The Best Luck I Ever Had (3/4)
Title: The Best Luck I Ever Had
Authors: blueraccoon & sandersyager
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing/character: Derek Morgan/OMC, hints of Spencer Reid/OMC
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Word Count: 26,717
Kink: first time, dirty talk, mild hand fetish, handjobs, oral sex
Warnings: sex between two consenting adult males; references to past relationship and child abuse and domestic violence
Summary: It's been a very long time since Derek Morgan's had someone in his life long enough to meet his friends and even longer since anyone's taken him home to meet their mother. When he meets Christian Godfrey, he gets all that and the bonus of a small white cat with more attitude than Garcia.
Notes & Cautions: We don't even pretend to like David Rossi (I'd feel bad for Rossi, but really, he's an asshole.-blueraccoon). We are also fully aware that several of the characters also appear in Blueraccoon's Geometry series and our joint project, Ranks of the Freaks; please forget what you know from those universes because this is an AU of an AU of an AU in which neither of those universes ever existed. kelly_girl, bookgodess15, henchgirl, and lillian13 poked holes in the plot, prodded us to keep writing and pointed out mistakes. We love them for it more than words can say.
Artist: sylum_tru made us a truly kickass banner and solved our (years long) issue of trying to cast Christian.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Single post (Redirects to Dreamwidth)
* * *
Derek gets back to Virginia on Monday, has just enough time to unpack before his phone rings and then it's off to Arizona. He doesn't get a chance to call Christian, and maybe it's for the best. The lag and then the awkwardness of the lag force him to get creative instead of just making small talk, and after a week he gives in and sends him a package with a specialty blend black cherry white tea and chocolate covered cherries. Then he waits.
The package makes him smile, and Christian brews a cup of the tea before picking up his phone to call Derek. He'd almost given up on hearing back from him, and it's nice to be surprised. As the phone rings, he wonders if Derek's even in DC this week.
"I missed you," Derek says in lieu of hello when he answers. It's not what he planned, but it comes out before he can stop it, and it's true.
"Now that's a way to answer the phone," Christian says. "I missed you too, handsome."
Derek smiles, stretching out on his couch for the first time in way too long. "Did you get the bribe?"
"I did," Christian says. "I'm making the tea right now. I don't know how it tastes but it smells lovely. Why are you bribing me?"
"So you'll come over and let me make you dinner sometime this week," Derek says. "Like maybe tonight?"
"Tonight would be good," Christian says. "It's about my only free night this week, really. Do you need directions?"
"I wanted you to come to me," Derek says. "I don't think my apartment will let me leave."
"Right, right, you said that. Sorry, I'm a little distracted." Christian rakes a hand through his curls and looks around at the piles of music around him. "Are you near the Metro or something? I haven't got a car."
"Yeah," Derek says and gives him the directions, getting up to wander around the apartment and note what needs to be cleaned before Christian's allowed in. "You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm going to have to run out to the store but otherwise I'll be here."
"Okay," Christian says. "I'll be there as soon as the Metro will let me."
"Take your time, at least finish your tea," Derek says, grinning. "And, uh, if you want to spend the night, I really wouldn't have a problem with that."
"I'll keep that in mind," Christian says, smiling. "I'll see you soon, Derek."
"See you soon," Derek echoes before hanging up the phone.
Christian does end up finishing his tea, which is quite good, and making sure Mimi has a clean litter box and food and water before he heads out. The Metro takes him less time than he'd worried about, and Derek's directions are straightforward, so it's not too much longer before he's buzzing up.
Derek's just putting away the last of the groceries when the buzzer goes off and he takes a quick look at the screen from the security camera before letting Christian up. He leaves the door open and goes back to the kitchen, trusting him to find his way inside.
"Hello the house," Christian calls, shutting the door after him. He looks around, liking the space. It's bigger than his apartment, which isn't a surprise, and neat without being Spartan.
"Second doorway, Christian," Derek calls from the kitchen. "Living room's to your left, dining room's the first doorway."
"Nice place," Christian says, finding Derek in the kitchen. "And the decor's not bad either." He winks at Derek. "Hey, handsome."
Derek smiles, stepping around the small island to hug Christian. "Hi, cutie," he says, kissing his cheek.
"That's all I get?" Christian asks with a mock-pout. "I was expecting a proper hello kiss."
"I was just getting started," Derek says, lips touching Christian's cheek again lightly as he kisses his way to Christian's mouth.
Christian makes a soft sound, returning the kiss, his lips parting for Derek. His own arms go around Derek's waist and he holds him close.
It's too easy to get lost in kissing Christian, and Derek lets himself for a while, fingers carding through Christian's curls and tongues sliding together. He finally pulls away when he can't stand the counter digging into his hip any more, and even then it's just enough to speak. "There are better places for this."
"There are," Christian says, nuzzling Derek's jaw. "You wanna find one?"
"Yeah, I do," Derek says. "Couch or bed?"
"Bed," Christian says, smiling a little.
"Okay." Derek nods, placing his hands flat against Christian's chest and forcing himself to take a half step back. "I'd ask if you wanted something to drink, but we're way past that point."
"I think we are, yes," Christian agrees. "Although you are going to feed me at some point."
"I am," Derek says, trusting Christian to follow him out of the kitchen and into the hall. "The guest room's in here, guest bath, office." He taps each door as they pass it, and finally opens the one to his bedroom. The bed's neatly made, the blankets folded at the bottom, and the curtains are drawn back so light comes through the sheer under layer.
"I think my entire place could fit in your living room and dining room," Christian says, looking around.
"I know it's too much space, but I figure I own the building so I can have the nicest unit," Derek says with a shrug.
"I'm definitely impressed," Christian says. "I should not show you my place. You'd be horrified." He grins.
"I doubt it," Derek says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I spent a year and a half living in a place half the size of my closet. It was this crappy little studio, just enough room for a twin bed and I could stretch my arms out and reach all four walls."
"Mine's not quite that bad," Christian says, sitting next to him. "I have a loft. Bedroom and laundry upstairs, bath, kitchen. living-slash-dining-slash-music area downstairs."
"You'll have to invite me over some time so I can see it," Derek says, resting one hand against Christian's back as he turns slightly and the other on his knee. "How was the tea?"
"Lovely, thank you," Christian says. "Very light." He leans into Derek.
"You're welcome. The last day we were in Arizona, near Phoenix, I found this little tea shop and the owner recommended it," Derek says. He kisses Christian's temple. "I kept thinking about you but there was never time to call."
"It's okay," Christian says. "I've been pretty busy the last few days as it is."
"What have you been doing?" Derek asks, taking the time to really look at Christian now that they've slowed down a little. He's just as cute as he remembered, maybe more so.
"This and that," Christian says. "Nothing that exciting. Some publicity for the new CD, rehearsal, booking performances for our tour, all that fun stuff."
"More of the glamorous rock star life," Derek says with a smile.
"Is that what they call it these days?" Christian asks, laughing. "We're leaving on a tour to promote the CD in about six weeks."
"I bet you'll love that, getting to perform night after night," Derek says, moving away to turn and sit back against the pillows piled at the headboard. "How many shows are you going to do?"
