A/N: Moment of silence for that last episode of Criminal Minds. If "Route 66" didn't make you want to cry your eyes out... fuck. And all the M/R moments like the thing with the book and Morgan was all "I'll wait for the movie" I just... *sigh* I'm clearly still in fangirl mode. Don't mind me.

Love,

Blue

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Deal

Derek slunk along the people-filled hallway on the fifth floor—a man on a mission. As he scoured the names on the dressing room doors, he searched out his partner's. Peta Mergatroyd. Mark Ballas. Derek Hough. Sharna. Karina. Val. Kym. Doc! There he is, nearly at the end.

A couple of company tee-shirted people zoomed past, wheeling a large metal contraption with sparkly clothes hanging from it, and shocked Derek into whiplash for a moment. Penelope walked by, her gown in a bunch at her knees as she scuttled by, hissing at the people who threatened to step on it. She missed Derek's wave, but that was okay. He wasn't here for her. Not now. Derek raised a knuckle and knocked thrice. Spencer called out, "Dammit, Tristan, for the millionth time! You cannot borrow my hairspray! You always forget to give it back!"

Derek chuckled and knocked once more.

"I love you, man, I do. But if I have to tell you one more time," Spencer hissed, striding toward the door.

Derek knocked again.

"I had to buy about six different cans over the last few—" Spencer opened the door and his eyes fell on Derek, "You're not Tristan."

Derek glanced along Spencer's wet hair and bare chest, left to his view from Spencer's open shirt, "Baby, for you… I could be."

"Don't be a smartass," Spencer blushed and opened the door wider so that Derek could enter, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his blue Oxford as his partner slipped into the room. He wore the shirt over a tan pair of corduroys, a white towel around his neck to keep his damp hair from soaking into the fabric. Derek closed the door behind him and stole one more glance at Spencer's bare chest. He was pretty cutely built-if that's possible for a man.

The dancer reached up to scratch behind his neck and he looked just like that. A dancer. Spencer wasn't chiseled, muscled, or ripped, but then again, a gust of wind wasn't knocking him over any time soon either. His stomach was nearly flat, small dips in them showing the strength in his core. He had miles of smooth, milky skin seemingly soft to the touch. His clavicles were sharp and sudden, pushing at the skin below his long, slender neck, and Derek resisted walking over to him and running his tongue along the jutting bone. Spencer let out a scoff at the attention and Derek launched himself onto the make-up counter that doubled as a vanity wall and swung his feet over the edge of it after seating himself on it, "I'm not being a smartass, I'm being real, because damn, baby boy. You sexy as hell. I might go as far as to say 'you furne'."

Spencer glanced up, "Furne?"

Derek replied, "It's like 'fine', but better."

Spencer rolled his eyes at Derek, continuing up his shirt and dismissively mumbling a reply.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Derek waved his hands around, "Don't be in such a rush to close up that shirt."

Spencer let out a chuckle, buttoning the shirt up and flattening the collar out, "When I kissed you, I was not giving you permission to be a free-spirited perv."

"Oh, please! All men over the age of thirteen are pervs. Besides, dudes go topless all the time, and I've never seen your chest before. Well, not you were awake anyway," Derek groaned.

Spencer paused, "That statement didn't help your case at all."

Derek sighed, "We were drunk, and you saw me topless too! It's not like I creeped on you. Well... fine, I creeped on you, but only for a second."

Spencer gasped, "Derek!"

He added, "I didn't get that good a peek that time, so I'll tell you what. I'll give you five bucks if you take off your shirt."

Spencer folded his arms, "Five dollars? Really?"

Derek upped the ante, "Ten."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek groaned and leaned his back against the mirror, "Fine. Thirty. I'm not going higher than that. My car's low on gas and I didn't stop by the pump this afternoon."

Spencer hissed at him, pinning up the last button of his shirt right against his neck, "I'm not a stripper and I will not be paid like one."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "So, you'd do it for free?"

Spencer growled, muttering to himself, "Men. Sometimes I wish I was straighter."

Derek paused his speech as Spencer reached the top button on his shirt, fastening it with ease, "Come on, man—all perving aside—you're seriously buttoning to the neck? Really? Who are you, the Bow Tie Killer?"

Spencer chuckled lightly at Derek's reference, letting the first two buttons free, "Fine, how's this?"

"I'd prefer three buttons, but you know I'm not picky," Derek said with a teasing smile.

Spencer scoffed mirthfully, "What?! Dude, you're hella picky. I had to stand in a Wawa line with you last week, and nearly died of old age waiting for you to choose your sub."

Derek joked with a gasp, "I like my bread toasted to perfection, okay?"

Spencer added, "With mushrooms and garlic and cayenne peppers and everything else on the planet that makes your breath toxic."

Derek said heatlessly, "Shut up, prima, you don't know nothin' about a good hot sub."

Spencer smiled up at him, something evil brewing behind his eyes, "I know plenty about hot subs..."

Derek pointed at Spencer, "Did you just make a sexual innuendo? About BDSM?"

Spencer countered while striding up to his make-up station, "Well, I had to. You called me a prima and told me to shut up."

"Yes, I did," Derek replied, "And I'll say it again. 'Shut up, prima'."

Spencer walked closer to Derek, "First of all, it's 'premier danseur'. And secondly… if you want me to shut up, you're going to have to make me."

