A/N: Hello, my beautifuls. Don't forget to czech out the AO3 version of this story which is now equipped with a playlist of all the songs used in Raising the Barre. The playlist will be updated on AO3 as well every time a new song is mentioned in the story! Now, you don't have to go digging for it if you get curious about the music or if you're a goober like me and want to listen along with the dancing.

Love,

Blue

Raising the Barre

CHAPTER NINE: Perfect Lips

"Five, six, seven, eight," Spencer called.

Derek raised his elbows parallel to his and Spencer's joined hands for the sixth time in a row after several failed attempts. The instructor counted off the beats and Derek followed along in his head; one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three. The two moved slowly together after Spencer's brief instruction, and Derek found this dance a lot easier than he expected. That is, until he stepped on Spencer's foot, "Oh, man! I'm so sorry."

Spencer clenched his jaw and hissed out, "Keep going, keep going."

Derek held in a laugh at the dancer's face and continued on. Spencer had been teaching him the basics of the dance for the past couple of hours. They learned the graceful bends, the rigid body form, and the short time counts. Most of the dance consisted of gliding and wide steps and dammit-Derek-what-the-hell-was-that, so all in all, it was a pain in the ass to recondition the body into dancing three count instead of four.

Spencer's foot was stepped on once more. He pulled his hands out of Derek's and placed them over his face, "Great Gatsby, that hurt!"

Derek sighed impatiently, "I'm sorry! This is just a little weird. It seems all swooshy, but it's all steppy and I'm getting a little confused here."

Spencer growled, "So, you take it out on my foot?!"

Derek raised his palms, "I'm not doing it on purpose, man. You have to know that by now. I'm just so close to getting it, I can taste it."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Derek.

Derek could barely hold back a smile at the little face and raised his hand to pinch Spencer's chin, "Aww, come on, Pretty Boy. Give me a smile."

Spencer's eyes narrowed further.

Derek tried, "Please."

Spencer didn't let up.

Derek tried again, "I'm sorry."

Spencer folded his arms and held the glare.

Derek tried a third time, "Alright, I bet I can make you laugh."

Spencer grimaced.

Derek pushed his hands out, "The Theory of Schrodinger's Cat."

Spencer's lip began to quirk up, "Don't even get me started on that load of over-publicized horse crap."

Derek prodded, "Come on. You know you want to pick it apart. Let'er rip, kid."

Spencer's lips scrunched up in an attempt to hold back his smile, "I mean the whole experiment only makes sense on paper if you squint. Boxed life, I fucking doubt it." Spencer started to grin, "I don't know. I don't know! Maybe it's because I was a Chem major and I'm like naturally biased or something. But, to me, the theory, the experiment, and the equations make me want to smack Einstien for putting his name on it. I'm going to stop myself before I start lecturing you on my hypothesis—correct hypothesis, by the way."

Derek shook his head at him, "Ooh, no need for that. Talk nerdy to me, baby."

Spencer pointed a finger at him, "Reel it in."

Derek raised his palms in surrender, "Fine."

Spencer smiled cheekily, "I love how you don't fight back anymore. It shows I've won."

Derek replied, "Resistance is futile when you bat those long eyelashes at me, kitten."

Spencer glared at him, "Shut up and take my waist."

Derek sighed with exasperation clear on his face, "I thought we were going on break at 12:15! It's 12:21!"

Spencer replied, "Five, six, seven, eight."

Derek raised his hands to take Spencer's waist and they started to take a step back on Derek's left foot and a step forward on Spencer's right. One-two-three. One-two-three. One-two-three. Spencer glanced into Derek's eyes and he turned them one-eighty, waltzing Spencer back a few feet as the plain piano music kept time for them. They moved together, one of Spencer's hands on his shoulder and the other clasped gently in his. Derek nearly stepped on Spencer's foot again, and the dancer clenched his jaw, waiting for the pain. When it didn't come, he winced and looked over at Derek, "You did-"

"Ssh, man, shut your face. I think I've got it." Derek hissed.

Spencer growled over at him as they waltzed, "Don't sass your teacher."

Derek whipped back, "Sass, sass, sassity, sass."

Spencer followed as Derek led him back two steps and the music picked up in tempo, "You sure you want to do that? I'll give you a detention."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, "Ooh, promise?"

Spencer pushed Derek faster into the waltz, "You're testing me."

Derek waltzed Spencer toward him, pulling the dancer in close and breaking the stride. Spencer stared at him as their faced were close, chests grazing, and hands clasped in their stance. They breathed into each other's faces for a moment as their eyes spoke. In that moment, Spencer's screamed out heat and lust and passion. Derek brought their faces even closer, saying loftily, "Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it, punk?"

Spencer whispered, "You'll find out."

Derek smiled a mischievous grin, "So scared."

