(no subject)
“Aren’t you a bit young to be drinking?” the officer asks. It’s a justified question. Spencer doesn’t exactly look like he has three doctorates and two undergraduate degrees. He barely looks like he’s finished high school. At the moment though, he has a hard time understanding this.
“Depends on what you would describe as ‘too young’,” Spencer replies.
“Under the age of twenty-one.” The officer really isn’t impressed by now, but there’s a hint to his voice that says he’s a little amused with the situation. A lot of kids they run into in these situations tend to come up with the weirdest explanations and excuses for acting like they do.
“Did you know that in 2005, about 10.8 million persons ages twelve to twenty reported drinking alcohol in the last month. That’s about 28.2% of the age group.” These numbers may or may not actually be true, but Spencer lays them out on the table (asphalt) like any other numbers he’d put out in a sober state.
This time, Officer Grant chuckles a bit to himself, clearly a little more amused by now. This kid is really trying to avoid the topic.
“Sir, I’m going to need to see some identification,” he says as he shifts his stance slightly. What goes through Spencer’s head at first is the change in body language. After that, he registers what the officer said.
“I don’t have my ID here.” The words come out before he actually realizes that this is a fact. His hands go down to feel his pockets, and they find nothing except a cell phone. He must have left his wallet at the party. One hand goes up to push some hair out of his face, and he repeats himself. “I don’t have my ID here. I left my wallet at Emily’s house. She’s my co-worker.”
The officer pauses for a moment, and then says, “Right. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to-“
But he’s interrupted by the young-looking boy (man) on the bench.
“Wait! Derek, he- Derek can get my ID for me. He’s at the party, and he’s not drinking. He can bring my ID to me!” Almost like when they come over a break in a case, Spencer gets excited over this idea. The officer pauses for a second, again, but then nods. “Alright. Can you get in contact with him?” he asks.
Spencer nods, and pulls up his less-than-modern cell phone. He never texts, so instead he calls his colleague, Derek Morgan. The phone rings three times before he picks up. Before he even speaks, Spencer hears the music in the background. Partying like this isn’t usually the BAU’s forte, but a “why not?” turned into a night free from anything involving the office. Except perhaps co-workers.
“Pretty boy, what happened to you?” he asks, the laugh evident in his voice. He doesn’t seem too worried at least.
“Derek! Hi. I need you to come get me.”
“You’re gonna need to be more specific.” Derek seems clearly amused with the thought of Spencer not sober, especially since this is the first time since they’ve gotten to know each other that he has indigested alcohol.
“I’m.. I’m outside. On a bench, and there’s a police officer who wants to see my ID. Unfortunately, I don’t have it and I’m fairly sure that he doesn’t think I’m old enough to be intoxicated.”
“Wow, Reid,” is Derek’s response. Endlessly amused. “Give me the street names and I’ll come pick you up. Get you out of trouble,” he laughs. The music in the background seems to fade, so Derek has probably moved to some place quieter.
“Logstone Drive and Sapling Way.” The officer supplies the street names, and they say goodbye before they hang up.
The silence fills the empty space once the phone conversation is over. The scene even looks awkward, even if Reid doesn’t feel it at the moment. To him, its just silence. Either way, Officer Grants partner comes over to join the two others. The fact that Spencer is sitting down and the other two standing up makes the differences in authority quite clear.
“Did you know that police officers are 60 to 70% more likely to divorce than the general population?” Spencer offers up this piece of advice without thinking. He can’t think of any other statistics on police officers at the moment. The officers give each other a look, clearly not taking him very seriously, and by extension, not taking offense either. However, they don’t speak.
From the police car, a voice is heard over the radio, calling police cars in the area of a different part of town. Otherwise, there isn’t much noise. The wind brushing the leaves gently, a car driving down a parallel road, someone taking out the trash on the other side of the road. Spencer hums some tune to himself.
After a couple minutes, a car pulls up on the far end of the road. Spencer recognizes it immediately as Derek’s car, and he perks up about. The officers turn to face the car as it pulls up. Spencer gets up on his feet for a moment but stumbles enough that Officer Grant’s partner, Officer Monroe, pushes Spencer back to his seat on the bench.
Derek steps out of the black SUV, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, looking pretty damn authoritarian, and holds out a hand to shake with first Officer Monroe, and then Grant.
“Officers,” he addresses them both, and pulls out Spencer’s wallet from his back pocket. “Sorry about the misunderstanding, I hope this will clear things up,” he says and folds up Spencer’s wallet to show the identification. Officer Grant takes it to look through the information. He holds the ID up to Spencer, observes for a couple of moments, before seeming pleased. Well, not entirely pleased, but the identification seems legit, and there’s really nothing they can hold him for in this case.
Spencer reaches out for his wallet once the officer is finished with it, but Derek manages to grab it before Spencer does, and moves in to slide his arm under Spencer’s to help him up. It’s kind of needed.
“Thanks, man,” Derek says. He really is thankful. To be honest, had they realized Reid wasn’t just going outside for fresh air, but around the block, they wouldn’t have let him go. Sober!Reid is capable to take care of himself, but letting a drunk friend walk around an unknown neighbourhood isn’t the best idea.