"Thirty so far," Christian says. "We'll be on the road for about six weeks."
"You'll have to let me know when you're playing around here," Derek says. "Come here." He pats the space between his outstretched legs.
"I will," Christian says, moving to settle between Derek's legs, leaning back against him. "I can get you tickets if you want."
"I'd like that," Derek says, wrapping his arms around Christian and resting his chin on his shoulder. "I like having you here now, too."
Christian smiles and turns to kiss Derek on the cheek. "I like being here now," he says.
Derek stretches to kiss him back, seeking and finding his mouth, gently licking his way inside.
Christian rests his hands on Derek's thighs, fingers flexing against his pants. Derek's gentle with him, careful, and Christian thinks he likes it. It's a definite change from his sex life lately--what little there's been of it.
One kiss moves into another and another, bodies shifting to make the angle easier and Derek slips one hand under Christian's shirt. He's decided he loves the piercings and the effect they have on Christian, and he plays with them a little as his mouth moves along the side of Christian's neck.
"Derek," Christian says huskily, squirming under his touch. "I'm--oh, gods, that's--it's too much--" His head falls back and he whines.
Derek backs off, sliding his hand down Christian's stomach. "I love hearing you like this," he murmurs, his other hand running over Christian's back. "We can slow down if you need to."
Christian takes a deep breath but shakes his head. "No," he says. "No, it's okay, I'm just not used to it. These are still pretty new."
"I'll come back to them later," Derek says, placing a kiss just behind the hinge of Christian's jaw. "You aren't used to this are you?" He doesn't know why he says it, it's just a feeling he's gotten when they've been together, and it makes him wonder what kind of men Christian's been dating.
"Used to what?" Christian asks. "Someone playing with my piercings? No, not really."
"Someone wanting it be good for you," Derek says. "Taking their time, backing off when you need it, being tender."
Christian smiles faintly. "Honey, I've had sex twice in the last year and both times it was a pretty quick one-night stand that didn't go for much beyond the 'where's the condom'."
Derek's arms tighten around him almost reflexively and he kisses Christian's cheek. "I don't do that, ever," he says. "And I think I want to keep you around a lot longer than a couple of nights, make sure you're treated right."
"Yeah?" Christian asks, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. "That's good to know. I think I want to stick around."
"Then it's settled," Derek says, smoothing the back of his hand along Christian's side. "That's what I want today, you know, to take my time with you and make sure everything feels good."
"Okay," Christian says, leaning up to kiss him. "I want to make sure it feels good for you, too, you know."
"I know. Let me spoil you for a little while," Derek says, hands settling against Christian's belly again. "I've had two weeks to think about all the ways I want you, and I think if you really touched me now, it'd be over before we got started."
"If that's what you want, I'm all yours," Christian says. "Tell me how you want me."
Derek smiles, knowing it's a very long list. There's just not much to do in a town that closes at sunset with a case that's most deadly ends. "Let's start with you taking your shirt off."
"You have simple tastes," Christian says, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside.
"I told you, I like sex simple," Derek says, stopping Christian from leaning back with palms against his shoulder blades. He leans forward and kisses the back of his neck, scratching lightly down his back. "Simple but intense."
Christian shivers and arches under Derek's hands. "Intense is good," he says.
"Memory has nothing on reality," Derek says, mostly to himself, as he continues touching Christian, slowly exploring his skin. He gradually adds Christian's arms to the places his fingers brush or scratch or stroke, and threads their fingers together for a moment.
Christian closes his hands, trapping Derek's briefly. "Feels good," he murmurs. "I like being touched like this."
Derek folds their arms together across Christian's body, placing kisses along the line of Christian's shoulders. "Thank you for letting me," he murmurs back, knowing it can take a lot more to give this kind of patience to someone, to be exposed like this.
His hand brushes over the scar on his ribs and Christian moves his arm slightly, loosening his hold on Derek's hands. "Tell me what you want now," he says. "Talk to me."
"I want you to relax and let me keep doing this," Derek says, fingers moving under Christian's hands to drift over his stomach and along the inside of his arms. "I want this to build a little longer while we're able to just feel the places we're touching and the ones where we aren't." He moves his hands lower, running over Christian's hips where his jeans separate skin from skin.
Christian closes his eyes, letting Derek touch him. Derek's hands are warm, faintly callused, and Christian likes the feel of them on his skin. He lets himself relax into it, breathing in Derek's scent and listening to the soft, even sound of him breathing.
"I thought I remembered everything about you," Derek murmurs, letting his hands slide just inside Christian's thighs, barely brushing along the center seam of his jeans. "I dreamed about you almost every night I was gone and then wake up disappointed because it was the wrong hotel room and you had never been there."
"I dreamed about you, too," Christian says softly. "Wondered if you were going to call me. I kinda didn't think you would."
"Why wouldn't I?" Derek asks, very, very slowly opening the button on Christian's jeans.
Christian shrugs. "Didn't think you would," he says. "I'm kinda used to it."
"I thought we covered this in Boston, baby," Derek says, thumb rubbing the skin he's exposed. "I like you, I want to keep seeing you. The only reason you didn't hear from me immediately was I had an hour back here between getting home and leaving again. Then every time I could have called it was the middle of the night for you." He moves to hug Christian again, nuzzling the side of his neck. "I'm not... I like you, and I should have called."
"The middle of my night is six in the morning," Christian says. "Just for future reference. I'm usually up til two or three. And it's not just you--I should have called you, too. Well, I did, but you weren't answering."
"It's done and we're here now," Derek says. "And next time, we'll both know better." He touches Christian's chin, stretching to kiss him.
Christian twists to press against Derek, kissing him back. "I understand the concept of taking your time, but you're driving me crazy over here," he says, nipping Derek's jaw.
"That's the point," Derek says, lowering Christian's zipper. He bites back a groan at the feel of Christian's erection against his palm and pulls his hand back to shove Christian's jeans down. "Those have to go."
Christian laughs and kicks off his socks and shoes before wriggling out of his jeans. "Better?" he asks, settling back against Derek.
"So much," Derek says, reaching down to adjust himself before sliding his arms around Christian again. His hands tremble faintly as he touches him with long, slow strokes along his cock and the crease of his thigh, and he thinks control might be severely overrated in some cases.
"Oh, gods," Christian says, more of a groan than words. He pushes up into Derek's touch, taking a deep breath to try and steady himself. "Gods, please."
"Soon," Derek murmurs, holding Christian's shaft in one hand and rubbing the palm of the other over the leaking tip. "I want to see you come for me and then we're going to play a little more while I stretch you open. Will you let me do that? Will you let me fuck you, Christian?"
Christian swallows, trying to catch his breath. "Yes," he says, trying not to whimper. "Yes, just--please--"
"Put your hand over mine," Derek instructs him. "Show me how you need to be touched."
Christian swallows and nods, reaching down to cover Derek's hand. His grip is tight and his hand moves fast and sure, jerking himself off. "Like this," he whispers.
"One day, I'm just going to watch you," Derek says, catching Christian's fingers between his, changing the grip slightly so they're moving together. His other hand drifts over Christian's chest, lightly toying with his nipples, leaving the piercings alone.