Derek eyed the dancer as he approached him, standing right at his knees. Spencer's eyes softly faded into a slow, lingering glance. Preparing to speak, Derek opened his mouth to feel Spencer's finger along it, closing it shut. He was so close, so very close. Moving closer then, Spencer's lips nearly brushed Derek's as he whispered, "You're sitting on my tie."

Blinking quickly, Derek scrambled off of the counter. His face gained blood as he stepped aside to let Spencer take his skinny red vintage tie from where he was seated. Spencer pushed up his collar wrapping the tie loosely around his neck and holding the ends out to Derek, "Help me with it?"

"Y-yeah, sure," Derek said, taking the ends of the tie and moving closer.

Spencer bit his lip and spoke into their shared space, "You smell really good..."

Derek wrapped one end of the tie around the other, "Do I?"

Spencer moved closer, "Yeah... you tasted pretty good too."

Derek glanced up, "You minx. Are you trying to seduce me?"

Spencer hooked his forefingers into Derek's belt straps between the denim and the leather belt, tugging on them gently, "Maybe, I am. Maybe, I'm not. Maybe... you did a nice job of throwing me around the dance floor tonight and I'm thinking of ways to repay you..."

"I can think of one," Derek answered, brushing his nose against Spencer's as their breaths played across their lips.

Spencer whispered out, "Tell me it."

Derek looked up into Spencer's eyes, letting the ends of the tie lay undone in his hands as he took a breath and replied, "Well, you can start by… talking to me about what happened in that closet."

Spencer let out a -tch- and licked his lips impatiently, "Why?!"

Derek sighed, "Because I have no idea what you want from me. One second, you're insulting me; the next, you're all over me. I mean, we... we need to communicate, or we're not going to work out at all. Not as partners, not as friends, not as whatever else. Spence, you need to talk to me because you. Are. Confusing. As. All. Hell."

"You want us to talk? Fine!" Spencer glared at him, pulling the ends of his tie from Derek's hands, "We kissed, okay?! Big deal! We don't need to discuss this. What are we, fourteen?"

Derek placed his hand gently on the side of Spencer's face, "I just want to know why. Does that make me a child?"

Spencer gave Derek a pleading look, leaning into his hand, "No, it doesn't, man. I-I'm sorry I'm spazzing on you, I just…"

Derek asked, "You just what?"

Spencer nervously pushed his damp hair behind his ear, "I don't want to talk about it."

Derek ran his thumb along Spencer's cheek, "And why not?"

Spencer got quiet, breathing out, "I don't want you to get mad at me."

The edge of Derek's lips quirked up, "Spencer, I promise I won't get mad. Out with it."

"I just… I kissed you. I moved my head." Spencer breathed out, face growing with color as he hung his head in shame, "You were doing a horrible Tango, but you thought you were so perfect. It was… really cute. And the closet was so dark, and intimate, and there weren't any cameras. No one would know. Just us. And I… I really wanted to kiss you. Just once. To see what it felt like. I know that I had a moment of weakness, and for that, I apologize. Just please, I'm begging you, let it go."

Derek leaned forward and pulled Spencer into his arms, feeling the man's face buried into his neck as the football player smirked, "You don't have to apologize, kid. I'm not mad. I'm just glad you told me."

Spencer mumbled into his shoulder, awkwarding his way out of the hug, "You sure you're not freaked out? You don't think I'm some weird kid with a creepy gay crush on you?"

Derek laughed aloud, "Of course not! Crush?! Are you serious?! I was just kidding when I said that... I mean... I could have sworn you thought I was a handsy old man!"

"What?! No! That's… the furthest thing from my mind. Handsy old man? Come on, you're more like this dashing… suave… sexy…" Spencer's voice trailed off and he cleared his throat, "Anyway! Yeah. I had it in my mind that you thought I was this weirdo poindexter that the DWTS production team stuck you with. It's been clawing at me for weeks."

Derek replied, "What gave you that idea?!"

Spencer said, "Did you miss the part where you called me an alien? And Geek-a-saurus Rex? And Jimmy Nerd-tron? And compared me to your grandmother? Yeah, that did a lot for the small shred of security I had left in my sexuality. Thank you very much."

Derek waved it off, "Come on, man, I was just kidding around. You are extremely attractive. Yes, you have a nerdy side, but it's endearing. And you were asking for the grandma thing with the way that you drive, I mean Jesus Christ. It's like you think snails are speeding."

Spencer asked, "Now that you're apologizing for rude comments, are you going to take back the 'lady butt' thing?"

Derek moaned, glancing around Spencer, "Hell no. You're skin may be white, but that ass is Brazillian. And, I praise God for it."

Spencer's eyes widened in realization as he took in the information, "Oh! So, you think my butt is nice? I thought you thought it was weird looking and—oh, you voyeuristic prick! That's why you stare at my ass during lessons!"

Derek nodded his head, "You're getting it."

"No, I'm not," Spencer sighed, "I mean you're… you. Super badass football star. And I'm me. Twiggy little stage queer. We shouldn't be involved. Ever. It's like a rule of the universe. Newton's hidden fourth law of motion or something."

Derek turned his head to the side, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spencer gestured toward himself, "It means that guys like me pine and crush on and lust after guys like you," Spencer then gestures to Derek, "And guys like you throw guys like me headfirst into trashcans and call us 'faggots'. That's just how the world works."