“No problem, sir,” Officer Grant replies. The title fits Derek better than it does Spencer. “Just make sure your friend keeps his identification with him next time,” they add as Derek makes his way around the car with Spencer, to help him into the passenger seat. He even helps the other man buckle himself in and then comes back around, and waving a last time to the officer before jumping into the drivers seat.
Besides the smooth, soulful voice that fills the car at a low volume when Derek turns the key in the ignition, the ride to Derek’s place is quiet. Spencer’s head rests heavily against the cool window. His face feels warm and it’s kind of soothing.
The car slows down again once they’ve entered Derek’s neighbourhood. The car turns up into the driveway and the automated lights turn on because of the movement. It’s not a particularly fancy place or anything, his condo, but considering how much time he spends at the office as well as in other cities, maybe it’s a little too nice. When he’s home it fits him perfectly.
Spencer manages to unbuckle himself and even get his car door open before Derek comes around to support him on the way inside. Spencer, who was earlier just drunk, is now drunk and tired. He could probably make it inside himself, but he seems reluctant to try.
The idea is to get Spencer into the guest room, so he can just fall asleep. It’s past two in the morning and usually, they all take every chance they get to go to bed earlier than two. Just not tonight. To be honest though, Derek really tries to get him to bed.
“Come on, pretty boy,” he mutters with his arm around Spencer’s admittedly thin waist. Spencer’s arm is slung over his shoulders, and rather than just keep them side by side, Spencer leans a little too much to the side, and Derek comes around with his other arm to catch him.
Spencer doesn’t comment on the fact that Derek has both his arms around Spencer to keep him up (or that Spencer now has his other arm around Derek’s waist for no apparent reason). Instead, he says, “Did you know that Franklin D. Roosevelt, when campaigning for the presidency in 1932, pledged to end national prohibition?”
Derek smiles and shakes his head. Most of the things Spencer says that starts with “Did you know”, nobody really knows. Spencer smiles right back, for the first time in a couple of hours not looking as drunk as he is. At least, it isn’t anything Derek can see.
“Alright, lets get you to bed,” Derek says and makes a move for it, but Spencer doesn’t seem to want to. He demonstrates this by tightening his arm around Derek’s waist. Now, Spencer isn’t stronger than Derek, but he is stronger than he looks. Even if it’s not enough to keep Derek from doing anything he doesn’t want to, it’s enough to make him stop and pay attention.
“Wait,” the other man says, fingering the back of Derek’s shirt for a moment. “I’m kind of drunk,” Spencer says after another moment. His eyes shift a little, can’t find their focus, until they land on Derek’s face again. Derek looks thoroughly amused, and nods. Tries to ignore how he can feel every separate digit of Spencer’s fingers on his back.
Spencer opens his mouth to speak again, but he ends up not speaking at all. In fact, nothing comes out. His mouth opens and closes again, before he just leans in without any further ado, and kisses Derek. Right on the lips.
Well, he misses at first. So it’s more like he kisses Derek right below his lips. However, he doesn’t seem to think about this; instead, he adjusts and finds Derek’s lips. Spencer is, as mentioned, kind of drunk. This isn’t really supposed to happen but he really can’t help it, and his brilliant, genius mind says, “this is a fantastic idea!” because, really, Derek seems to be really kissable at the moment, and, well, maybe he doesn’t have to worry about the whole “I haven’t had sex with anyone” thing.
The thing is, Spencer’s mind is just as drunk as he is. And being brilliant and being drunk apparently cancel each other out. They make it through a couple seconds of kissing before Derek even has a chance to react to all of this. He pulls away, but doesn’t let go of his intoxicated friend.
“Wow! Hey, Spence, not a good idea,” he says. Derek looks anything but comfortable, but it’s not for the “wrong” reasons. Except that any reason is wrong in Spencer’s head. He doesn’t look like a kicked puppy or anything, but just frowns a little, like, ‘how can this be a bad idea?’
Derek doesn’t catch his eye, just looks down and his face feels really hot. He’s embarrassed for a reason he doesn’t even know. Maybe because he kind of likes it. But Spencer doesn’t understand, and Derek really, really isn’t into guys (except when he kind of maybe is), so it’s best if they just leave it like this. Leave it in Derek’s living room against the wall to the hallway. They don’t look at each other, because suddenly Spencer is also embarrassed (at least a little), but in the midst of the confusion of all this, Derek leads Spencer into the bedroom. Despite the fact that Derek has a guest room.
They undress on either side of the bed. Derek’s a little more coordinated, so it’s obvious who’s been drinking. Spencer has to sit down when he pulls his socks of, but it’s almost like he’s forgotten what just happened. He lays down on his back, sheets pulled up to his chin, and falls asleep almost immediately.
Derek takes his time to undress, putting all clothes but his underwear on the chair in the corner, before he slips in on the other side of the bed. The sheets feel familiar but the situation is incredibly different. He dares a glance over at Spencer whose mouth is hanging open just slightly, lips a little damp (maybe from Derek’s lips?). However, this glance provides way too much input for Derek’s brain to be able to process, right before bedtime and all. Instead of lying on his back, he shifts to his side with his back against Spencer and tries to forget about it for now. There’ll be time to think about it in the morning.