"Kiss me," Christian half-pleads, twisting back. "Kiss me..."
Derek complies, the kiss hard with tongue and teeth and both of them moaning into it. Between that and a few more pulls of their hands, he has Christian coming, arching against him and trying to cry out.
Christian pulls his mouth away to suck in air, his heart pounding. He feels loose and warm and twists to kiss Derek's jaw, resting his head against Derek's throat for a moment. "Gods," he manages finally.
"You're... god, you're incredible," Derek murmurs, lifting their hands to his mouth and licking Christian's fingers clean.
"Me? No," Christian says, his breath catching at the feel of Derek's tongue. "No. You are."
"We both are," Derek says, smiling a little at Christian's complete inability to just accept a compliment. He flicks his tongue against Christian's palm, drawing tiny circles with the tip of his tongue, working his way down to scrape his teeth over Christian's pulse point.
Christian moans softly, his fingers flexing. He can't get hard again this soon but damn that feels good. "Oh," he murmurs. "Oh, I like that...way to a musician's heart, play with his hands."
Derek closes his eyes, drawing two of Christian's fingers between his lips and swirling his tongue around the tips. It's not quite as good as giving head, but with the way Christian reacts, he might as well be. He files it away as an idea for later and draws Christian down with him, lying against him on the bed. Christian murmurs something incoherent and cuddles closer, and Derek closes his eyes, holding him close and content, for the moment, to just be, just like this.
* * *
Christian pulls on his jeans before following Derek into the kitchen. He leans against the wall, finding a place out of the way, and watches Derek start to gather ingredients. "What are you making me?" he asks.
"Rice," Derek says, touching the top of the container. "Chicken kebabs with pineapple and peppers, and there's a pair of mini vanilla bean cheesecakes in the fridge for dessert."
"Sounds wonderful," Christian says. "Can I do anything except stay out of the way?"
"You're probably safer keeping your distance," Derek says with a smile. "When you---if you ever meet my family, they'll tell you about some of my finer kitchen disasters."
Christian laughs. "I'll remember that," he says. "I'm not terrible in the kitchen, but I've had a few spectacularly bad moments."
"Did the fire department ever show up?" Derek asks, measuring out water into the rice cooker.
"I've so far avoided that one," Christian says, laughing.
With the rice set, Derek leans across the island and kisses Christian's cheek. "I haven't. They still send my mom holiday and birthday cards."
"Oh dear," Christian says. "Should I be trusting you to make me dinner?"
"That was back in ninety-four," Derek says, turning back to the other counter. "I've learned a few things since then."
"I should hope so," Christian murmurs.
"I heard that," Derek says, pulling down the cutting board from its hook over the sink.
Christian smiles. "May I raid your fridge for water?" he asks.
"Filter pitcher's on the top shelf," Derek says. "You really can't miss it since there's not much in there."
"Except a couple of very sad tomatoes," Christian says, looking at the fridge. "Honey, I think they're begging for euthanasia." He takes out the pitcher and pours himself a glass of water. "You want one?"
"No, I've got coffee brewing," Derek says, opening the cabinet in front of him and pulling out a pair of gloves. "There's more than the tomatoes. I did buy enough food for a few days. Anything more than that and I risk coming home to sentient lifeforms in there."
"My friend Stephen takes pity on me," Christian says. "Every two weeks or so he comes by and fills my freezer. Between that and the small cooking I do for myself I get by."
Derek nods, neatly slicing a purple pepper into chunks and discarding the seeds. "I had a girlfriend who did that for a while, then she figured a few things out and... well, that ended," he says with a shrug.
"Stephen lives to feed people," Christian says. "Only architect I know who moonlights as a chef." He sips his water. "It makes him happy, though."
"Architect?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "The one you told me about in Boston?"
"That's the one," Christian says.
"Clearly he's a man of many talents," Derek says, skewering together the first of the kebabs. "If you want to make yourself useful, the stereo's in the living room between the two cabinets of CDs."
"Let's see what I can find," Christian says, taking his water. He studies the CDs for a bit before putting on Norah Jones. Mellow sounds good right about now.
Derek puts the kebabs on the electric grill and pours himself a coffee before going to join Christian in the living room. "We should be able to eat in about twenty minutes," he says, standing behind the couch where Christian's sitting and running his fingers through Christian's hair. "The music's a good choice."
"I like it," Christian says. "I own this album somewhere."
"Tell me something," Derek says, hand moving over the back of Christian's neck. "Who's your favorite current musician?"
"Pick a genre," Christian says. "The album I've been listening to most lately is Sweet Warrior, by Richard Thompson, but I don't know if I can say I have a favorite."
"I have... Faithless, maybe, on one of the iPods," Derek says. "Emily gave me a copy last Christmas, I think."
"Mm. That's a good one too," Christian says. "Although Mock Tudor is probably my favorite."
"Hmm. I might have to see if I can get it," Derek says. "I think Prentiss only bought Faithless for Did She Jump or Was She Pushed. That's the kind of co-workers I have."
Christian laughs. "I want to meet them," he says.
"Soon," Derek says, leaning down to kiss the top of Christian's head. "It's been a long time... they're all profilers, you realize, and worse than me."
"Do they all know my mum, too?" Christian asks.
"I don't think Emily and Rossi do," Derek says, walking around the couch to sit down beside Christian. "Hotch, Reid and JJ have worked with her before. JJ's the one who picks our cases."
Christian nods. "My friends are all insane," he says. "Without exception. Stephen's the sanest of the bunch, which should frighten you."
"We could always put the two groups together and see what happens," Derek suggests.
"Name the place," Christian says.
"Really?" Derek looks at him, kind of surprised. It's been a long time since he's liked anyone enough to think about inflicting, say, Reid on them. Longer since he's had a man in his life---at all, if he's honest---who wanted him to meet anyone.
"Sure," Christian says. "If you're willing to deal with crazy musicians, I can deal with profilers. I can always make Travis host it, he's got a huge house."
Derek smiles, a little shyly. "Okay. Maybe two weekends from now? With a few prayers that nothing urgent comes up," he says. "And are you sure about this? It's kind of a big step."
"You're the one who sounds a little unsure," Christian says. "We don't have to do this, you know."
"I... need to check on dinner," Derek says as the timer on the grill goes off. Literally saved by the bell.
Christian shakes his head, not sure whether to laugh or just be resigned.
The chicken isn't quite done so Derek flips the kebabs, adds more glaze, and tries to shut up all the little voices in his head telling him he's going to Screw This Up. He takes a few minutes to go set the table then walks back to the living room. "I like you, a lot, and it scares me," he says without preamble. "I don't do relationships well, or kind of at all, and there's not a lot that stays private when you work with, travel with, damn near live with, the same group of people day in and day out. If you don't like them or your friends don't like me, where's that leave us? What happens when you get sick of dating someone who's never here?"
Christian tilts his head. "I notice you don't say anything about your co-workers not liking me," he says.
"If Garcia doesn't like you, that's one thing. Or JJ," Derek says. "That means you're probably evil and need to be destroyed. Reid's going to be baffled and awkward. Prentiss is going to find a thousand ways to tease me while noticing that you're both adorable and have a great ass. Rossi can go straight to hell, and Hotch will either talk to you and twitch something like a smile or talk to you and just twitch."