Derek chuckled, "...I can't call you a faggot, you're not on that level of gay to receive the title."

Spencer sighed, "I've slept with men before. Isn't that enough to accept me into the Faggotry?"

Derek shook his head, "No, man. Hell no. Fag is an insult you earn and wear with pride. It takes years and years of dedication, self-stereotyping, and whoring around to gain. I guarantee you. You haven't reached that stage yet. If you did, you'd know."

Spencer tossed his hands up, "Whatever! So, I'm not a fag! It doesn't matter anyway! Truth is: you're hot, I'm not; you're rule, I drool; you sit at the popular table of life and I eat in the bathroom! And it bothers me to no end that you haven't punched me in the nose for kissing you yet!"

Derek answered, "You mouth-fucked me so good, I'm still feeling hot. Why would I want to punch you?"

Spencer muttered, "Rrh! Derek! No! You're not getting it and this is so frustrating! I wish I could just turn it off, you know?! That's it. Plain and simple. I don't want to like you! I don't want to get those stupid butterfly things in my stomach when you smile at me! My God, do I not want to have a naive little girly-crush on you! You're my hot student! I'm your teacher! And here I am, asking you to fix my tie for me like some loose floosy because I want you to pound me for what I did to you!"

Derek raised his eyebrows, "You want me to pound you?"

Spencer closed his eyes, "It would make me feel better if you did."

Derek stifled a laugh, "I don't think you know what pounding means..."

Spencer promised, "I definitely do not."

"Kid, listen," Derek replied, stepping into Spencer's space and gripping his shoulder, "You can't get so hung up over a kiss. It happened, and you can't be mad at it. And if you have feelings for me, hey, that's great. You can't help who you crush on, believe me. If it was possible, the world would be a very different place. But, if that's not enough for you, fine. I can't change your mind. You can keep on being mad, I won't complain," Derek reached over and touched a tendril of Spencer's damp hair, "You're insanely beautiful when you are."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, "Come on, man, stop it with the 'beautiful' shit."

Derek took Spencer's hands in his, "No. Because you are beautiful, you dick. These last few weeks… have been a crazy train because of you. I planned on locking myself in the closet and swallowing the key before I even met you. Then, I entered this competition and, here you are. Being funny, and charming, and talented, and brilliant, and beautiful as all hell—pretty much everything I didn't need at the time. And thanks to that, I went and fell for you like the dumb bastard I am. So, for all the emotional turmoil, angst, and frustration I have suffered by your hand, the one thing you can do for me is take the damned compliment."

Spencer blinked, "Well."

Derek laughed, "Yeah."

A smile crept up on Spencer's face, "I… wow, Derek. I'm flattered, really. But—"

Derek replied, "Let me guess. You're shooting me down?"

Spencer shook his head and made a face, "Please don't take it personally. We can't... date or anything. No matter how we feel. It's still inappropriate."

Derek added with a little smirk, "How about we don't date, then?"

Spencer paused, "… I don't understand."

Derek took a breath, "As much as this kills me, we have other options."

Spencer laughed, "What are they?"

Derek spoke, "We could do nothing at all, you know? Go to rehearsals and pretend as if we don't want to rip each other's clothes off, waiting patiently as the sexual frustration strangles us to our untimely deaths."

Spencer chuckled, "You want to rip my clothes off?"

Derek smirked, "Like they're on fire."

"Likewise. I don't want that first option. Sexual tension and I aren't friends," Spencer responded, "Give me another."

Derek added, "Option number two: we could drop the competition altogether. Pursing each other would no longer be inappropriate, seeing as our pesky student-teacher complex would go poof."

Spencer made a face, "Fuck no. This job's paying off my student loans. Besides, even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't. I'm on contract."

Derek replied, "I'm not."

Spencer glared, "Derek."

"I know, I know. Sportsmanship and integrity bullshit. That's why there's a third option." Derek raised his eyebrows, "… sneaking around. It sounds smart, but be warned. This calls for random instances of rabid, passionate, lust-driven sex. No strings. No boyfriend benefits. All business."

Spencer started to smile, "Intrigued."

Derek raised a point, "And I'm not doing the whole love-em-and-leave-em thing either, okay? That's that little boy stuff. After we fuck, I'm going to be there in the morning making you breakfast like an adult because I respect the shit out of you."

Spencer blushed, "Well, I wouldn't mind that. I respect the shit out of you too. I'd want you to stay."

"Good, because I always make too much coffee," Derek said easily, eyeing Spencer up, "Plus, seeing you in bed all grumpy and rumpled in your pajamas is a perk I can't skip out on."

Spencer stared Derek down, "But, what if I fall asleep naked?"

Derek paused, "...that would be a game changer."

"It would," Spencer asked, "You know what, say we chose this... could we add non-sexual things to the agreement?"

Derek replied, "Non-sexual things like what, man? Cuz, I could have sworn I just said 'no boyfriend shit'."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Come on, I'm serious. I meant non-sexual things like... casual make-out sessions, and tee shirt stealing, and Doctor Who nights. You know, stuff like that."

Derek blinked, "Eww. What am I, your boo?"

