anything incriminating last night. It's not like Derek reached towards him and kissed his way up Spencer's long neck, ran his hands possessively up Spencer's slender torso, licked into Spencer's fluffy pink lips. It's not like they did anything but play poker. Granted, it was strip poker, but still it was just poker and Spencer shouldn't be acting like this.

All Derek did was tell Spencer he was good-lookin'.

It was true.

Hell, most days, Derek has to physically tear his eyes away from Spencer's face.

But, he could tell from Spencer's reaction that he doesn't believe him. For some reason, Spencer thinks it's not true. Poor kid doesn't have a Twitter or Facebook, so he has no clue about the millions of men and women clamoring for just one keystroke of his attention. You know, what? That will be his next mode of attack: show Spencer his tumblr tag. Yeah. Great idea.

Derek pulled himself out of bed and reached into Spencer's drawer, fishing out the kid's largest pair of flannel pants (boy, did he have a truckload). Slipping them up his waist, Derek stood and glanced over at the slightly disheveled room. There were two dressers in Spencer's room, the one Derek used, and another one that was large and hulking. He itched with curiosity as he wondered what was in it. Maybe it's his dance costumes, maybe it's his street clothes, oh, God. What if it's his sweater vest collection? Ick. Derek shuddered with the most awkward flash of arousal. Mark him down as scared and horny.

He looked to his right to see a large knee length window, blinds haphazardly drawn with a Spencer sized barre right across it. It was bolted in the wall on either side where the glass frame ended. Wow, he has his own barre? That's pretty cool. The floors were hardwood, the ceiling was high, the walls were painted sea green with white trimming, and there were posters hung artfully on the walls. Most of them were of Broadway plays, and famous ballet studios, but some were definitely geek related. Derek's favorite so far was a large Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire poster that hung proudly beside the window.

Derek started out of the room and noticed an open closet on his way. He peeked inside and holy shit. It was filled—and Derek means filled—with shoes. Tap shoes, jazz shoes, ballet shoes, dance sneakers, you name it. It was in there. They were all lined up and in order on a really tall rack that held them all in place, thank God. Derek shuddered at the thought of them being piled up. Losing one shoe would be damned near a catastrophe.

Closing the closet door, Derek headed into the unfamiliar hallway and followed the smell of coffee beans brewing. At the end of the hallway, it was very bright. There was a larger room there in the flat, and that must be the living room.

Derek followed the lights and walked into a room with a couch, a TV, another one of those large windows that looked down on the city, and bookshelf. Bookshelf seems like an understatement. It was practically a wall of books, stuffed into that gigantic thing. Beside it was a coffee table, littered with cards and around it lay their clothes from last night. Catching his eye, Derek noticed it beside Spencer's pants. Lo and behold, the life sized cerulean blue TARDIS that was hella cool. He turned his head and noticed that the kitchen was attached to the open room.

Spencer stood there with his long, slender back to Derek, outlined in the thin pajama shirt with a bit of skin showing at the waist. Derek allowed himself a nice long look, his eyes sweeping down the man's soft skin and slightly raised spine that dipped into his low slung pants. Whereas his rear was usually drowned in big sweatshirts, it now wasn't. From the living room, Derek could see the high, plump butt just there asking to be looked at. Wow. He felt a sudden wave of wanting to walk over, wrap his arms around Spencer's body and kiss the side of his neck after pushing aside his sweet, sweet curls.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Spencer said moodily.

Derek chuckled, "Don't tempt me, Pretty Boy, I've got lots of pose ideas."

The glare he earned from behind Spencer's glasses as he turned his head was totally worth it. He's never seen him in glasses before. They look fucking good on him—then again, most things do. He looks like a sexy, pissed off English professor.

Derek served up a solid look, "Are you still miffed at me, or are you always grumpy when you wake up?"

"Mornings. I hate mornings. Usually, I'm threatening someone's life by now, but since I like you I'm trying to be nice," Spencer turned his body and held out a pan with crispy slices of bread on them, "Consolation grilled cheese?"

Derek paused, "Grilled cheese for breakfast?"

Spencer added, "It's got eggs in it."

Derek replied, "That sounds disgusting."

Spencer lashed out through his teeth, his large glasses slipping down his nose, "Everything about you is disgusting!"