Spencer pulled his hands from Derek's and turned in his embrace, placing a hand at his shoulder and one back in his as he fell back to be led once more across the floor. Derek guided him sternly with the music, getting out of his head and letting the moves guide him. He watched as Spencer's voice caught in his throat as the piano picked up and Derek waltzed him hard through the tune. Spencer licked his lips and started to blush as they danced in a cleaner, more crisp step. Their faces brought close and Derek kept his arm raised stiffly at Spencer's waist. Derek turned them sharply and pushed Spencer along the studio floor, spinning the dancer in his arms and pulling him close to waltz him quicker and quicker until Spencer's back hit the wall, head safely cradled in Derek's waiting hand. Their dancing ceased with the music and Spencer let out a shaky breath with his eyes locked on Derek's, "Okay, I get it. You know what you're doing."

Derek ran his hand up Spencer's chest from his waist and settled it on the side of his neck, "One could say that for many things."

"Oh?" Spencer closed his eyes and moaned out in realization, "...God."

Derek chuckled darkly, "I must be doing well."

Spencer nodded, eyes still closed, "You have a beautiful waltz, is all. It took you time to find it, but when you did..."

Derek whispered, "Fireworks."

Spencer laughed, pushing Derek away from him, "In a sense. Come on. Five more minutes and we'll go on break, I cross my heart."

Derek looked after the dancer as he walked across the floor, eyes falling south and landing on Spencer's rear that moved oh so nicely in those baggy basketball shorts that hung below his knee all loose and sexy, "Looking forward to it."

"That's not all you're looking at," Spencer replied without turning, clicking through the music library on his iPod with surety, "Pervert."

Derek whined, "How do you always know!?"

Spencer glanced over his shoulder, "I have eyes on the back of my head. Now get to center floor. I'm not asking twice."

"Whatever. You know you bought those shorts for me," Derek answered back sassily.

Spencer grinned with a knowing glance and clicked on a classical song, "Derek. I don't own shorts."

Derek glanced again at them, noticing their familiarity almost immediately. Those were the extras he packed last week. How did Spencer get hold of those? And why does Derek suddenly not care? They fit him so well, it was disgusting. They hung off of his hips, leaving nearly everything above his shin to the imagination. Their looseness showed off the curve of his rear. The pale grey of them flattered the vein running down the back of his legs. And, his calves? Christ. Smite him. Smite. Him. Derek doesn't know why but there's something about those hairy, well-sculpted calves that just... *shudder*. A shiver of arousal went through him as he breathed out, "I want those back, you know."

Spencer's grin widened, "You'll have to earn 'em."

Of course, when Spencer said five minutes, he meant thirty. But, Derek didn't mind. Since he had grasped the mechanics of the waltz so quickly, they had began to work out the kinks of the choreo, and that put Spencer in his little happy dancer world. Within minutes, he was almost completely inside himself, wrapped up in what was happening inside his head. This sometimes happens when Spencer choreographs. He gets really still and moves nothing but his foot, his eyes closed and a smile forming on his face. It's times like this that it hits him just how much Spencer loves what he does. Dancing is so deeply ingrained in every cell of him, and when he moves, it's like there's nothing else in the world he'd rather be doing. He gets these little smirks and smiles, his body curls in sync and he just goes. Then, he grabs Derek and quickly tries so emulate what he had envisioned. Sometimes it works out, sometimes Spencer sits there, bopping his head up and down like a puppy as he tugged Derek along. Dancing is so natural to him, and it's beautiful when he gets into it.

At one o'clock-ish, Derek found himself following Spencer across the room to grab his water bottle and wallet out of his duffel, he asked with a raised eyebrow, "So… are we gonna have another backstory?"

Spencer panted out of tiredness, butt raised to the sky in those damned shorts as he fished around in his bag for his giant MIT sweatshirt, "Yeah. Catch is, this time, you're writing it."

Derek gave Spencer's upturned rear a flat look, "Me?"

Spencer pulled the sweater out of his bag, balling it up and looking over at Derek with a red, sweaty face as he responded, "Yeah."

"But, I don't want to do it, Dr. Reid," Derek ran his finger down Spencer's neck and breathed into his ear, "I'll do anything to get out of homework. Anything."

Spencer pushed his hair out of his slightly red face, "I don't care, lazy ass. I need you for this. He was your dad, not mine. I won't be able to do him justice."

The two started to walk out of the studio door, and headed down the stairs. Derek complained, "I don't even understand the song yet. How am I supposed to write a backstory to it?"

Spencer said slowly as they braved the three flights, "You plug in headphones and you think really really hard until a picture comes out. Then, you tell me the picture and we'll make it work."

Derek asked, "So, I don't get a Dead Parent Pass?"

Spencer chuckled tiredly before taking a swig of his water, "No way, you're not the only one with Daddy issues."

Derek asked, "What? Did he not pay for ballet school? Get pissed when you came out or something?"

Spencer replied, "You know, he probably would have been mad at me if he didn't walk out on me and my mom before I got to tell him I was queer. And since he never paid child support, I got a scholarship to ballet school. Joffrey, actually. So, I didn't need his money anyway."