Spencer pushed at Derek's chest, "Of course, not. Gross. I just wanted to know if that kind of stuff is totally off limits, because, I'm going to be honest, a good hard fucking sounds great—especially on a regular basis with a breakfast guarantee—but sometimes I just want to snuggle, you know?"

Derek added, "If that's what you want, sure. I don't mind. It's been a while since someone braided my hair and gave me a manicure."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at his partner, "Hey! I'm a man who likes cuddling, okay? That's just who I am. Don't mock me."

"Dude, it's fine, really. All jokes aside, I'm a bit of a fan of it too. Especially on couches. Watching a movie or something. Some hot chocolate. A fuzzy blanket-" Derek pointed a warning finger at Spencer, "Tell anyone I said any of that and you're dead. I'm serious. I know people back in Chicago that can kill you with a toothpick in sixteen different ways."

Spencer grinned, "I won't breathe a word of it. Have we reached a consensus?"

Derek replied, "Yeah, I guess we have."

"Good. Wanna shake on it?" Spencer grinned, holding out a hand.

Derek took his hand, "Damn right."

Spencer shook Derek's hand, "Sex partners?"

Derek shook, "Sex partners. You are now officially under oath. I hope you realize what you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, please. You're the one who doesn't know what's coming," Spencer scoffed, "I've been on a pretty long dry spell, so I'm going to be a bit... hard to control."

Derek released his hand, saying, "Just what I like to hear" as Spencer glanced fondly back at him. The two held the look for a few moments before Spencer pushed his damp hair behind his ear, "Well… I gotta finish getting dressed, so…"

"Yeah. Of course." Derek added, gesturing toward the door, "Do you want me to…"

Spencer made a considering face, "You should probably… yeah."

Derek took a step back, "We're not going to seal it with a kiss?"

Spencer let out a mysterious smile, "Not yet."

Derek raised his palms in earnest, "Holding off on me already, huh? That's kinda hot. I'll just be out then."

Spencer chuckled with a snort, "Get out of my dressing room, handsy old man."

Derek gave Spencer a little grin as he ducked out of the door, "Later, sexy."

Spencer raised his hand, "See you."

Closing the door behind him, Derek pumped his fist in the crowded hallway and murmured, "Yes!"

Tuesday night came in a rush and before they knew it, it was time for one couple to be eliminated. As the only couple to earn not only one—but two—scores of ten from the previous night, the two were obviously staying for another week. The flurry of dancers and stars around them were bustling about as usual. Cameras were rushing around behind them as pictures were taken and Tweets were sent and statuses were updated, it was a very hectic time. And there Spencer stood, fiddling with his bowtie. The kid obviously couldn't get it straight, and instead of helping, Derek just stood and watched with a smile on his face.

Spencer grimaced and placed his hands at his sides. He had given up. At least, he had for the next two minutes. Within that time, he'll probably be at it again. He always gets nervous before elimination, whether they're a shoo-in or not. Spencer could be found constantly biting his lips, brushing his hair behind his ears, and shifting from foot to foot. His eyes never stay in the same set place for too long, and if he's wearing something, he will be tugging on it and fixing it over and over. Speaking of… there he goes with the tie again.

Derek reached toward his partner's tie, "You need help with that, Doctor?"

"You are aware that I was feigning yesterday, right?" Spencer murmured, "…I know how to loop a bowtie."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Well, you're doing a piss poor job at it. You've got it all knotted up."

Spencer sighed in defeat and turned to Derek, presenting himself and gesturing at his collar, "I'm aware. Pre-elimination jitters, you know? Sometimes, I hear the crowd, and it's like… a big roaring monster. I can handle Hotch, Dave, and Jennifer, but they're not the only ones judging me, you understand?"

Derek got into Spencer's space and placed his hands at his bowtie, looping the correct ends through each other, "Judgment? Boy, do I know it. Sports Center has dragged my name through the mud so bad this morning that dental records couldn't identify it."

Spencer let out a small laugh and covered his mouth with his hand, "I'm sorry. Your analogy was just—sorry. That's not funny."

Derek hissed, "Like hell it's not. I worked so hard—decades—to get where I am, and they make it seem like none of it mattered. They used to praise me, now I'm the butt of every NFL joke."

Spencer bit his lips and gave Derek a soulful look, "It's unfair of them to do that."

"And it's unfair of you to ruin your tux over nerves, because I have to stand next to your rumpled ass on live television," Derek straightened Spencer's tie one last time and pressed a palm to his face, "Don't worry your pretty little head over me. I've got tough quarterback skin. I'll be fine."

Spencer mumbled under his breath, "Not pretty."

Derek pinched his cheek, despite the pitter of cameras snapping and people running, "Yes, you are."

Spencer glared up at him with that little kitten glower, lips poked out in a way that made Derek want to kiss smooth, "No, I'm not, Derek. Cut it out."

Derek added, smooshing Spencer's cheeks in his hands so that his pout intensified, "You're cute and sweet and adorable and happiness and rainbows and puppies."

Spencer's glare intensified through his mashed cheeks, "I. Hate. You."

Derek leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spencer's forehead. He was so cute when he was angry. Derek whispered that against his skin and Spencer relaxed under the kiss, hands gripped loosely around Derek's wrists. Spencer whined, "Derek..."

A camera flashed beside them and a tall woman in glasses said from behind the large Nikkon, "Money shot!"