Derek took a step back as if he was approaching a hissing, feral cat that just swiped at him claws and all, "Holy shit..."

Spencer took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, "Sorry. I haven't had my coffee."

Derek scoffed, "Yeah, okay, Mr. Mental Case."

Spencer glared, "That's Dr. Mental Case to you."

Derek sassed, "You still have Harry Potter posters up in your room, so I'll be the judge of that."

Spencer growled out, "It's perfectly okay to fantasize about Daniel Radcliffe! He's legal."

Derek chuckled, "I guarantee he wasn't when that picture was taken."

"I barely was when I bought it!" Spencer's voice teetered on the edge of a yell as he finished, "Now, if you don't get in the kitchen, I'm disrobing you and tossing you into the street!"

Derek yelled back, "You scare me!"

Spencer barked, "Good!"

Derek allowed a few tentative steps forward onto the small tiled flooring, getting closer to the glowering young dancer. Spencer's eyes narrowed and Derek inched his way around him as he approached to grab a napkin from beside the stove. Derek then reached into the pan, grabbed a hot sandwich, placed it on the napkin and inched away to the kitchen table slowly. He wasn't going to take his chances with sudden movements. Dude might flip out.

He sat patiently and placed the napkin and sandwich on the table in front of him.

Spencer grunted out, "Eat."

Derek grabbed the sandwich, shoved it into his face and took a big bite.

Spencer growled, "How do you like it?"

Derek winced and nodded. Damn thing was terrible. The eggs were runny and underdone and the cheese tasted like rubber. The bread was soggy and warm. It was torture. Derek gulped it down and asked, "Do… uh, do you have anything to drink?"

Spencer hissed, "The fucking coffee isn't ready yet."

Derek added, "Yeah, I'm aware."

Spencer glared at him over his horn rimmed glasses, "…I hate you."

Derek nodded, "Duly noted."

The small espresso machine beside the sink beeped and Spencer scurried over to it with a mug, watching greedily as it filled up, making soft sounds of happiness as his cup rounded off. Spencer grabbed a second mug from the counter and filled it as well, turning the thing off afterward.

After scooping four heaping helpings of sugar and pouring three little cups of Half-and-Half into it, Spencer lifted the piping hot mug to his lips and drank deeply as the heat wafted up to his face. That man let out a moan more needy and sexual than any moan Derek has ever heard. Derek's ears perked up and Spencer took another sip, moaning a louder, "Oh, God, yes."

Derek closed his eyes, willing down his dick's request to stiffen at the sounds of Spencer slurping up his first cup of coffee of the day. Spencer took another sip and closed his eyes, face smoothed into a blissed out expression. His plump pink lip was pulled into his teeth as he released it slowly, the steam of the mug drifted up his features, his throat pushed out a soft, mewling sound of appreciation, and Derek admits it. He pictured Spencer naked. Clothless, in nothing but an unbuttoned oxford and those glasses. Right there in the kitchen, he conjured up thoughts of Spencer standing, kneeling, lounging, running those gentle fingers through his soft brown locks. And now fantasy!Spencer is dancing but not the safe way he usually does. This dance was dirty and sensual. Fantasy!Spencer moved in determination, licking those sexy lips, walking around with those shapely legs to the tune of Ciara's "Love, Sex, Magic". Holy Christ. He was flipping his hair and grinding into Derek's lap, biting his lip and begging Derek to—fuck here comes the boner. Before Derek could even picture his grandmother's feet and calm himself down, Spencer sat close beside him and handed Derek a mug of coffee with a warm smile, "It's Peruvian. Cost an arm and a leg, but boy is it worth it. Here, drink up."

Derek stared at him, mouth slightly open and blinking several times as he tried to get that sexy image out of his head. It was damn near impossible when Ciara was still singing to him like that. God... Spencer's mouth. Those lips are so not helping. Fantasy!Spencer touseled his hair and straddled Derek's lap. I'll make sure it's just you in the crowd, doing tricks you've never seen. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic. Derek's head bobbed along to the music as fantasy!Spencer licked a dirty line up his neck. Fantasy!Spencer crooked his finger, pawing Derek closer. Let me drive my body around you, I bet you know what I mean. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic—

Spencer waved a hand in front of Derek's face, "Derek. Derek? Major Tom to Ground Control."