Derek's eyes widened, "Oh, my God. I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry."

Spencer waved it off with a hand as they traipsed down the steps, "Man, it's fine. You didn't know."

Derek placed his hand against Spencer's, stopping their steps, "Yeah, but I was going on and on about how great my dad was, and I didn't even think to ask. Really, it's not okay."

Spencer shrugged, "I was ten, I'm over it."

Derek added, "So was I. I'm not."

Spencer cast his eyes down, "Your father didn't want to leave you. Mine didn't see anything worth staying for, so I had no choice but to get over it. He's sleeping just fine at night, no reason I shouldn't."

Derek asked, "He's been out of your life all this time? Never made contact?"

Spencer bit his lips, "Yeah, but… I still send him tickets to all my stuff. I'm never sure, you know? Maybe one day, he'll give a shit."

Derek shook his head, "Well, he's missing out. His son became a great man without him."

Spencer pushed Derek's shoulder lightly, "Yeah, okay."

Derek smiled, "You've got three doctorates, you're a classically trained dancer featured in worldwide performances, and you've got an ass that won't quit."

Spencer started to laugh, "Shut it."

Derek grinned, "Seriously. You're kind, and patient, and selfless, and teach kids—I mean, Jesus Christ, that guy's such a fucking idiot for skipping out on the chance to watch you grow up, because I know for a fact, he'd be proud of what he sees today if he stayed."

Spencer blushed, "Wow. Thank you. Now I'm blushing."

"Sorry," Derek curled his fingers around Spencer's, "Just letting you know. You don't deserve that from anyone. Especially not him."

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ear. Nervous. He added, "I wouldn't be so certain. I'm far from a saint, Derek."

"Well," Derek shrugged, "If it makes you feel better, I damn sure ain't one either."

Spencer smiled up at Derek, "Good. Because…" Spencer started, glancing over to him with a plotting look on his face, "I'm gonna go powder my nose… you can come with... if you want."

Derek paused before laughing, "You're not really going to powder your nose, are you?"

"You're a handsome man with a sexy waltz who has just said one of the nicest things anybody's ever said to me. If you don't sully me now, you'll lose your chance." Spencer chuckled and grabbed Derek's wrist, dragging him into the second floor exit that they technically weren't supposed to enter. The two share the studio with three other dance couples. Emily and Hough are on the first floor, Tristan and Ashley Seaver were on the second floor, and Derek and Spencer claimed the top. When Derek asked why they were slipping into another dancer's section of the building, Spencer replied, "Tristan's the newbie, he doesn't have as many cameras as we do, and he owes me a favor."

Derek laughed quietly as they approached the studio door. "Whoa. Breaking and entering? Who are you?"

"Bond. James Bond," Spencer replied, suddenly gasping as they pressed their backs against the wall beside it, "Wait! The studio door's open."

Derek leaned over and glanced inside, "You're a really shitty James Bond if you didn't see this going south. I don't see anybody in there…"

Spencer let out a breath and peeked, "You never know! They could be hiding."

Derek rolled his eyes, "God, it's like you've never trespassed before."

Spencer paused, "...wait, wait. You've actually broken into a place? Like illegally?"

"Well..." Derek quieted and cleared his throat, "I kind of have a... little bit of a..." Derek rushed through the words, "Juvinilecriminalrecord."

Spencer's eyes widened.

"It's more of a rap sheet than a record, really. But it's been expunged! I'm squeaky clean in the eyes of the law," Derek explained.

Spencer whispered, "Dude. How many times have you been arrested?"

Derek sighed, "Just follow me. Quietly."

The two scrambled past the door and headed as quickly as they could to the end of the hall. Derek didn't know where the bathroom was on this floor, so he trusted Spencer to lead them to the right place after he got them past the door. The dancer opened and closed doors just enough so that he could see inside them. He opened about three or four until he found the one he was looking for. He grinned, "Got it!"

Derek glanced inside, "It's pink. This is the ladies' room."

Spencer tugged him into the room, "Bigger chance no one's watching it! Come on."

Derek allowed himself to be pulled in by Spencer's tiny fists as he closed the door whisper quiet, he asked, "Do you have a pipe cleaner, roll of tape, or ballet flat?"

Spencer asked confusedly, "What for?"

Derek rolled his eyes and held out his hand, "You'll see. Give me your jazz shoe out of your bag. That'll do."

Spencer took a step back, "What are you going to do with it?"

Derek reached forward, unzipped Spencer's back and rifled through it until he found the shoe. He tested it momentarily for its flexibility, and after finding it agreeable, folded it in half and shoved it under the door close to the hinge. Next, he pulled his black tee shirt over his head and padded it under the crack between the door and the floor. Derek leaned back as he stood in his white tank top and admired his handiwork, "Perfect."

Spencer blinked, "What did you just do?"