"Okay," Christian says. "Here's hoping I pass the Garcia and JJ test. As for my friends--after the last two boyfriends I've had, let's just say you're sane, you're polite, and--anyway, they'll like you. If Travis offers to buy you a new car, he really likes you. Stephen will feed you brownies--trust me, you want them. If David doesn't like you, it's either that you're evil or he's being overprotective, but I'll try to get him over that."
"Sane, polite and what?" Derek asks a little warily. They've avoided the ex conversations so far, but he can make a pretty good guess at what's there.
"The next-to-last boyfriend I had cheated on me, and you don't know me well enough for the last one," Christian says.
Derek nods slowly, weighing his options. "He abused you," he says plainly. "I figured that out the first time we had dinner, or at least I thought someone had." He doesn't look at Christian, he can't.
Christian sets down his glass carefully. "What made you think that?" he asks.
"The way you reacted to me talking about the case. The way you subtly put yourself down. You get nervous when someone---when I'm behind you," Derek says. "That's what the profiler in me says. The rest of me... well, it's your business. You got out of it, and I'll be here if you need support around it, but I'm also thinking I'd be okay if I just got to be... got to be, I don't know, your boyfriend, lover, whatever."
"I did get out," Christian says. "Maybe at some point I'll be able to tell you the rest, if you want. Just not right now."
"Does it... it doesn't change how I feel about you, you know," Derek says quietly. "For one thing, it'd be hypocritical. It's part of your past, and if, or when, you want to tell me, then I'll listen."
"Okay," Christian says. "I think dinner might be ready, if the beeping is any indication."
"Right," Derek says, shaking his head and pushing away from the wall. "How are you at picking wine? Do you want wine?"
"I'm not very good at picking it out," Christian says. "I don't have much of a palate."
"Okay," Derek says, ducking into the kitchen and moving to turn things off. "The rack's in the dining room. Anything in the lower right hand corner, and, no, reds aren't supposed to be paired with chicken, but I don't care."
"Got it." Christian goes to find a bottle of wine.
Derek places the kebabs and rice into serving dishes and brings them to the table, taking a look at the bottle of merlot Christian's picked. "Let me guess, you liked the design on the label?"
Christian shrugs. "Didn't have much else to go on," he says.
"That's how I pick half of them," Derek says, mirroring Christian's shrug. "I research them once I get them home." He picks up the corkscrew and opens the bottle. "This one is supposedly a slightly sweet, lighter red with faint citrus notes and lower alcohol content. I think it's all a lot of fancy talk to say 'you just might get a buzz from something that tastes sort of like fruit.'"
Christian laughs. "I don't tend to buy much wine," he says. "When I do buy alcohol, it's usually tequila or beer."
"I just like the look of a stocked wine rack," Derek admits as he fills both of their glasses and takes his seat. "I usually try to pick up a bottle wherever we have a case. You can find local wines in places that have no business whatsoever producing them, like Kentucky. It had a really cool label, though."
"Was the wine any good?" Christian asks, sitting down.
Derek laughs. "It had a really cool label."
"Right," Christian says, laughing.
"No, it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't very good either," Derek says. "I have another bottle from the same vineyard that I haven't opened yet. I'm kind of afraid of it."
"If we do end up doing this combined party thing, you can bring it," Christian says. "Worst thing that happens is we turn it into mulled wine or wine punch."
"I think we should do it," Derek says, looking at Christian. "I'm not going to lie; it makes me nervous, but it's going to have to happen sooner or later if we keep seeing each other."
"Makes me a bit nervous too, but at least this way we won't be trapped with one or two people and they can all mingle," Christian says. "Saves some of the pressure on us."
"Except it means you have to put up with me for at least a couple more weeks," Derek says, scooping rice out onto Christian's plate then his own. "Are you sure you're up for that?"
"Don't be an idiot," Christian says.
"I'm not. I'm being insecure, and there's a difference," Derek says. "I told you, I don't do relationships, or at least I haven't for a long time. Just giving you an out."
"I'm not taking it," Christian says. "Do you want an out? Sure you want to put up with me?"
"I'm pretty sure I do," Derek says, picking up his fork. "Not quite ready to take you home to my family, but even that's only because I think they'd eat you alive."
"That would be painful," Christian observes. "I'm not so much into cannibalism."
"Metaphor, baby, just a metaphor," Derek says. "My sisters are kind of... overwhelming and my mom's going to want to know how soon we can find a surrogate and start giving her grandbabies."
"Aren't you glad I'm an only child?" Christian asks. "And you already know my mum?"
"Definitely," Derek says. "Although Carol's almost as bad as my momma. The first thing out of her mouth when I met her for the deposition was a series of questions about how our dates had gone."
"Of course it was," Christian says. "I'm sorry."
Derek shrugs. "I expected it and kept my answers short and to the point," he says. "Until she asked about sex and I just walked away."
Christian goes pink. "Gods," he says. "I'm going to strangle her."
"She did apologize, sort of," Derek says, kind of enjoying Christian's reaction. "She just wanted to make sure you were happy."
"She could have asked me," Christian says with a sigh.
"You would have strangled her," Derek points out.
"Or died of embarrassment," Christian says.
"Nah, you're not allowed to die," Derek says. "Not for a long time yet."
"Good to know," Christian murmurs.
"Eat," Derek says, gesturing toward Christian's plate. "We can plan mortifying things to tell your mother later."
Christian laughs and picks up his fork.
* * *
“Party at our house,” Travis determines as soon as Christian brings up the idea. He sprawls elegantly in the armchair, one long leg hooked over the arm, absently tapping away on his BlackBerry.
“The only reason you bought that house was to entertain, wasn't it?” Christian asks.
“That and the hot tub on the roof deck. honestly, do Kyle and I need that much space? I think not.” Travis grins.
“Yeah, you keep saying that, Travis,” Warrick says, coming back with two mugs balanced on one hand. He sets the English Breakfast down next to Christian and gives up one of the coffees to Travis before dropping down onto the couch. “We get it. You hosting, Stephen bringing food. Christian sacrificing the new boyfriend.”
“For all your books and his handcuffs? Yes, you do,” Christian says. “Hey, his co-workers are going to be there! Who's sacrificing who?” He looks indignant, glaring at Warrick.
Warrick raises an eyebrow and glares back, the effect completely ruined by the glint in his green eyes. “I’d take my chances with a bunch of FBI pains in the ass again before I'd go in blind meeting Travis and David.”
“I’m scarier,” Travis claims.
“And smarter from what I've seen,” Warrick says, earning an amused snort from Stephen even though it's not enough for him to look up from the blueprints spread on the coffee table.
“I don't think that's much of a compliment,” Travis says with a pout.
“Really, Christian, if you had to go for a Fed, you couldn't have picked a better agency?” Warrick asks.
“I wasn't intending to go for anyone at all!” Christian protests, slumping down on the couch.
“Mm-hmm,” Warrick says. “Well, it's about time you found someone, even if he works for a bunch of morons.”