Derek blinked. Whoa, that was... vivid. He reached out soundlessly for the offered cup, closing his hands around the warm mug, Derek blew across the top of it and raised it to his lips. A splash of warm, smooth liquid poured down his throat and whoa. That was some damn good coffee. What was that in there, hazelnut? Huh. That's not bad at all.

Spencer leaned his head on Derek's shoulder, glancing up at him through his eyelashes, "How about I make some bacon and toast? This grilled cheese tastes like shit, doesn't it?"

Derek looked down at Spencer. The man was smiling up at him adoringly, eyes warm and large. And, now "Love, Sex, Magic" is playing again. Derek seriously needs to get his shit together. He gulped and mumbled out, "Uh… yeah… sure?"

"Awesome!" Spencer beamed at him and stood, heading to the stove, leaving Derek to press a hand to his own forehead and question whether or not he's contracted something.

The two headed over to the studio a couple of hours later, fed, showered and energized. They'd stopped by the bar to pick up Derek's car, went to Derek's hotel and grabbed a change of clothes, and were soon in their spacious, mirrored room, ready to go.

Spencer grabbed the titled card by the edge of the room and opened it, looking over at Derek with excitement, "This is the moment of truth."

Derek tapped his hands on the barre and made a drum roll sound.

Spencer read the card, "Qu….whoa. I thought they weren't going to give us these. At least for a while."

Derek stopped his hands, "What? What did we get?"

"Qu…" Spencer cleared his throat, "Quickstep."

Derek paused, "Oh. Shit."

Spencer sighed, "Yeah, I know. I just had several other dances prepared to teach. I didn't even consider the quickstep to be an option. Not this week."

Derek grinned, "Does that mean practice is cancelled?"

Spencer laughed, "Are you kidding? This is a hard one, we're going to need every minute we've got."

Derek winked, "That's what she said."

Spencer glared heatlessly.

Derek cocked his head to the side, "Would you believe that underneath my jokes and jibes is a scared little boy who is afraid to show his magnificence and truly shine?"

"No," Spencer replied.

Derek added, "Not even a little bit?"

"Ignoring you," Spencer rolled his eyes and began again, "I was assuming that I'd have more time to hone your skills ballroom-wise before I taught you such a complicated piece. You're very talented, so I won't be feeding you to the sharks, but… it'll be hard on you."

Derek shrugged, "It's cool. I can take it. Just tell me what song we're doing this too."

Spencer said simply, "I was hoping for 'Well, Alright' by the Hives."

Derek gave Spencer a wary look, "The Hives? Isn't the lead singer like… batshit?"

"Define 'batshit'," Spencer replied, folding his arms.

Derek paused, "Yelling into the microphone as if he's not sure if he's being brutally murdered or experiencing the best orgasm known to man. It's also an adjective. Do you want me to use it in a sentence?"

"I'd rather you took your shirt off," Spencer said blatantly.

Derek blinked and looked at him funny, "...uh, what?"

Spencer looked him up and down and walked up to him, crowding his space and running his fingers up and down Derek's chest, "I'm so pretty. Wouldn't you like to bend me over the barre and screw me until your name is the only word I know?"

Derek backed up only to be followed, "Spencer, what the hell are—"

Spencer pinned him to the wall, "No need for the silly games, Derek! I want you! All of you! Right this instant!"

Derek froze in his spot, "Uh..."

Spencer grabbed him by the collar, "Make love to me, Derek!" Spencer whispered into his ear, "Touch me! Fuck me! Make me scream!"

"I've seen you watching my mouth. You want it, I can tell. I could just suck you down right here, right now," Derek closed his eyes as Spencer licked a line up Derek's neck and fell to his knees, staring up at him while he untied Derek's sweatpants and bit his lip flirtatiously, "What are you looking at?"

Derek asked, "What?"

Spencer repeated, "What are you looking at? What are you looking at?"

Spencer clapped in front of Derek's face, "What are you looking at, Derek?"

Derek breathed out, "Huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "God, it's like talking to a pair of jazz shoes."

That man has incredible lips, and Derek hasn't really noticed as well as his subconscious has. And his subconscious thought up some pretty indecent things. Involving those lips. Derek scratched behind his neck and as he tried to speak, all that came out of him was a mumbled mess.