Derek shrugged, "The shoe balled up close to the bottom hinge of the door provides enough frictional force, so should the door be pushed on from the opposite side, it won't move. And my shirt will block the light, so shadows, movement, basically all visual presence of occupation is vaporized."

Spencer locked eyes with Derek as he dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor, "I'm suddenly really scared of you, but at the same time, I'm insanely turned on."

"Good," Derek grinned and the two stumbled their way into the handicapped stall. Spencer locked it and Derek looked at him, clapping his hands once, "Alright! Let's do this thing!"

Spencer nodded, taking a shaky breath and releasing it sharply as he leaned against the door, "I'm about to kiss you. All over your face. Get ready."

Derek agreed, "I'm ready."

Spencer added, "Is tongue okay? Some people don't like it."

Derek completed, "I do."

Spencer said, "Good, because I really enjoy it, you know? It's fun and safe, but it can be kind of dirty if you play your cards right."

Derek grinned evilly, "And I want to play your cards. All night."

Spencer paused, "... that made no sense."

Derek rolled his eyes, "It was a euphemism for sex."

Spencer inducted, "Oh! Right. Of course. Because you want me."

"Like crazy," Derek replied.

Spencer breathed, "And I want you too. So bad. I want you so bad. Oh, God. Kinda getting nervous here."

Derek blinked, "Maybe you're nervous because all of your worried chatting is making this awkward as fuck."

"It's not awkward," Spencer said, getting closer, "You just have to like…" Spencer made a weird motion with his hands, "Grab me."

Derek growled, "Why am I making the first move?"

Spencer hissed back, "Because you're the one who came up with this crazy ass deal in the first place! Now kiss me!"

Derek drew him against the pink plastic door, "Calm down, Spencer! I'm kissing you, okay?! God, give me a second."

Spencer tossed his hands in the air, "Well, finally!"

Derek pulled him close and pressed against Spencer's lithe, sweaty body, his nose bumping Spencer's as he looked into his eyes. You know what? It ain't that awkward. The hesitation is kind of a turn on now that he's thinking about it. He just doesn't really know what to touch first. Derek wants to touch everything, and he means everything. Yet, he doesn't need to go too far. What he wants is for this to be intense. Passionate. Sexy. He wants to give Spencer the time of his life, but, still leave him begging for more. Derek wants to wreck the dancer, having him panting and hard and aroused as all fuck, but he doesn't want him to tip over the edge. Derek doesn't want to give his all. Not yet. He just wants to give Spencer a taste—a bite of that poison apple. Derek slowly made up his mind, taking hold of the bottom of Spencer's thigh, covered in the slick material of his shorts, "Okay, could you… fit your leg like this?"

"Like that?" Spencer moved his leg up and hooked it around Derek's waist.

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Yeah. Wow, that's impressively high."

"Danke," Spencer blushed and glanced downward, "Oh. That… actually looks pretty hot."

Derek stepped into him and their foreheads touched, "Thanks. Alright. I'm going to do it. You ready?"

Spencer said breathlessly, eyes on Derek's, "…yeah."

He leaned in and their lips came to a soft, hesitant touch that felt like a first kiss. So innocent, so sweet. Spencer let out a moan against his lips and brought his hands to grasp the sides of Derek's face. Derek stepped in closer, pressing their chests together as their lips collided in a trio of soft kisses.

Derek smiled through the kisses as his chest started to grow tight with nerves, "Last chance to back out, kid."

"Why... on earth would I do such a stupid thing like that," Spencer answered, leaning over to kiss Derek's lips sweetly. "I am exactly where I want to be." Here, in this bathroom, Derek finally has him. Spencer. Scrappy, and athletic, and sweet. He can't let this go, this feeling of completion he gets when they're close. And when they kissed... one could say sparks flew. Spencer's hands came up to pull Derek in closer by the back of his neck and the two pressed together closer and closer. Derek's heart was beating so quickly against his chest that he could feel it hammering off of Spencer's. The kiss deepened slowly as they wrapped themselves into the feeling. It feels like Derek's been holding his breath for weeks and finally, in this kiss, he can exhale. The tension is gone, the need is no longer pulsing through his veins, and now he can just enjoy it. He can enjoy Spencer.

Spencer let out a moan against his lips and pushed him back for a moment. Derek glanced at him through hooded eyes, "What… am I doing something wrong?"

"No," Spencer replied breathlessly, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and pulling him down harshly for another kiss before whispering out, "This is just… incredible."

Derek let out a smirk, "That's what all the girls say."

"You're such an ass!" Spencer's head fell back against the stall door as he laughed out, "Why are these perfect lips attached to you?"

Derek winked, "Just wait until they go south, baby. They'll be better than perfect."

Spencer bit his lip and closed his eyes, "Good answer. Very good answer."

"Yeah?" Derek replied.