"Fuck," Derek hissed under his breath, dropping his hands from Spencer's face, "Who do you work for?"

She winked and sped off, "FOX News!"

Derek growled, "Double fuck!"

Spencer laughed, rubbing his jaw, "Hey, on a good note, my Prince Eric hair probably looked fabulous in that shot."

Derek grimaced, "Man, ain't nobody give a fuck about your girly-ass hair."

Spencer leaned in and whispered, "That's not what you said when you were sexting me about pulling on it last night."

Derek raised a finger, "You little vixen. I'm on to you."

Spencer laugh once more and wiggled his eyebrows, "Good. That means you're not as slow as you look."

Derek's jaw dropped, "Ow!"

For what seems like the millionth time, Team Wild Card was stuck under the white spotlight with the eyes of millions on them as they were told yay or nay. For the yay-ers, everything would be coming up roses and for that one team that gets the axe… shame. Complete and total shame. At this point in the competition, the only people leaving the competition were the stinkers. And Derek and Spencer don't stink. Well… not in that way. They dance beautifully together, even though it looks a little weird to the seasoned eye. There's no way they're going to be left to pack their bags. No way in Hell. Spencer really shouldn't be nervous. Derek isn't. He's not even worried.

Bring on the competition.

They stood in line beside Penelope and Gleb, Emily and Hough, and Ashley and Tristan. Derek and Spencer stuck out like a sore thumb in their two tuxedos, but in their recent victory, the group of three looked nervous about their placement. If that wasn't an ego boost, Derek doesn't know what is.

Penelope leaned over before the host started calling the names and winked a glittery eyelash at Derek, mouthing the words soundlessly, "Prepare to die."

Derek nearly laughed. While their Lindy Hop was cute last week, Derek and Spencer kicked everyone's ass with that Argentine Tango. Derek would be rocking in a fetal position on the floor if someone else did that dance that well on the same week as him. Not to be arrogant, but God they were in a good spot right now.

Patting Spencer's shoulder, Derek shook it with a tough smack, "Don't worry. We're not leaving tonight."

The crowd was signaled to die down and the host brought out his glittery red card, gesturing to the group of dancers and starting on some spiel about them coming so far to get where they are. Derek tuned him out. Whatever, dude. Just get to the name calling. Spencer twitched beside him and Derek reached over and grabbed his hand on impulse, lacing their fingers together. After a moment, Spencer visibly relaxed if not a little bit and edged closer to him until their arms were touching. Derek looked over at him and caught his eyes. Spencer's large brown ones seemed to smile up at him. Derek itched to kiss his forehead again, but he knew that it would be a line crossed—especially considering the whole no-strings thing they're in.

The host called out, "The first group to stay is…"

Theatrical pause. Theatrical pause. Theatrical pause.

"Derek and Spencer!" he shouted out, "Who were also voted to do the spotlight dance tonight!"

Spencer's face lit up and he jumped, pulling his hand from Derek's just in time to punch him in the arm. Derek let out an, "Ah!" but before he could complain further, the lights went out. Spencer hugged him around the neck and murmured, "You're amazing." A smile peeked up on Derek's lips and Spencer shoved him, "Don't get cocky."

The two had to head down quickly across the stage to prepare to tango once more for the crowd who apparently liked it so much that they were voted above every other pair to see it again. As soon as they made it behind the cameraless curtain, Derek brought his hand to his own tie, "Is this on straight?"

Spencer joked, "No, it's on gay."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Just fix it."

"You're stealing my move," Spencer answered easily, sparing a glance at it reaching up to fix it anyway.

Derek smirked, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Spencer replied, poking at Derek's chest, "Remember to relive the weight on your back foot for the lift and watch your posture."

Derek noted, "Posture, posture."

Spencer placed a flat hand on the base of his spine, "Pretend that there's a steel rod in place of your spine. You can't do anything but bend at the waist, okay?"

Derek replied, "Weird, but doable."

Spencer brushed off Derek's jacket at the shoulders and his hands ended atop his chest as he looked up into Derek's eyes, "You're going to do great, okay?"

Derek smiled at him, "Of course."

Spencer slid a hand up to his neck, "No, really, Derek. You're going to do great. You're amazing."

Derek waved his hand, "Aww, shucks, Mister."

Spencer laughed and brought a hand down on Derek's chest, "I'm proud of you, you jerk, don't ruin it."

"I won't," Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Speaking of doing amazing… I need to be in the passionate mood to do this dance correctly, right?"

Spencer pointed seriously, "Yes! Yes, you do."

Derek wrapped his arms around Spencer's small frame, tugging him close, "Imma need you to help me out with that."

Spencer breathed, "Come here."

"Barking orders, huh? Mmm, I like," Derek replied as Spencer chuckled and pulled him into the shadows of the wall, bringing them close until all he could see was those soft brown eyes. "Shut up," Spencer murmured as he moved forward to kiss him.

But, before their lips could meet, music started on the other side of the curtain and the two separated, Spencer running out before him. Derek followed him out with a goofy smile on his face. God, this kid is going to be the death of him. He'll enjoy every minute of it.