"Wow. Incredible thesis, Hawking. However do you do it?" Spencer sighed and waved it off, turning his back, heading to the barre, "Let's get some warm-up stretching going."

Derek's eyes traveled to his rear as it moved in those sweats. Not a good view. Not a good view at all. His ass can do better than those pants. He should consider yoga shorts. Or no shorts. Or no pants.

Spencer turned to him, "See something you like?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at the dancer, "You always seem to know when I'm looking at your butt."

"You're not exactly subtle," Spencer raised his chin, "And you didn't answer me."

Derek paused, "...I don't think I should."

Spencer's neck grew pink and as his cheeks gathered color he sassed back, "Well..." and fell short before clearing his throat, "We... we have rehearsal to do. To the barre, Padawan. You promised no complaining, so let's go."

"Oh, I see," Derek grinned and headed to the barre as Spencer turned his back on him.

Spencer finished walking to the barre, "You see nothing. Stop making inferences, you'll pull something."

Derek took the opportunity as soon as it rose, double checking the way those sweatpants fit on the dancer's body.

Spencer quickly hissed, "Eyes. Off. Ass."

Derek saunteered over to the barre with a smile on his face, thinking with surety, he totally wants me.

"Dammit, Derek, hold me like a man!" Spencer shouted as Derek fumbled his arm positioning. He had spent the last two hours of their third rehearsal learning the last five measures of the song, and his shoulders were on fire. Derek had to hold one hand in Spencer's warm one and the other placed "respectfully" at the small of his back. All Derek knew was that it was Saturday, and he was so frustrated with the dance that he wanted to strangle something. Preferably his hot instructor.

The footwork was hard enough, but boy, did Derek's arm placement bring out the stickler in Spencer. The moment his hand dropped or raised on Spencer's back, the dancer growled and made them start over. Derek's pretty sure if he hears the words "Woo Hoo" one more time, he's going to give the stereo a Shut the Fuck Uppercut.

Spencer growled for the umpteenth time, "Raise your elbow!"

Derek raised his middle finger.

Spencer's movements were so sharp and practiced and ever loving trained—Derek could hardly keep up. Thank God (and Satan) Spencer had bestowed the woman's portion on himself. Yes, Derek wasn't given womanly turns and flourishes to execute, but since Derek was technically "leading the dance", he had to, as Spencer put it, "grab him and throw him across the dance floor like the hulking man he is or so help him God he will rid Derek of his beard with a pair of rusty tweezers".

Fearing death by tetanus, Derek tried his best.

But, it was difficult. Spencer understood that and went as easy on him as he could, but damn if he didn't drill into Derek that they needed to do a nearly perfect job so that their partnership will be critiqued on their style and technique and not the fact that they both have penises. So, Derek tried harder.

On the other end of things, the quickstep was torture in more ways than the complicated jumps and foot movements. Spencer was up against his chest nearly the entire time today. When they jumped together, Derek could feel Spencer's scratchy, unshaven cheek against his. When they dashed around, Spencer's hair fluttered around his delicate, pale face. And when Derek had to dip him, the inside of Spencer's thigh rubbed against his and Jesus Christ yes. Derek was essentially spending a good portion of the dance between Spencer's legs and the idea of it wasn't nearly as enticing as the real thing. Good thing the dance wasn't Latin, because Derek doesn't think he can handle artistic passion from Spencer without suffering cardiac arrest.

In other shitty news, Derek's little crush was becoming worse and worse and worse as the moments passed.

Spencer was sweaty and serpentine and snappy and it was just about the hottest thing on the planet. Plus, it was kind of cute when he pouted. All of this definitely wasn't helping Derek out. Not one bit. Especially since this morning. Ever since that moment in Spencer's kitchen with the coffee, Derek hasn't been able to stop thinking about having sex with him. It's nearly all that's on his mind. Every time Spencer licks his lips, Derek's thoughts go to fellatio. Every time Spencer yells at him, Derek imagines him screaming out in ecstasy. And Spencer's hands? God, bury Derek where he stands. Or at least damn him to the gutter, where his mind is obviously vacationing.

It had been little over a week and Derek was on his way to infatuation with this geeky kid—what is his life?