"Yeah, A+. Come here," Spencer nodded quickly, pulling him down again for a kiss, "So perfect," Spencer kissed his lips again and again and as Derek skirted his hand up Spencer's thigh. Spencer moaned into Derek, mashing their lips together twice as he breathed against them. Derek gave Spencer's lower lip a little bite and let out an aroused gasp at Spencer's tongue as it found its way into his mouth. He wrapped Spencer in his arms and pulled him close, feeling Spencer's hands move up to clutch at the back of Derek's smooth skull as they angled their heads and mouths to accommodate the furious tangling of their mouths. Christ, it felt amazing. Spencer was very good with his tongue, very good indeed. And that put so many dirty thoughts in Derek's mind that he feared it would never be clean again. Derek pulled the dancer's leg tighter around his waist, rubbing their hips together in a torturous slide and he could feel Spencer getting hard. Spencer keened out breathlessly, "Yeah, like that." Derek kissed him hard and obliged. Spencer let out another moan, whispering harshly, "My neck, Derek, kiss my neck. The—the right side—is more—more erogenous than the left. Please. Please do it. Don't make me beg."

Derek grinned, finally allowing himself to run his tongue along Spencer's skin for the first time. Spencer panted out his name so sweetly. He tasted like sweat and heat and sex. Perfect. The dancer was delightfully enthusiastic as Derek's beard ran against his throat. He clutched at Derek's shoulders and groaned out as Derek grabbed at his thighs, hooking the other leg around his waist so that Spencer was straddling him and at that, he pressed Spencer roughly into the door. It shook with the contact and Derek devoured the dancer's neck as if it was water in a desert. "Oh!" Spencer hissed out between his teeth, breathing heavily. He pushed Derek's face back up to his, kissing him roughly with lips full of pure testosterone, touching him hard, the way a woman never could.

Every time Derek ran his hands down his body, he'd blush. When his sharp jaw was kissed, he'd let out a deep keen. When Derek pushes his hands under Spencer's shirt, Spencer bites whatever lip is closest. They wrapped up into each other easily, simply. A hurry to finish, a frantic rush to orgasm. They just wanted to meld together as quickly as they could in the little moments they could steal, express all of the emotions they refused to show, kiss out all the words that they wouldn't say.

What killed Derek was that it meant nothing—to Spencer anyway. The poor kid was just riled up, and in need of release. And Derek was so gone on him, that he allowed it to happen. Whatever he can give Spencer, be it love, sex, or a shoulder to lean on, he'd give it. Whatever Spencer needed, Derek would be. So, if the dancer wanted to kiss him, Derek's lips were there and ready for him. If Spencer wanted to yell at someone, Derek would listen and take it. If Spencer needed to jump, Derek would catch him.

He pushed this and every other feeling he had into this kisses that they shared. He wrapped his arms around Spencer and held him as close as he could. They kissed and they kissed with so much passion, that Derek wanted every second to mean the world even though he knew that it didn't. Spencer just wanted sex, and well… Derek's just going to have to make sure their sex so fucking good that Spencer will never be able to get it anywhere else.

Spencer gripped Derek's tank top in his fists as he breathed a desperate sigh against his lips, "Oh, my God. Derek. Yes."

As far as he was concerned, no one will ever hold Spencer and kiss Spencer and make love to Spencer the way Derek did.

When the kid sees that, that's when Derek will truly have a chance. Derek's not just a tall, built hunk of man to just feel all over. Well, at this moment in time he was, but… shut up. Derek's got this. He has a plan. And as Spencer moaned against him once more, Derek ran his hands possessively down his body. Yeah. They're never going to be able to have sex in this tiny little stall. It can wait. But, for now...

"Harder... yeah..." Spencer panted as Derek shoved a hand between them and then pulled it away, "Why did you stop, jerk?! I was really into that!"

Derek grinned as Spencer smacked his chest playfully. Might as well tease the shit out of him.

Several nights later, a Friday, led Derek to stand with his hands in his pockets outside of Café Audrey. His and Spencer's moment together found them calling Tristan's bathroom their "Own Private Idaho". For the past few days, they would meet there on their break. They would kiss and hold each other and whisper soft words to each other, wrapped up in each other's embraces. They never ended up having sex, the two frustrated bastards couldn't made it past second base in that little stall, to be honest. But they loved every second of it. Toward the end, when their breaks have grown long, they get a little into it—nearly forgoing lunch to spend more time together.

But, for now, Penelope has asked him out for late night coffee again, and he fully intended to make good on it this time. She also mentioned bringing Emily over as well, which was fine with him. The night chill had set in, around seventy degrees. Where this would be glorified weather in his hometown, Derek found himself spoiled by the constant California heat. He'd keep the windows open in his hotel, the warm breeze floating in and wrapping him up like a toasty, dryer-fresh blanket. He knows he'll miss it when he moves back to rainy ol' Chicago, but, Illinois has his mom and his sisters and his dog and… that's about it. He doesn't have a girlfriend. He doesn't have a job. Hell, he doesn't even have a lease—he rents his condo. His family, he visits anyway. It wouldn't really matter to him visiting from a few cities away, or a few states.

Fuck.