“I've dated in the past year,” Christian argues.
“’Hi, I’m Christian and you are?’ leading directly to a backroom handjob isn't dating, honey,” Warrick points out.
“You had one--I can't even call it a one-night stand because it didn't last past the back room of the club, and one other one-night stand that didn't last past you finding your clothes in the morning. That is not dating,” Travis says.
“Yes, and you know why I haven't,” Christian says, fiddling with his ring. “You know exactly why.”
“I know, honey,” Travis says, getting up from his chair. “I know.” He gives Christian a tight hug.
“But this one's good, right?” Warrick asks, reaching over to rub his hand over Christian's back. “We're not going to have to dismember him after dinner?”
“You didn't dismember the last one, and yes, this one's good. Even my mum approves,” Christian says, releasing Travis to go back to his seat.
“We should have,” Warrick mutters..
Christian glances at him. “Let it go, Warrick,” he says softly.
“Christian, he beat the hell out of you, more than once. I think I can hang on to being pissed off about it for a little while longer,” Warrick says evenly.
“For four months and ten days, and then I got out. Well, with help,” Christian amends.
“We know. We were there, remember? And you can be okay with it, I’m not.” Warrick says.
“I didn't say I was okay with it,” Christian points out.
“No, but you don't like the idea of anyone else being angry about because it might mean we actually care about you,” Warrick says matter-of-factly.
“I don't like the idea of anyone else being angry about it because it won't change anything,” Christian says in frustration. “It's over, he's gone, that's the end of it.”
“So how many people am I feeding? And is anyone vegetarian?” Stephen asks, changing the subject and earning a look of gratitude from Christian.
“Kyle. Just make half veggie and half meat things and people can deal with it,” Warrick says, leaning back against the couch and draping his arm around Stephen's shoulders.
“But how many people?” Stephen asks, giving a quick shake of his head when Warrick starts playing with his hair.
“Um.” Christian thinks. “On our side, nine, and on his side, I think seven?”
Stephen nods. “I’ll plan for twenty, then,” he says.
“Which means he'll cook for thirty five,” Warrick adds.
Christian shrugs. “At least we'll have leftovers.”
“And I won't be able to get into the kitchen for three days before,” Warrick says.
“Are you just being bitchy tonight or is there a reason?” Christian asks impatiently.
“Who? Me?” Warrick asks in surprise.
“Yes, you,” Christian says.
“What part was bitchy? Knowing my partner well enough to know he'll cook for an army no matter how many people you tell him and that I'll be banned from the kitchen for at least three, probably four, days so he can cook? That's not bitchy, it's straight fact,” Warrick says.
“Probably only two, really,” Stephen says. “I mean, I'll probably make a couple of pasta salads and things, and those are fast.”
“But we'll say three just so I don't make a sandwich from the wrong thing or move something,” Warrick says.
Stephen laughs and kisses Warrick on the cheek. “I promise not to let you starve.”
“What do profilers drink?” Travis asks.
“I’m figuring margaritas and beer,” Christian says. Warrick thinks better of making any suggestions---like hemlock and absinthe, or the blood of newborn children--- hiding his smirk against Stephen's shoulder before he gets called bitchy again.
* * *
Derek sits down with a glass of wine, a cup of tea for Christian, Christian himself and a fluffball of a cat who thinks the back of his neck is the perfect place to drape herself and purr like a Harley. All in all, not a bad evening, except for the possible disaster of the next night.
"Tell me something," he says, moving his arm as Christian decides to lay his head in his lap. "How do I know who's who? Is there a photo album I can study? Gross disfigurements to be tactful about or extreme heights?"
"Hm," Christian says. "I have pictures on my laptop. Do I have to move to get it?"
"No, just tell me about them," Derek says, setting his glass down so he can run his fingers through Christian's hair. If he does it just right, he can get him purring as loudly as Mimi, which Christian will just deny.
"Mm, kay," Christian says, closing his eyes. "Travis is tall and skinny and fabulous. He and Kyle make a strange couple physically--on the one hand, you have Travis, who's six-four and has skin just a little lighter than yours, and then there's Kyle, who's six feet and looks like a recruiting poster for Middle America, I guess? All short blond hair and blue eyes and built like a Mack truck."
"Sounds less like Middle America and more like some of the militias out west," Derek says. "How'd they end up together?"
"Kyle does some volunteer work for the Maverick Foundation," Christian says. "Counseling for some of the older teens, I think. He went to one of their fundraiser galas, and Travis was there for obvious reasons, and they hit it off."
"Maverick, billion dollar corporation with military contracts," Derek says, tilting his head back before he remembers Mimi's there. She yowls at him and leaps down from his shoulder to Christian's chest. "He's an executive assistant to the CEO, right?"
"The main one, yeah," Christian says. "If you ask Travis, the other two are there to support him, not Gil. He's kind of got a point."
Derek nods, brushing his fingers over Christian's cheek. "So, those two, and then Warrick and Stephen are the other couple? The amazing cock-sucking architect and what does Warrick do?"
Christian laughs. "Stephen's the cock-sucking architect currently working as the pastry chef for Decadence," he points out. "Kinda looks like the stupid brother from Heroes. Not the politician, the other one. And Warrick is an assistant professor of forensics. Before you ask, they met in Las Vegas, where Warrick was working at the time and Stephen had gone out to do some design work for Lady Heather, and eventually ended up here."
"I think I've heard about Warrick," Derek says. "I mean, from Reid, not you. He thought about joining their crime lab but they've got a guy out there who gets kidnapped all the time. There was a rumor at the last big interagency training that they stuck a GPS chip under his skin after the third time."
"Yeah, that's Nick," Christian says. "He's like the designated punching bag. Stephen doesn't like him very much, but that's because Nick was kind of an asshole to him for a long time."
"What'd Stephen do to him?" Derek asks, watching as Christian's hair curls around his finger and then springs back when he lets go.
"Well, first Nick rearranged all the labels on Stephen's spices," Christian says. "So Stephen dyed him blue. He was blue for a week."
Derek goes still, running that back in his head. "I don't want to know," he decides. "I don't want to know and I don't want him near Reid."
"Probably for the best," Christian says. "The only other one you'll meet tomorrow is David, and he's the single one out of the bunch, at least at the moment. You'll recognize him by the jewelry, because he makes the third six-feet-or-over blonde we have."
"That's kind of disturbing," Derek says. "Out of the twelve of us tomorrow, five will be blonde."
"Okay, so I know two of your co-workers are blonde," Christian says. "Tell me more about them so I can pretend to know who they are?"
"One of the blondes will have on earrings big enough to use as bracelets, carry a purse that looks like it could double as a bowling bag, and has curves..." Derek makes a sound half-way between a groan and a sigh, the only true way to describe Garcia. "If she wasn't my best friend, she'd be the perfect woman."
"Ah, yes, Garcia," Christian says. "You've told me a bit about her. Fortunately for me she's not quite the perfect woman for you."
"Lucky for you," Derek says, leaning down to kiss Christian's forehead. "The other blonde lady, JJ, looks like she could be your sister. Big blue eyes, sweet smile, wicked sense of humor. She has a son, Henry, a couple months old, and he's almost as cute as she is."