Before the fourth hour, Spencer clicked off the stereo (thank Allah) and called a lunch break. Spencer allotted twenty minutes and Derek collapsed on the floor before the word "break" even left his lips. Serving up an appreciative nod of his head, Spencer followed him and lay down on his back, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes, "So, how are you?"

Derek whimpered into his arms which were folded into the floor, "I think I'm dying, so awesome."

Spencer reached over and poked Derek between the eyes, "I was talking about Jordan, smartass. I want to make sure my apprentice's inconveniently broken heart won't shatter his dancing feet."

Derek muttered, "You're incapable of sympathy, aren't you?"

Spencer kept his eyes on Derek as he looked up at him from upside down, "No. I just… I'm trying to tell you that I'm worried about you without sounding like a tool."

Derek spoke muffled into the floor, "Why would you worry? I mean it's not like I was thinking of proposing to her or anything. Truth be told, I'm mostly over it. Quick, I know."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, "If she didn't mean that much to you, then why did you devote three years of your life to her?"

"Well, we…" Derek paused, "Huh… I don't know. When you put it like that it sounds kind of dumb."

Spencer replied, "I put a one-year timer on my relationships. If it passes a year and I don't feel a connection with the person that resonates serious commitment, I couldn't possibly waste my time with them any further."

Derek looked up at him from under his arms, "That's kind of cruel."

Spencer turned to lay on his belly do that he could maintain eye contact, "No, it's not. It's resourceful. I won't send off the wrong message, I won't get my heart broken, I allow myself space to fall in love with someone worth my time—"

Derek asked, "Well, what do you define 'falling in love'?"

Spencer looked deeply into Derek's eyes for a moment. He looked distant, nearly melancholy as he internalized something. Pulling his lips into his mouth for a moment, Spencer sighed and moved to stand.

Derek pouted, "Come on, Pretty Boy, why are you standing up all of a sudden—"

Spencer finished his rise and ran his hands through his hair, "You mind not calling me pretty all the time? It's an effeminate trait that I'm positive I don't possess."

Derek leaned over to lay on his back and look up at Spencer, reaching his arms out to him, "It's a term of endearment. Besides, I don't see the wrong in telling you how gorgeous you are—"

"Jesus, Derek," Spencer looked Derek over with hurt scribbled all over his face as he angrily grabbed his duffel bag and headed to the door, "I'm getting lunch."

Derek complained, "Come on, man, don't be like that!"

"I'll be back at 4:45. Don't wait up," Spencer launched himself out of the room, slamming the door. Derek hissed angrily and balled his hands into fists, nearly tossing one at the floor.

Why the fuck was Spencer always so randomly difficult?! One moment, they're best friends and the next he's Mister Mood Swing, storming away all pissy and such. All Derek wants is to get to know him. Sure, he's winky and nudge-y, but that's just who Derek is. He's a flirt! Usually, Spencer doesn't mind it. He blushes and changes the subject and sometimes he even goes with it. But, days like Wednesday morning or just now, he'd slam his guard up like Captain America's shield and say "fuck you" to the world for whatever the allotted time it was for him to stop bugging out.

When Derek asked Spencer his definition of love, Spencer looked so sad. His eyes went barren and his skin flushed. His pouty lips pursed as he licked them nervously, and Derek worried. He doesn't know who the hell hurt him in the past, but they are asking for a steel toed boot up the ass courtesy of Derek Morgan himself. A man as kind-hearted and talented and pure as Spencer doesn't deserve to see a day of sadness, nevertheless be hurt.

Someone has messed with Spencer's heart and left it beaten and bruised to the point where the very mention of love brings a shudder to his shoulder. Derek wants to wash that all away. He wants to hold Spencer in his arms and press him against his chest until all of the sadness disappears. He wants to brush his hair out of his face and whisper to him that he's beautiful without it striking up World War III because of how deeply he disagrees. Dammit, Derek wants to kiss him. Just once. He wants to grab Spencer by the shoulders, pull him in and kiss him so softly and so passionately that he will never again question that love exists. If it didn't, then what are Spencer's eyes saying? What do they feel when they dance? Why hasn't Derek given up on him yet?

Derek pushed himself off of the floor and ran his hand over his bald head. When Spencer comes back in here, Derek's decided that he's going to rock his fucking world. If Spencer can snap his hips like a seasoned matador, then Derek can too.