This is it.

It's happening.

He's having a mid-life crisis.

Derek knew it would happen sooner or later and here it is. Moving to California? Come on, man, that's stupid. What's next? Waxing his chest, buying a Ducati, and waving flags in a San Francisco parade? He really fucking needs this coffee.

Derek's phone buzzed at his hip and he pulled it out of his pocket. He unlocked it and saw a little picture of his sister, Desiree. Notification. He read the text.

[i gotta question for ya lil bro she had sent.]

[Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. wut do u want desi]

Moments later his phone buzzed. [john proposed and hes looking for a best man. could u…]

Derek's eyes widened. [wait wait wait johnny PROPOSED!? youre getting MARRIED and you tell me through a text?!1?! i feel neglected as fuck]

[best man derek. we need one]

Derek hissed and typed back. [duh I'll do it i love dat dude. he treats u right, makes a mean omelet, and he lets me win at Mario kart. welcum to the family.]

She sent back [ur disgustingly easy to please]

Derek chuckled. [funny. ur boyfriend sed that about me 2]

[…]

[im just kiddin dez come on]

[…]

[I didn't fuck ur boyfriend I swear]

[…]

[well not this one. bruce was obviously flaming & rasheed offered]

[U SCREWED RASHEED?!11!?1!]

[oh wow look at the time]

[DEREK IM GONNA KILL U]

[i g2g byeeee]

Derek chuckled to himself and slipped the phone into his pocket. He didn't do a damned thing to Rasheed. Doesn't mean the guy didn't ask for it, though. He was one of those hero worship dudes who would do anything for their favorite baller. Including offering to blow him for an autograph. Derek gave him the autograph anyway. Getting your dick sucked by a straight guy is not as fun as porn makes it out to be. All you feel is regret and tooth marks.

Hearing a voice call from down the street, Derek lifted his head and watched as the bubbly Penelope dragged along the dark haired goth. They had several bags in their hands as they approached him, and Derek replied, "I was standing here for twenty minutes waiting for you two."

Emily replied with a black lipped smile, "We were going to be on time, but then shoes happened."

Penelope grinned, "There's a boutique down the street and they were having a crazy sale on kitten heels. Total score."

Derek blinked, "Kitten heels?"

Penelope explained, "They're like small pumps."

Derek made a face, "You mean the shit that puts air in your tires?"

Emily laughed, "Oh, goodness."

Derek sighed, "I'm confused and uncomfortable."

Penelope reached in a bag and pulled out a box, opening it to reveal two pink, shiny formal shoes with a small heel on the end and a bow at the top, "See? Kitten heels."

Derek glanced over it, "I don't see any kittens."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Men."

Derek sputtered, "Men?! Women are the weird ones. How do you even spend forty minutes in a store?"

Penelope gasped, "How could you not?"

Derek shrugged, "Easy. Order online."

Penelope paused, "Oh. Well…"

"Yeah," Derek complained, "Now, let's stop talking about shoes before I grow boobs."

Emily glanced down at Derek's feet as they walked into the café, "Well, you have nice shoes on. You have no room to talk."

Derek raised his eyebrows, "They're not shoes, they're sneaks. And yeah, I know how bomb these are. They're vintage Jordans. Cost an arm and a leg."

The two walked over to a table and sat down, Penelope planting herself beside Derek while Emily took the seat in front of them. Penelope replied, "So, you can't judge."

Derek chuckled, "I totally can. These are masterpieces, totally different from that frilly shit. Those things on your feet—those heels—are glittery Chinese water torture."

Emily laughed, "But, they're cute."

Derek shrugged, "On some. I prefer a girl dressed down. Nothing like a woman wearing a tank and yoga pants. Mmm."

Penelope nodded, "Yoga pants, huh? You're a butt guy?"

Derek let out a laugh, "Oh, hell yeah. All day, every day. How about y'all? What on a guy makes you poor women come running?"

Emily replied, "The eyes. I'm a sucker for a man with really nice eyes."

Derek winked, "Do I have nice eyes?"

She giggled, "Yeah. They're okay."

Derek licked his lips with a flirty smile, "Oh, alright. I see. I see."

Emily shook her head, "No offense, but Doc's eyes are way cuter."

Derek paused, a sinking feeling erupting in his chest. Yeah, so what? Spencer had cute eyes. It's not up to her to judge. He asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Emily answered, "It means that he has cute eyes. He's a nice looking boy, you have to admit."

Derek narrowed his eyes, "Yeah, so?"

Emily started back at him, "Why so defensive Derek?"

"He's probably offended by the lack of attention," Penelope explained with a giggle, pinching Derek's cheek briefly, "Doc having nice eyes doesn't mean you're any less handsome, Chocolate Thunder."

Derek shrugged that off, "Oh, I don't need her to tell me I look good. I'm just wondering why Spencer came up in conversation."

"Eww," Emily gave Penelope a funny look, "Why do you call him 'Spencer'?"

Derek replied, "That's his name."