They began to Tango to the upbeat song, Spencer becoming the fussy date and Derek the desperate, doting lover. The steps were still fresh in their heads, as they had each move and twist in their sense memory. They weren't getting judged tonight, so this dance wasn't about professionalism, sharp lines, or crisp stance. This dance was all about having fun with the moves. Derek twirled Spencer around and he felt free to laugh when Spencer served up little pouts. The dancer stayed in character for about thirty seconds into the dance before cracking his first smile at Derek. The crowd was clapping along with the music as they danced the Latin dance, moving around each other in courting twists.

Then, it happened.

"Get off the stage, queers!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Derek glanced over to the crowd and Spencer clenched his grip on Derek's hands, leading him back into the dance. Derek finished his four-step, his jaw locked as the shouting man had an accomplice.

"You guys are disgusting!"

"This isn't dancing!"

"Come on, dudes, gross! Lets get some ladies up in here!"

"Get the gays off the stage!"

"Fags!

"Yeah! Leave! Get out!"

The sound of the music was noticeably heightened to try to drown them out. It was too late at that point, they were way too loud. It was a group. And as Derek turned Spencer to do their lift, he noticed that they had big signs with them that said unspeakable things. Those motherfuckers planned this.

Security strode up to the groups before Derek could even let Spencer down. Derek felt a tug on his collar as Spencer landed in his arms and looked into Spencer's impatient eyes. The dancer was urging him on. Derek completed the move and Spencer and hissed, "Forget them and twirl me, dammit!"

The group was being hauled out of the audience, still shouting and kicking and screaming Bible verses at them as Derek spun back to Spencer and kicked out a decent two-step. It wasn't his best, but he was so far away from this dance right now. When the chorus picked up, Spencer got into Derek's space and instead of allowing himself to be grabbed by the waist, he did the turn himself and kept his eyes on Derek, consequently giving Derek time to get over the assholes in the crowd.

Derek took Spencer's waist and dipped him, going for the next move with his eyes on his dance partner. Spencer went with it and tried to get the hype back up again. They eventually did. It only took a few seconds to get back where they were supposed to be. After that, the mood in the room was hard to ignore. Mostly everyone in the crowd was pissed off, and so was Derek. Either they agreed with the yelling group of 'phobes, or they were angered by the interruption.

The two completed the dance in silence.

Spencer cast a look over at him while the audience gave hesitant applause, "Well, that was horrible."

Derek clenched his jaw. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. He caught his breath beside his partner and looked around, seeing their eyes glued to him. Jesus. Everyone was still staring at him. Spencer was a dancer, he'd faced assholes like this his whole life, but this level of hatred was kind of new to Derek. He'd only experienced a bit of it during the "Marcus Thing". But, this? This hurt. It hurt bad. And, God. Everyone was staring at him. Derek pursed his lips and pushed past Spencer, heading straight for the exit with his hands balled up into fists, "I need a minute."

Derek strode into his hotel room late that night, tired out of his mind. He barely gave himself time to close and lock the door before he collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes. Yes, this feels good. He smells like stale sweat, and his socks are damp, but this right here is what dreams are made of. Derek snuggled his face into the pillow as if it were an old friend and mumbled nonsense into it. It was his best friend today. Oh, yes. His very best friend.

The sheets smelled like lavender and the floor was nice and vacuumed. Seems like the cleaning lady came in here and spruced up a bit. Just as Derek was starting to relax into the nice, warm, clean bed…

His phone started singing "Genuine Only" as obnoxiously as possible. Derek partially blames Spencer for this Ne-yo kick he's been on lately as he raised his head in confusion. He didn't even notice that he fell asleep. Derek glanced out of the window, seeing the shallow light streaming in through the window.

Derek reached across the sheets and grabbed it, reading the caller ID. Fuck. His mom. Now? Really? Rrh.

He held the phone up to his ear and mumbled into his pillow, "Ma? It's five thirty in the morning."

"Time change! I forgot. I'm so sorry, sweetie. I was just worried," Mrs. Morgan's voice rang out worriedly, "Oh, Derry Bear, are you okay? I missed Wednesday's performance and just turned on the little ABC thingy on that phone you gave me, and saw a bit of last night. I feel so bad about what happened. I wish I was there for you, baby. How are you holding up?"

Derek said tiredly into the fabric, "I'm fine. Those guys were taken down by security; it was fun to watch."

His mother worried, "But they were so mean! I don't know how you could stand it! Do you want me to come over there? Mommy will make you some soup, we'll snuggle up in fleece blankets, and watch Days of Our Lives."

Derek's head popped up from his pillow, "Was anyone around you when you said that sentence?"

She replied, "No, just my hairdresser."

Derek let out a deep breath, "Oh, thank God. Tell Julio I said 'hi'."

Over the years, Julio has heard so many conversations between him and his mother that it's practically like he's involved. He's given advice, sworn himself to secrecy, and has begged to trim Derek's beard, so the guy is pretty much a cousin to him.

His mother said a muffled, "Derek says 'hi'."

Julio exclaimed from the other end of the phone, "Chello, mi amor! Your mother nees to gedda better condishioner! Please help her out, pobrecito."

"I will, Julio," Derek smiled back, turning on his bed to lay on his back. Yes, that felt wonderful.

Julio replied, "And, Der-eek, I saw chu on TV a couple nights ago with that handsome lil hombre. Is he see-ink anyone?"

Derek chuckled, "Could you please give the phone back to my mother?"

"Yess," Julio pouted, "I laff chu."