"Will she be bringing Henry tomorrow?" Christian asks hopefully.
"No, Will's staying home with him," Derek says. "He just got back from a couple of days down in New Orleans and it sounded like he's not up for a party."
"Oh," Christian says, disappointed. "Well, maybe another time."
Derek smiles. "You like being around babies?"
"I do," Christian admits. "I tend to do well with kids."
"You ever think about having your own?" Derek asks, tracing the collar of Christian's shirt with one finger.
"Maybe someday," Christian says. "With the right guy, if I felt financially stable enough. You?"
"With the right person, yeah," Derek says. "That and when I'm ready to think about moving from the BAU. I know JJ and Hotch both do it, but I can't imagine having a family back here and leaving all the time. It's hard enough having a relationship, you know?"
"Mm, yeah," Christian says. "I'm on the road a bit myself, and I wouldn't want to do that with a kid." He stretches. "Who is Hotch? He's your boss, right?"
"Right, Aaron Hotchner," Derek says, smiling, pleased that Christian remembers these things. "He'll be the one who barely cracks a smile and still has on his tie. He's a little intense, but he's a good man."
"Who does that leave?" Christian asks. "There's one left, isn't there?"
"Technically, two, but Spencer's the one you have to worry about," Derek says. "Anything he might say about us sharing a bed, ignore it. He tells lies."
"Spencer is..." Christian thinks back. "The socially awkward genius who's younger than me?"
"He's a little older, but yes to the rest of it," Derek says. "He's not as awkward as he used to be. Hooking up with Lila Archer probably helped with that. Nothing like a hot actress in a little bikini to make you get your game together."
"I can only imagine," Christian says, laughing. "And the one I don't have to worry about?"
Derek's grin fades a little. "David Rossi," he says. "He helped start the BAU, retired and came back after Gideon left. We... I don't dislike the man, I just don't really feel a need to spend personal time with him right now and I think he feels the same way. Ask Garcia about him tomorrow; she's got some pretty colorful things to say about him."
"I think...I could be wrong, math's not my strong suit, but aren't you missing someone?" Christian asks. "One of the women?"
"Oh, damn. Emily." Derek grimaces. "Don't tell her about that. She'll kill me."
"I won't, but tell me about her," Christian says, laughing.
"Dark hair, bangs that were a bad decision, but don't tell her that either," Derek says, picking up his wine and taking a sip. "She's lived all over the world. Her mom's an ambassador, so she's used to handling politics and hates it."
"I won't, and okay," Christian says. "You guys have a varied group of people."
"You think so?" Derek asks, taking another drink from his glass. "I guess we do, but what makes you say so?"
"It just sounds that way," Christian says. "You guys are from all over, have such different backgrounds. Genius, diplomat, former bomb squad, whatever JJ is..."
"Small town girl turned FBI PR director for the BAU," Derek supplies. "The more experiences we have at the table, the easier it is to do our jobs, and the more skills available, the better. For instance, Reid and I can look at a ransom note and pick up completely different things from it but we might both be right."
"Oh, I'm not denying it's useful, just commenting that you work with a very varied group of people," Christian says. "As opposed to my friends."
"You love your friends," Derek says. "And you've got a musician, a corporate assistant, a dom, an architect-chef, a cop-turned-professor, and you, the rock star."
"The aspiring rock star," Christian amends. "And I adore my friends. They're wonderful people."
"I hope so, since we're spending tomorrow night with them," Derek says, covering his mouth as he yawns. "I think it might be bedtime for me. Are you staying up to work?"
"No, I think I'll go to bed with you," Christian says, sitting up and setting Mimi on the floor.
"I was hoping you'd say that." Derek stands up and holds a hand out to Christian. "You're spoiling me, you know."
"Why so?" Christian asks, taking Derek's hand and getting to his feet.
"I'm getting used to sleeping with someone," Derek says, pulling Christian close and wrapping an arm around him. "I miss you when it's just me in bed."
Christian smiles and kisses his cheek. "I miss you when it's just me, too," Christian says.
* * *
Part Four
Authors: blueraccoon & sandersyager
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing/character: Derek Morgan/OMC, hints of Spencer Reid/OMC
Rating: NC-17/FRAO
Word Count: 26,717
Kink: first time, dirty talk, mild hand fetish, handjobs, oral sex
Warnings: sex between two consenting adult males; references to past relationship and child abuse and domestic violence
Summary: It's been a very long time since Derek Morgan's had someone in his life long enough to meet his friends and even longer since anyone's taken him home to meet their mother. When he meets Christian Godfrey, he gets all that and the bonus of a small white cat with more attitude than Garcia.
Notes & Cautions: We don't even pretend to like David Rossi (I'd feel bad for Rossi, but really, he's an asshole.-blueraccoon). We are also fully aware that several of the characters also appear in Blueraccoon's Geometry series and our joint project, Ranks of the Freaks; please forget what you know from those universes because this is an AU of an AU of an AU in which neither of those universes ever existed. kelly_girl, bookgodess15, henchgirl, and lillian13 poked holes in the plot, prodded us to keep writing and pointed out mistakes. We love them for it more than words can say.
Artist: sylum_tru made us a truly kickass banner and solved our (years long) issue of trying to cast Christian.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Single post (Redirects to Dreamwidth)
* * *
Derek gets back to Virginia on Monday, has just enough time to unpack before his phone rings and then it's off to Arizona. He doesn't get a chance to call Christian, and maybe it's for the best. The lag and then the awkwardness of the lag force him to get creative instead of just making small talk, and after a week he gives in and sends him a package with a specialty blend black cherry white tea and chocolate covered cherries. Then he waits.
The package makes him smile, and Christian brews a cup of the tea before picking up his phone to call Derek. He'd almost given up on hearing back from him, and it's nice to be surprised. As the phone rings, he wonders if Derek's even in DC this week.
"I missed you," Derek says in lieu of hello when he answers. It's not what he planned, but it comes out before he can stop it, and it's true.
"Now that's a way to answer the phone," Christian says. "I missed you too, handsome."
Derek smiles, stretching out on his couch for the first time in way too long. "Did you get the bribe?"
"I did," Christian says. "I'm making the tea right now. I don't know how it tastes but it smells lovely. Why are you bribing me?"
"So you'll come over and let me make you dinner sometime this week," Derek says. "Like maybe tonight?"
"Tonight would be good," Christian says. "It's about my only free night this week, really. Do you need directions?"
"I wanted you to come to me," Derek says. "I don't think my apartment will let me leave."
"Right, right, you said that. Sorry, I'm a little distracted." Christian rakes a hand through his curls and looks around at the piles of music around him. "Are you near the Metro or something? I haven't got a car."
"Yeah," Derek says and gives him the directions, getting up to wander around the apartment and note what needs to be cleaned before Christian's allowed in. "You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm going to have to run out to the store but otherwise I'll be here."
"Okay," Christian says. "I'll be there as soon as the Metro will let me."
"Take your time, at least finish your tea," Derek says, grinning. "And, uh, if you want to spend the night, I really wouldn't have a problem with that."