Penelope added, "It's kind of weird."

Derek rolled his eyes, "He doesn't mind."

"Of course he doesn't," Penelope and Emily began to giggle girlishly.

Derek looked around confusedly. The waiter came to take their order and stopped at the table, "Hello, my name is Nathan, I'll be your server today and—oh, my God. You're Emily Prentiss."

She raised her hand, "Born and raised, kid. Can I get a White Russian? I'm in the mood for some kick. Hold the olives."

He gulped and pulled at his uniform tie, "Y-yeah, Emily Prentiss. Whatever you want."

Penelope raised her hand, "I'll take a virgin strawberry daiquiri."

Derek added, "And I'll have an Americano black."

The waiter cleared his throat nervously, nodding and writing their orders down before looking up at Emily adoringly, "Would it be too much to ask you to sign this order sheet for me?"

Emily laughed and held out her hand, "Hand it over, Nate."

The waiter blanched and breathed out as he ripped out the sheet and gave it to her, "Y-you called me Nate."

Emily placed the paper on the table and pulled a pen out of her purse, "Sure did."

The waiter began to laugh nervously, "Oh, my God."

As she uncapped the pen and scribbled on the paper, he added, "I've been listening to your music since I was in high school. 'Fuck the Government' got me through my midterms this semester at UCLA and your newest CD is just… wow. Brilliant. I love your band. Like, really. I love your band. I got my girlfriend into you guys, and she loves you guys too. It's just—"

Emily finished her signature and smiled up at him with a huge grin, "Thanks, kid. Wanna know a secret?"

Nathan nodded his blonde head, mouth opening and near closing with adoration, "Anything, Emily Prentiss."

Emily leaned closer to him, "I wrote 'Fuck the Government' on a napkin while drunk at the bar two blocks from here back in '07."

The waiter's eyes widened, "No way."

She winked, "And I'm really, really… really craving a White Russian right now," she paused and gave Server Nathan a look over, "Your surname wouldn't happen to be Krushnic, would it?"

"Did you just hit on me?"

Emily gave him an unreadable stare, "Maybe I did."

Nathan laughed nervously, "Your order! I'm so sorry." Nathan grinned and raised the paper as she handed it to him, "Coming right up, Emily Prentiss. I love you."

Emily replied as he scurried off, "I know."

Penelope nudged her, "Well handled. You made him feel special, satisfied his desires, and got him out of your face in under two minutes. I should have taken notes."

Derek leaned back in his seat, "I know, right? Usually, I'm held up for at least five. At least he didn't want any pictures."

Emily smiled widely, "Yes, he did. He just got one from between the kitchen doors… now he's taking a selfie, trying to get both of us in the same frame."

Penelope laughed and glanced over at the kitchen, "Oh, my God. Now he's showing the cooks."

Derek looked over his shoulder, "Kids are hilarious."

Penelope gave Derek a flat look, "Oh, don't exclude yourself from the human race. How would you react if you met Beyoncé in a bar?"

Derek added, "I'd be very smooth and polite and she'd remember the shit out of me."

Emily laughed, "Yeah, because your face is plastered all over the news for doing the world's sexiest tango with the Prince of Ballroom."

Derek grimaced, "So what? Yeah, I did a little dude-on-dude action. Beyoncé would think it was hot."

"Would her husband?" Penelope giggled and pushed at Derek's shoulder from across the table.

Derek shrugged, "I don't give a fuck. Jay Z can get it too."

Emily laughed aloud, "You're funny. I like you."

Derek let out a big grin, "I like you too. When our drinks get here, we'll toast!"

Penelope added, "Sounds great!"

Minutes later, their drinks arrived and the three newfound friends chatted about the competition. Away from the ballroom, Emily was really a cool girl. Penelope and her got along famously, and had planned a shopping trip before the coffee date and they enjoyed each other's company so much that they planned another right there at the table. Derek was asked to join in and he declined. No fucking way he's signing up for hours in a boutique with two women. No matter how wonderful they are at coffee.

Derek asked Penelope how Gleb was doing, and she swooned over his muscles for about four minutes straight. He next asked Emily about Hough and she rolled her eyes, replying, "He's a major hard ass. Seriously. I don't know how he dances so well with that stick lodged up there."

Penelope and Derek laughed.

She joked, "It's taken up private residence in his colon, man, I swear."

Penelope chuckled, "Well, Gleb's incredible. All he has to do is smile, and I'll dance him to the moon. I don't understand your plight."

Emily's eyebrows quirked and she looked over at Derek, "How's Spencer? Is he insane too?"

Derek felt his face heat up at the mention of Spencer's name. Now he knows how weird it sounds when he uses it in public. It just sounds so… intimate. He replied, "Insane? He passed insane two weeks ago. I call him Kim Jong Il behind his back."

The girls broke into laughter and Emily added, "Oh, my God. You're kidding."

Derek snickered, "Nope. Ask my mom."