Derek laughed, "I love you too, man."

Julio let out a squeal and handed the phone to his mother. Mrs. Morgan replied, "So, if you need a little Mommy-and-Son time, I am glad to oblige. I'll take a couple of days off work and we'll just have a weekend. Does that sound nice?"

Derek sighed into the phone, staring up at the ceiling, "Mom, really, I'm fine. People want to get crazy over our performances, let 'em. They sure as hell got an eyeful on Monday and they'll get another next week. Spencer and I are fine."

His mother nodded, "And the real answer?"

Derek paused and licked his lower lip in worry, "I… I remember how I felt when this first happened to me, and I'm a jerk. I ran and let him deal with it alone. I don't want him to have to feel like that, you know? Like I won't ever be there. He wasn't mad at me or nothing, but... I know I messed up, Ma. I just want to take it all back. Stand there and be strong for him. He deserves that."

He could nearly hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "He can look after himself, Derek, he's a grown man. It's not your responsibility."

Derek let out a weak quirk of his lips, "Is it wrong that I want it to be?"

Mrs. Morgan spoke, "Honey, it's not wrong. Not at all. That's what I told you in the sixth grade, remember. Kenny Washington. Ooh, you had such a crush on that boy, but you denied it to no end. It was hilarious."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Come on, Mom. Please don't bring up Kenny."

She added, "You know, I saw his mother in the supermarket yesterday and we had the nicest conversation. He's a soccer coach now at the Middle School you guys used to go to. Very handsome man. Nice genes, good breeding. His career choice could be a bit more lucrative, but I'm not judging."

Derek warned, "Could you not try to set me up right now, Ma?"

"I'm not trying to set you up," she explained, "I know you have Jordan. I'm just saying—"

Derek rushed, "I don't actually have Jordan anymore."

"…what?" she replied.

Derek smiled weakly, "She's been cheating on me for months now, and I recently found out. Short story: she started the fight, I ended it. For good."

Mrs. Morgan clapped, "Oh, thank the Lord! Y'all knew I couldn't stand that girl. I want to say she'll have Hell to pay for sneaking around on you, but I'm just so goddamn glad she's gone. Ooh, boy, I could sing."

Derek laughed, "Mama, you know you ratchet."

She giggled, "Hell yeah, I am! My baby's free!"

Derek sidenoted, "Eh… not quite."

His mother sighed with a smile still left over, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's been a couple of weeks since the break up, and in that time—" Derek started.

Mrs. Morgan stopped him with a grin in her voice, "It's your instructor, isn't it?"

Derek felt his face flush as he replied, "… not really. I have a thing for him is all, you know? Kid's got under my skin. I can't help it."

She gasped with a laugh, "Oh, Derek, I'm so proud of you! I told you he was an excellent young man. I told you. He's so handsome, and kind, and polite—not to mention a doctor. You should have him over for a weekend! That would be wonderful!"

Derek sighed, "Mom! We're not together."

His mother added, "Well then, get together so that I can have him over already."

Derek chuckled, "I have the feeling you like him more than I do."

Mrs. Morgan cackled, "You're probably right!"

Derek spoke casually, "Well, he likes you too, really. I'll ask about the whole weekend thing."

"He'll be sleeping in the guest room, honey," his mother added.

Derek sputtered, "I—wha—no, Ma. We're not sleeping with each other—"

She sassed, "Your last dance proved otherwise. Guest room. No 'buts'."

"I'm not 'but'ing. I'm just saying. We're not involved, so there would be no need to—"

"Guest. Room." Mrs. Morgan reiterated.

Derek started to laugh, "Okay, okay. Fine. He's sleeping in the guest room."

"Good," she said mirthfully over the phone, "I want grandkids, but if they are conceived under my roof—so help me, God—I will beat your ass."

Derek paused, "Mom. Spencer and I can't even…"

His mother growled, "Don't even try to tell me that. I saw that pregnant man on the news a couple years back, and I'll be damned if that's my unmarried son."

Derek slowly gave up explaining, "Yes, Ma, you're right. I'll try not to get pregnant in your house."

Mrs. Morgan answered, "Good boy. Now, tell me about your life, son. How are you?"

Derek shrugged, "Everything hurts, my left big toenail is turning blue, and I've been lucid dreaming like a heroin addict because of how tired Spencer's making me every practice."

"Weren't you a football player? Can't you deal with the exercise?" she asked.

Derek groaned and ran a hand down his face, "It's not exercise, it's Nazism. Spencer needs arresting for what he puts me through."

His mother said with a smile he could hear through the phone, "Great. It's not exercise until you feel like you want to smack your teacher."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "I want to smack my teacher alright. Just not on the face."

She gasped, "Derek Joshua Morgan. You'd better watch your mouth. He's a nice boy."

Derek chuckled darkly, "He won't be when I'm done with him."

Mrs. Morgan warned, "If you touch that boy out of wedlock…"

"You'll beat my ass, Ma, I know," he replied with a smile.

His mother stopped and added, "Well, it's time for my hot rollers to come out. I'll see you later, baby."

Derek replied, "Bye, Mom."

She answered, "I love you. Sleep well, and don't forget to pray for yourself."

Derek smiled to himself, "I won't."