Bring it.

Penelope called later that afternoon. She asked Derek if he would like to get a cup of coffee. It was six o'clock and getting dark, but Derek shrugged it off and agreed. What the hell? Why not? After breaking his back all week doing this godforsaken quickstep, he deserved a night out. Derek didn't know why he felt the need to tell Spencer about it, but he did anyway. They were doing cool down stretches under the fluorescent lights three hours later, and to the left of them was the ever-present glass wall, separating them from an inky, black, nine o'clock sky. It was quite beautiful in its softness and mystery, and sometimes, it even looked magical.

Derek glanced over to Spencer on the floor as the man sat beside him on the floor, pulling on the muscles of his feet with soft controlled hands. The night stretching was a ritual of Spencer's. He says it winds the muscles down and prepares them to rest. He's right. It does. He sleeps like the dead when he gets to his bed every night after rehearsals, and it hurts so good when he wakes up in the morning.

He spoke, "So… me and Penelope are getting coffee tonight."

Spencer got quiet and bent further, a bone in his back cracking as he stretched it out, "...pretty blonde Penelope?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah, her."

Spencer flexed his foot and sat back up, exhaling, "Why are you telling me this?"

Derek shrugged, "I… don't know. Just figured I should tell you."

"I'm not going to get jealous, Derek," Spencer raised his arm and placed it behind his back, tugging on it with the other, "We're in an open relationship."

Derek copied his motion, albeit poorly, "Dude, not funny."

Spencer chuckled lightly, "It's kind of funny."

Derek tugged harder on his own arm, "Well... I was going to ask if you wanted to come with."

Spencer switched arms, "No, you weren't."

Derek switched arms as well, "How do you know, Mr. Smarty Pants?"

Spencer glanced over at him, "I like to think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell when you're lying to me."

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, "Oh, yeah?"

Spencer tugged on his arm and exhaled, expanding his ribs, "I've had practice. You do it a lot."

Derek blinked, "Well, sometimes, I'm doing it to protect you."

Spencer asked, "You don't have to do that. I'm not a child. I know that this competition forces us to spend nearly every waking moment together. You wanting to hang out with other people won't hurt my feelings; makes sense actually."

Derek asked him confusedly, "But what if I do want you to come?"

Spencer released his arm and let it fall to his side, "Hard as it may be to consider, I have plans as well."

Derek let his arm fall as well, "Oh."

Spencer stood and reached out a hand to help Derek up, eyes flashing with worry and sudden anxiety as he added, "Go have coffee with National Pop Icon, Penelope Garcia. I'll see you tomorrow."

Derek allowed himself to be helped, but didn't let go of Spencer's hand when they stood close, "...I'm not sleeping with her."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes, hand pushing his hair out of his eyes, his tell, "Would I care if you were?"

Derek spoke with a smile on his face, pulling Spencer closer, "I don't know. Would you?"

Spencer's breath hitched, "I don't know. Why'd you bring it up?"

Derek replied, "You asked."

Spencer scoffed, "No, I didn't."

Derek answered, "Your eyes did."

The dancer looked away from him and snatched his hand back. Derek continued as Spencer walked away from him toward his duffel, "I like to think I know you well enough by now to be able to tell when you're lying to me. You do it a lot too."

Spencer picked up his bag and rolled his eyes as he stormed out of the door, "Don't use my words against me."

Derek shouted after him, "Are we fighting?"

Spencer shouted back, "No!"

As soon as Derek got to his phone, he cancelled the coffee date.

Sunday morning rehearsal was always taxing, but for this one, Derek was expecting Spencer to be a nightmare the moment he stepped across the threshold seeing as he was one last week—not to mention the fight they had yesterday. Surprisingly, when the dancer arrived, he seemed more than calm. He even had an heir of ease around him as if he didn't understand the concept of stress.

"Good morning," Spencer said simply as he dropped his satchel down on the side of the room, balancing his coffee cup in one hand as he shrugged the bag from his shoulder. Setting the cup down beside it, Spencer pulled his worn, baggy MIT sweatshirt over his head and tossed it toward his pile. Underneath he… he was wearing Derek's jersey. Okay, this clearly isn't real. He could see the giant "MORGAN 43" on the back of it, and noticed none too slowly that it was too big for the man's thin frame. Hell, Derek would hazard a guess that it's his own size, not the kid's. Spencer drowned in it. And to make matters worse, one side of it hung loosely off of his bare shoulder.