Penelope grinned, "Yeah, he's crazy about dance, but he's a lot easier to deal with away from the studio floor, right?"

Derek nodded, "By oceans. He's just really passionate about the art of it all, you know? It must be difficult teaching some newbie what he's spent years perfecting because of how much he loves it. God, you should see him sometimes when he's choreographing something. It's like he's in his own little world, and... it's like nothing could ever bother him. Like dancing is just as much a part of him as his left arm. I respect the shit out of him, and that's probably why he walks all over me like I have a Welcome Mat on my forehead. But, I don't mind. I really don't. All he has to do is ask and I'm doing whatever it is he wants. It's… why are you two staring at me like that?"

Penelope shook her head, "Look at him, Em. It's almost sad."

Emily replied, "There has to be some sort of charity we can give to that helps guys like him."

Derek blinked, "What are you talking about?"

Penelope raised her hands to the sky, "It's not up to us to tell."

Derek took a sip of his coffee and shrugged, slowly running out of fucks to give, "I have something on my face, don't I?"

Penelope added, "Something like that."

As the coffee date ended, the three stood outside the shop. Penelope walked a few feet away to hail a cab and left the goth singer and the football player to make small talk about the weather. That lasted a few mere seconds before Emily leaned into Derek, asking, "So… is Doc available?"

Derek snapped his head over to her, "Available how?"

"Like… single available," She shrugged, face growing a bit red, "I don't know. He's a nice guy. Cute, funny, speaks Russian. God, I mean… I just wanted to know if it was hopeless."

Derek clenched his jaw, "It's hopeless."

Emily asked, "Is he married?"

Derek shook his head, "No."

Emily inquired, "Is he dating anyone?"

Derek grimaced, "Not technically."

Emily gasped and replied, "Oh, so there is someone?"

Derek sighed, eyes darting away from hers, "…not technically."

Emily folded her arms, "You are giving me seriously mixed up messages, dude. Is there a girl in the picture, or not?"

Derek replied, "There's not a girl in the picture, no."

Emily wrinkled her brow, "So, there's a man?"

Derek sighed, "You are putting a lot of pressure on me, okay, lady?"

She asked, "How?"

Derek spilled quickly, "He's in a no-strings thing, okay? And that man wants more, but since Spencer doesn't, he's pretending to be content with the current arrangement. So, technically, you have no competition, but in the eyes on the other man, you do. Does that make sense?"

Emily chuckled, "God damn are you into him."

Derek groaned, "You weren't interested this whole time, were you?"

She made a face, "Heck naw. Doc? Eww, man. Just… eww. Not my type. I've been digging at you all night to see if the whole Team Moreid thing was real. Seems like it is."

Derek sighed, "Not—"

"Technically?" Emily finished with a giggle, "Man, technically, you two are so into each other, it's disgusting. No strings? Seriously? What is this, University?"

Derek added, "Spencer thought it was a great idea."

Emily shrugged, "So did my ex no-strings-thing, before we got in a fight and he stabbed me."

Derek blinked rapidly, "D-did you say he stabbed you?"

Emily replied, "What? You act like I didn't stab him back."

Derek gave a concerned face, "You two stabbed each other?"

"Ian was such a fucking asshole. He had it coming." Emily answered, "Couldn't express his feelings like a real man."

Derek never expressed his feelings because he was so afraid of how it would turn out, and Spencer needed pliers and duct taped limbs to admit that his partner doesn't suck completely. But Spencer would never stab him… would he? Derek stared off past her, "…fuck."

A/N: This is me apologizing for the feels that are coming next week. It's going to be sad. Real sad. I'm so sorry that I'm apologizing in advance.

Love,

Blue

P.S. I just found out that this story was nominated for a Profiler's Choice Award in the category of Best Crossover and I'm speechless. Like wow. Thanks. Seriously. I've been following them for a decent bit, and this is just the best news ever. I'm flailing you guise. For realsies. Whichever one of you cute lil fuckers nominated me, c'mere. You've just earned yourself a suffocating boob hug. And all of you that keep reading and reviewing with me every week, y'all get boob hugs too. It's just a boob hug love fest up in this bitch, alright?

On a more serious note, I am so happy and so honored and so blessed, and I just love y'all so much. I'm super grateful for all of the support. Seeing your reviews every week makes my day, and I'm doing this all for you, you know? I spent all that time off of this site working my butt off so that I could give you this little keysmash piece of shit and you guys just hugged me and told me it was worth the wait, so yeah. Thank you. This is for you guys, dolls, and everything in between.

If you will excuse me, I'm off to celebrate with ice cream and strippers. *salute*

NOW, IT'S TIME TO VOTE ME UP, YOU SEXY PROFILING SONS OF BITCHES! THIS IS THE BIG LEAGUES, MAN! THUG LIFE! RIDE OR DIE! WHAT TEAM?! WILDCATS! WHAT TEAM?! WILDCATS! WHAT TEAM?! BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS WILDCATS! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!