"I'll keep that in mind," Christian says, smiling. "I'll see you soon, Derek."
"See you soon," Derek echoes before hanging up the phone.
Christian does end up finishing his tea, which is quite good, and making sure Mimi has a clean litter box and food and water before he heads out. The Metro takes him less time than he'd worried about, and Derek's directions are straightforward, so it's not too much longer before he's buzzing up.
Derek's just putting away the last of the groceries when the buzzer goes off and he takes a quick look at the screen from the security camera before letting Christian up. He leaves the door open and goes back to the kitchen, trusting him to find his way inside.
"Hello the house," Christian calls, shutting the door after him. He looks around, liking the space. It's bigger than his apartment, which isn't a surprise, and neat without being Spartan.
"Second doorway, Christian," Derek calls from the kitchen. "Living room's to your left, dining room's the first doorway."
"Nice place," Christian says, finding Derek in the kitchen. "And the decor's not bad either." He winks at Derek. "Hey, handsome."
Derek smiles, stepping around the small island to hug Christian. "Hi, cutie," he says, kissing his cheek.
"That's all I get?" Christian asks with a mock-pout. "I was expecting a proper hello kiss."
"I was just getting started," Derek says, lips touching Christian's cheek again lightly as he kisses his way to Christian's mouth.
Christian makes a soft sound, returning the kiss, his lips parting for Derek. His own arms go around Derek's waist and he holds him close.
It's too easy to get lost in kissing Christian, and Derek lets himself for a while, fingers carding through Christian's curls and tongues sliding together. He finally pulls away when he can't stand the counter digging into his hip any more, and even then it's just enough to speak. "There are better places for this."
"There are," Christian says, nuzzling Derek's jaw. "You wanna find one?"
"Yeah, I do," Derek says. "Couch or bed?"
"Bed," Christian says, smiling a little.
"Okay." Derek nods, placing his hands flat against Christian's chest and forcing himself to take a half step back. "I'd ask if you wanted something to drink, but we're way past that point."
"I think we are, yes," Christian agrees. "Although you are going to feed me at some point."
"I am," Derek says, trusting Christian to follow him out of the kitchen and into the hall. "The guest room's in here, guest bath, office." He taps each door as they pass it, and finally opens the one to his bedroom. The bed's neatly made, the blankets folded at the bottom, and the curtains are drawn back so light comes through the sheer under layer.
"I think my entire place could fit in your living room and dining room," Christian says, looking around.
"I know it's too much space, but I figure I own the building so I can have the nicest unit," Derek says with a shrug.
"I'm definitely impressed," Christian says. "I should not show you my place. You'd be horrified." He grins.
"I doubt it," Derek says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I spent a year and a half living in a place half the size of my closet. It was this crappy little studio, just enough room for a twin bed and I could stretch my arms out and reach all four walls."
"Mine's not quite that bad," Christian says, sitting next to him. "I have a loft. Bedroom and laundry upstairs, bath, kitchen. living-slash-dining-slash-music area downstairs."
"You'll have to invite me over some time so I can see it," Derek says, resting one hand against Christian's back as he turns slightly and the other on his knee. "How was the tea?"
"Lovely, thank you," Christian says. "Very light." He leans into Derek.
"You're welcome. The last day we were in Arizona, near Phoenix, I found this little tea shop and the owner recommended it," Derek says. He kisses Christian's temple. "I kept thinking about you but there was never time to call."
"It's okay," Christian says. "I've been pretty busy the last few days as it is."
"What have you been doing?" Derek asks, taking the time to really look at Christian now that they've slowed down a little. He's just as cute as he remembered, maybe more so.
"This and that," Christian says. "Nothing that exciting. Some publicity for the new CD, rehearsal, booking performances for our tour, all that fun stuff."
"More of the glamorous rock star life," Derek says with a smile.
"Is that what they call it these days?" Christian asks, laughing. "We're leaving on a tour to promote the CD in about six weeks."
"I bet you'll love that, getting to perform night after night," Derek says, moving away to turn and sit back against the pillows piled at the headboard. "How many shows are you going to do?"
"Thirty so far," Christian says. "We'll be on the road for about six weeks."
"You'll have to let me know when you're playing around here," Derek says. "Come here." He pats the space between his outstretched legs.
"I will," Christian says, moving to settle between Derek's legs, leaning back against him. "I can get you tickets if you want."
"I'd like that," Derek says, wrapping his arms around Christian and resting his chin on his shoulder. "I like having you here now, too."
Christian smiles and turns to kiss Derek on the cheek. "I like being here now," he says.
Derek stretches to kiss him back, seeking and finding his mouth, gently licking his way inside.
Christian rests his hands on Derek's thighs, fingers flexing against his pants. Derek's gentle with him, careful, and Christian thinks he likes it. It's a definite change from his sex life lately--what little there's been of it.
One kiss moves into another and another, bodies shifting to make the angle easier and Derek slips one hand under Christian's shirt. He's decided he loves the piercings and the effect they have on Christian, and he plays with them a little as his mouth moves along the side of Christian's neck.
"Derek," Christian says huskily, squirming under his touch. "I'm--oh, gods, that's--it's too much--" His head falls back and he whines.
Derek backs off, sliding his hand down Christian's stomach. "I love hearing you like this," he murmurs, his other hand running over Christian's back. "We can slow down if you need to."
Christian takes a deep breath but shakes his head. "No," he says. "No, it's okay, I'm just not used to it. These are still pretty new."
"I'll come back to them later," Derek says, placing a kiss just behind the hinge of Christian's jaw. "You aren't used to this are you?" He doesn't know why he says it, it's just a feeling he's gotten when they've been together, and it makes him wonder what kind of men Christian's been dating.
"Used to what?" Christian asks. "Someone playing with my piercings? No, not really."
"Someone wanting it be good for you," Derek says. "Taking their time, backing off when you need it, being tender."
Christian smiles faintly. "Honey, I've had sex twice in the last year and both times it was a pretty quick one-night stand that didn't go for much beyond the 'where's the condom'."
Derek's arms tighten around him almost reflexively and he kisses Christian's cheek. "I don't do that, ever," he says. "And I think I want to keep you around a lot longer than a couple of nights, make sure you're treated right."
"Yeah?" Christian asks, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. "That's good to know. I think I want to stick around."
"Then it's settled," Derek says, smoothing the back of his hand along Christian's side. "That's what I want today, you know, to take my time with you and make sure everything feels good."
"Okay," Christian says, leaning up to kiss him. "I want to make sure it feels good for you, too, you know."
"I know. Let me spoil you for a little while," Derek says, hands settling against Christian's belly again. "I've had two weeks to think about all the ways I want you, and I think if you really touched me now, it'd be over before we got started."
"If that's what you want, I'm all yours," Christian says. "Tell me how you want me."
Derek smiles, knowing it's a very long list. There's just not much to do in a town that closes at sunset with a case that's most deadly ends. "Let's start with you taking your shirt off."
"You have simple tastes," Christian says, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside.
"I told you, I like sex simple," Derek says, stopping Christian from leaning back with palms against his shoulder blades. He leans forward and kisses the back of his neck, scratching lightly down his back. "Simple but intense."