As he turned, Derek could see how the orange and blue that he'd spent nearly a decade in had a wonderful effect against Spencer's complexion. The orange made his golden undertones shine through, and the soft blues under his eyes, along the veins in his forearms, and on the edges of his collarbone was brought out in an almost haunting effect.

Derek ran his eyes along his spindly body as Spencer strode forward with determination in his eyes and a sultry twinge to his sly smile. He doesn't even know how Spencer heard that inner plea to go pantless last week, but he had listened and listened well as the big shirt billowed around his pale knees. Derek prayed against his body as blood rushed to his hardening groin, yet it was as if he was possessed. Shrouded in a cloud of effortless sex, Spencer sauntered on with his eyes locked on Derek's. He placed a long-fingered hand in his soft looking hair and mussed it around lazily until it hung in messy tangles all around his face.

He was barefoot and confident as he got up into Derek's space, backing the two of them closer and closer to the wall until the barre was digging into Derek's back. Spencer placed his hands on Derek's chest and spoke up at him softly with eyes shining with innocence, "Could you move aside? I need to stretch."

Derek, unable to speak, moved over and allowed Spencer full access to the barre. This had to be a dream. It was definitely a dream. There was no way in Hell that this would ever happen in the real world. Yet, here it is—happening. Spencer lifted the leg furthest from Derek and pressed his body up against it, groaning softly as he pulled on the muscles on the back of his thigh. Oh, yeah. Yep. Derek is definitely hard.

Yet, Spencer continued to stretch. As the dancer's nose pressed into his knee, he stole a glance at Derek. His eyes trailed down Derek's body and back up to his eyes before his secretive smile came back for an encore. Spencer tossed his head back and flicked his hair to his shoulder.

There really is a God.

And He so loved the world that He gave Spencer a Bears jersey.

Spencer spoke once more with a breathy voice and a searching stare, "Come help me stretch my back."

Derek obeyed instantly, hurrying to Spencer's side. The dancer faced away from him and Derek asked, "Isn't the back stretch a floor thing?"

"I've decided to switch it up a little bit if you don't mind, this one works the lumbar," Spencer said swiftly before flicking his bed messy hair out of his face once more and bending over with his legs stiff straight. He reached his pale hands toward the floor and made another one of those sweet, sweet groans as he was satisfied with the muscles tightening and loosening in place. Spencer asked, "Run your hand down my back and make sure my spine is aligned."

Derek moved closer and hesitated before touching Spencer's back with a gentle brush, "I… I don't know the first thing about spine alignment."

"I know," Spencer replied, leaning forwards and moaning through the stretch as his hands touched the hardwood. Derek stifled a groan of his own and Spencer chuckled darkly, "Mmm, just how I like my tendons. Nice and tight."

Derek breathed, "Holy shit."

Spencer asked effortlessly, "You want me, don't you Derek?"

Derek nodded, cleared his throat and responded shakily, "Y… yeah."

Spencer pressed his back harder against Derek's hands, "You think about me like this, all loose and pliant and slutty for you. Am I wrong?"

Derek shook his head, eyes clouded in shame, "No."

Spencer let his fingers tap against the floor, "But, you're too much of a bitch to come and confront me about it. Right?"

Derek chuckled nervously, "I wouldn't blame me. You're kind of scary."

Spencer snapped up quickly, his entire back pressed flat against Derek's chest and his soft hair falling against his cheek, "And, you like it. You like the way I scare you. You like the way I leave you guessing. You like the way I show off my mind, you like the way I look at you all innocently, and you like the way my lips move when I snap at you for being an idiot, and, God, do you like the way I dance with you. You want every single inch of me, and it kills you how worried you are that I'll reject you."

Derek paused, "'Worried' is a strong word…"

Spencer turned and faced him.

Derek looked into his large brown eyes.

Spencer spoke sharply, "Eww! Gross! Get off of me! How old are you, you perv? Fifty?"

Derek's stomach fell and his heart rate quickened, "Forty two."