On Wednesday, Spencer sat on the floor, among piles and piles of CDs, sheet music, and pencils. Beside him was a dated ACER laptop. His hair was sloppily pulled back into a weird sort of ponytail off center on the back of his head and it had—yet another—pencil stuck into it. He seemed in deep concentration as Derek entered the studio and regarded him with a big, bright smile, holding up a steaming cup of coffee, "Derek! Come. Sit."

Derek paused, "…okay."

The tall man crouched awkwardly and sat beside the excited looking dancer whom was holding out the cup. There really were a horrifying amount of papers around him, and at a glance, Derek could tell that Spencer's handwriting was adorably crooked. It was almost childlike. Strange for one so educated.

"Okay, so I figured out what our best moves are regarding this week and its challenge," Spencer began, pencil waving in his ponytail, "Say for instance the year you choose is a sad one. We have the options of the Jazz, Contemporary, and Viennese Waltz left—which would be fantastic in and of its own if you're willing to work for it. Then, if it's happy-go-lucky, the Lindy Hop, Rumba, or the Foxtrot would be the ideal. Not very difficult, but quite jumpy. You'll need to save up some energy for those. If it's more of a successful thing, then you can grab the bull by the horns and go with a Samba. Just be careful with it, or we'll bomb-a the Samba" Spencer laughed, "Get it, I made a joke."

Derek gave Spencer a long, searching look, "Is it really that hard for you to be normal just one time?"

Spencer nodded emphatically, "Yes. Yes, it is."

Derek chuckled, "You've done a lot of homework on this."

Spencer answered, "'Homework' is my middle name. Now reveal unto me your most memorable year."

Derek let a moment pass by before glancing over at the dancer, "The year before by father died."

Spencer paused for a moment, "Oh. I'm… I'm sorry."

Derek waved it off, "Man, don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. I just remember the whole family being together, you know? My mom having him in her life. The stories he'd tell me and my sisters when he came home from work. The way he never let us go to sleep without giving us a hug and telling us he loved us. My dad was a spirited, soulful, nut job of a guy—and I worshiped him… he needs to be remembered, you know? This would be the ultimate tribute. Not to his death, but to his life. How he made me feel when he was still moseying around, not how he made he feel when he wasn't. I want this dance to be happy, because he was happy. Is this making any sense..?"

"Yeah, total," Spencer's lips quirked up as he scooched his way across the thick pile of papers to sit closely beside Derek, "Actually, it's a brilliant idea. I like it a lot."

Derek laughed and wrapped an arm around Spencer's shoulders, the dancer fitting so well against him as he replied, "You do?"

Spencer hesitated and leaned his head on Derek's shoulder, "It's beautiful."

Derek looked down to meet his eyes, but was confronted with a mess of warm, soft curls. He smiled into them, "Whoa. I actually did something right."

Spencer bumped his shoulder against Derek, "Don't get your hopes up. It's not a daily occurrence."

Derek pulled a lock of hair out of Spencer's ponytail and pushed it over the dancer's face, "Screw you, it's an hourly one."

"You wish," Spencer answered with a grin, pausing before adding, "Want to talk about yesterday? You seemed pretty upset; took off for about an hour."

Derek went still and replied, "No."

Spencer sighed and leaned his head on Derek's chest, "I was really worried."

Derek nudged him, "I just needed a minute alone. Didn't want to do something stupid. But, I ended up doing just that by leaving you there."

"Are you kidding? The bad guys were already vanquished by the time you ran off. The crowd was a little intense and it scared you, I get it. Not even Superman can handle a giant wall of judgement with eyes," Spencer nodded, "I understand. Just… let me know where you're going next time. You know? So, I don't pull my hair out."

Derek finished confusedly, "Wait, you care about me? As a person?"

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Please, as if. I just didn't want to lose my dancer in a group of people because—"

Derek grinned, "You care about me."

Spencer grimaced, "So, what? I care about you. Whatever. Don't get cocky."

Derek smiled and silence fell. It was comfortable though, not at all full and awkward. They just had nothing to say to each other. Spencer spoke softly, "I hope for a waltz this week."

Derek rested his chin on Spencer's head, "I don't. The count is wack as fuck."

Spencer let out a quiet laugh, "That's one way to put it, I guess."

Derek glanced down at the dancer in his arms, "You got the envelope? I don't feel like getting up."

Spencer sifted his hand through the papers of sheet music and produced an unopened envelope, lifting it for Derek without moving his head from his chest, "Go nuts."

Derek worked his arms around Spencer to open the note. Spencer moved closer so that Derek could use both hands beside him. "Well, kid, you must be a magician." Derek replied.

Spencer sent Derek a smile, "It's the Viennese Waltz, isn't it?"

"Yes, Houdini," Derek dropped his head down and mumbled into Spencer's hair, "It's the Viennese Waltz."

Spencer chuckled, "My favorite."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Of course, it's your favorite, weirdo."

Spencer looked up at him, "Got any song ideas?"

Derek paused and looked back down at Spencer, "Skinny Love by Bon Iver. It's my mom's favorite song. She says it reminds her of him."

Spencer let out a smile, "Bon Iver, it is."

Derek smiled easily, "Great."

Spencer snuggled his head into Derek's chest, "Now, get your ass up and start doing lunges before I scissor kick you in the throat."

A/N: Stay tuned next week to see how Derek and Spencer's little agreement works out... or doesn't.

Love,

Blue