Spencer took a step back, "You're disgusting. Why would you think I would even consider you? You're a has-been, you're washed up, and come on. Look at me. I'm fucking gorgeous. I've passed my prime and I keep getting hotter. What about you, handsy old man?"

Derek took an unstable breath and raised his hands in defense, "Kid, I didn't touch you."

Spencer hissed, raising his voice in anger and disgust, "You wanted to! Don't deny it! I see the way you look at me! I always see it, and I have to deal with you every single day!"

Derek growled, adding back, "You didn't even give me a chance! You're so quick to judge! You don't know me! You don't know my life! I don't need you giving me shit on top of it!"

Spencer scoffed, "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry Mr. MVP. Life must be so hard making millions a year."

"It is!" Derek hissed, "My career is over, my glory days are gone, and my woman was sleeping with other men because she was sick of me! I'm not even going to go into what I was like before I got lucky at Northwestern. Just when my life is finally making sense, you show up and ruin it!"

Spencer folded his arms, "I ruined your life?"

Derek whipped back, "Yes! You did! I would be fine with a loveless marriage. I would be fine retired, writing some dumb shit novel and traveling the world with my mom. I would be fine without having to publicly come out and stain the name I built for myself from the ground up, but now that you're here… I have feelings! Feelings, man! I don't just want your body, I want you. I want every part of you and this is how I'm internalizing it, alright?! It's so hard, wanting all of you. There's so much of you to fall for that I don't even know where to begin, so yeah, my mind's jumping straight to sex. Because, I want you. From your ugly sweater vests to your crazy shoe collection to your PhDs, I want you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

Spencer's face fell into an unreadable stance, "I… I didn't know all that."

"Well, you should have asked!" Derek nodded and barely even got a word out before Spencer was tackling him against the barre and shoving their mouths together into a sloppy kiss. Spencer's lips were dry, but soft. His face was clean and stubbly and he smelled so much of that pine vanilla. So much. Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's body and embraced him, returning the kisses with ease as they heated up. Spencer grabbed the sides of Derek's face and pushed his tongue into Derek's mouth aggressively. He was butchy. Good God, that was hot.

Grabbing the dancer by the backs of his thighs, he spread the man's legs and shoved him onto the top rail of the barre, sandwiching himself between his legs for a harder, hotter touch. This isn't real anyway, so, you know what? Fuck it. Sexy, jersey clad fantasy!Spencer wants it rough? Well, that's what he's getting. Derek shoved his fists into Spencer's hair and pulled harshly. Spencer moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, pressing their chests together. Spencer's hands were everywhere at once, he was all over Derek's body. That jersey was very thin, and it rode up Spencer's softly toned thighs. Derek tugged harder on Spencer's hair and the dancer's neck snapped up. He had always ached to kiss along that long neck, and took the opportunity to do so, laving his lips and tongue all over the skin.

Spencer let out a sharp moan as Derek sucked onto the base of his left collarbone, near his pressure point. He tightened his legs around Derek and made another loud, needy sound when Derek did it again.

He hissed out, "Harder!" and reveled in it as Derek obliged him happily.

Spencer's long fingers scraped their nails along the back of Derek's head, "Fuck!"

Derek ran his hand up Spencer's thigh and traveled to his bare waist. He was in nothing but the jersey. Nothing. Derek pulled him closer, sliding his hand up further against Spencer's skin. He sucked passionately at Spencer's neck and felt up his chest, the jersey bunching up his caramel colored arm as he did so. "Ahh, Derek!" He grabbed Derek's head and forced it closer into his skin as he tossed his head back in the throes of his arousal, saying loudly, "I'll make sure it's just you in the crowd, doing tricks you've never seen. I know that I can make you believe in love and sex and magic—"

"Let me drive my body around you, I bet you know what I mean. I know that I can make you believe in—"

Derek sleepily leaned over to switch the alarm on his phone to "snooze", panting, sweaty and hard as a rock in his plaid pajama pants. This is the fourth time this week. Derek sighed, the first step is acknowledging it. He has a problem. A sexy, sexy problem. And he doesn't have the slightest clue of how to deal with it.

A/N: For FF's regulation rules, the final scene has been edited because it escalates to... stuff. There's a full scene in the AO3 version which uploads tomorrow afternoon. Just put "Raising the Barre" into the Archive's search engine and you should find it just fine if you're interested.

Toodles,

Blue