Christian shivers and arches under Derek's hands. "Intense is good," he says.
"Memory has nothing on reality," Derek says, mostly to himself, as he continues touching Christian, slowly exploring his skin. He gradually adds Christian's arms to the places his fingers brush or scratch or stroke, and threads their fingers together for a moment.
Christian closes his hands, trapping Derek's briefly. "Feels good," he murmurs. "I like being touched like this."
Derek folds their arms together across Christian's body, placing kisses along the line of Christian's shoulders. "Thank you for letting me," he murmurs back, knowing it can take a lot more to give this kind of patience to someone, to be exposed like this.
His hand brushes over the scar on his ribs and Christian moves his arm slightly, loosening his hold on Derek's hands. "Tell me what you want now," he says. "Talk to me."
"I want you to relax and let me keep doing this," Derek says, fingers moving under Christian's hands to drift over his stomach and along the inside of his arms. "I want this to build a little longer while we're able to just feel the places we're touching and the ones where we aren't." He moves his hands lower, running over Christian's hips where his jeans separate skin from skin.
Christian closes his eyes, letting Derek touch him. Derek's hands are warm, faintly callused, and Christian likes the feel of them on his skin. He lets himself relax into it, breathing in Derek's scent and listening to the soft, even sound of him breathing.
"I thought I remembered everything about you," Derek murmurs, letting his hands slide just inside Christian's thighs, barely brushing along the center seam of his jeans. "I dreamed about you almost every night I was gone and then wake up disappointed because it was the wrong hotel room and you had never been there."
"I dreamed about you, too," Christian says softly. "Wondered if you were going to call me. I kinda didn't think you would."
"Why wouldn't I?" Derek asks, very, very slowly opening the button on Christian's jeans.
Christian shrugs. "Didn't think you would," he says. "I'm kinda used to it."
"I thought we covered this in Boston, baby," Derek says, thumb rubbing the skin he's exposed. "I like you, I want to keep seeing you. The only reason you didn't hear from me immediately was I had an hour back here between getting home and leaving again. Then every time I could have called it was the middle of the night for you." He moves to hug Christian again, nuzzling the side of his neck. "I'm not... I like you, and I should have called."
"The middle of my night is six in the morning," Christian says. "Just for future reference. I'm usually up til two or three. And it's not just you--I should have called you, too. Well, I did, but you weren't answering."
"It's done and we're here now," Derek says. "And next time, we'll both know better." He touches Christian's chin, stretching to kiss him.
Christian twists to press against Derek, kissing him back. "I understand the concept of taking your time, but you're driving me crazy over here," he says, nipping Derek's jaw.
"That's the point," Derek says, lowering Christian's zipper. He bites back a groan at the feel of Christian's erection against his palm and pulls his hand back to shove Christian's jeans down. "Those have to go."
Christian laughs and kicks off his socks and shoes before wriggling out of his jeans. "Better?" he asks, settling back against Derek.
"So much," Derek says, reaching down to adjust himself before sliding his arms around Christian again. His hands tremble faintly as he touches him with long, slow strokes along his cock and the crease of his thigh, and he thinks control might be severely overrated in some cases.
"Oh, gods," Christian says, more of a groan than words. He pushes up into Derek's touch, taking a deep breath to try and steady himself. "Gods, please."
"Soon," Derek murmurs, holding Christian's shaft in one hand and rubbing the palm of the other over the leaking tip. "I want to see you come for me and then we're going to play a little more while I stretch you open. Will you let me do that? Will you let me fuck you, Christian?"
Christian swallows, trying to catch his breath. "Yes," he says, trying not to whimper. "Yes, just--please--"
"Put your hand over mine," Derek instructs him. "Show me how you need to be touched."
Christian swallows and nods, reaching down to cover Derek's hand. His grip is tight and his hand moves fast and sure, jerking himself off. "Like this," he whispers.
"One day, I'm just going to watch you," Derek says, catching Christian's fingers between his, changing the grip slightly so they're moving together. His other hand drifts over Christian's chest, lightly toying with his nipples, leaving the piercings alone.
"Kiss me," Christian half-pleads, twisting back. "Kiss me..."
Derek complies, the kiss hard with tongue and teeth and both of them moaning into it. Between that and a few more pulls of their hands, he has Christian coming, arching against him and trying to cry out.
Christian pulls his mouth away to suck in air, his heart pounding. He feels loose and warm and twists to kiss Derek's jaw, resting his head against Derek's throat for a moment. "Gods," he manages finally.
"You're... god, you're incredible," Derek murmurs, lifting their hands to his mouth and licking Christian's fingers clean.
"Me? No," Christian says, his breath catching at the feel of Derek's tongue. "No. You are."
"We both are," Derek says, smiling a little at Christian's complete inability to just accept a compliment. He flicks his tongue against Christian's palm, drawing tiny circles with the tip of his tongue, working his way down to scrape his teeth over Christian's pulse point.
Christian moans softly, his fingers flexing. He can't get hard again this soon but damn that feels good. "Oh," he murmurs. "Oh, I like that...way to a musician's heart, play with his hands."
Derek closes his eyes, drawing two of Christian's fingers between his lips and swirling his tongue around the tips. It's not quite as good as giving head, but with the way Christian reacts, he might as well be. He files it away as an idea for later and draws Christian down with him, lying against him on the bed. Christian murmurs something incoherent and cuddles closer, and Derek closes his eyes, holding him close and content, for the moment, to just be, just like this.
* * *
Christian pulls on his jeans before following Derek into the kitchen. He leans against the wall, finding a place out of the way, and watches Derek start to gather ingredients. "What are you making me?" he asks.
"Rice," Derek says, touching the top of the container. "Chicken kebabs with pineapple and peppers, and there's a pair of mini vanilla bean cheesecakes in the fridge for dessert."
"Sounds wonderful," Christian says. "Can I do anything except stay out of the way?"
"You're probably safer keeping your distance," Derek says with a smile. "When you---if you ever meet my family, they'll tell you about some of my finer kitchen disasters."
Christian laughs. "I'll remember that," he says. "I'm not terrible in the kitchen, but I've had a few spectacularly bad moments."
"Did the fire department ever show up?" Derek asks, measuring out water into the rice cooker.
"I've so far avoided that one," Christian says, laughing.
With the rice set, Derek leans across the island and kisses Christian's cheek. "I haven't. They still send my mom holiday and birthday cards."
"Oh dear," Christian says. "Should I be trusting you to make me dinner?"
"That was back in ninety-four," Derek says, turning back to the other counter. "I've learned a few things since then."
"I should hope so," Christian murmurs.
"I heard that," Derek says, pulling down the cutting board from its hook over the sink.
Christian smiles. "May I raid your fridge for water?" he asks.
"Filter pitcher's on the top shelf," Derek says. "You really can't miss it since there's not much in there."
"Except a couple of very sad tomatoes," Christian says, looking at the fridge. "Honey, I think they're begging for euthanasia." He takes out the pitcher and pours himself a glass of water. "You want one?"
"No, I've got coffee brewing," Derek says, opening the cabinet in front of him and pulling out a pair of gloves. "There's more than the tomatoes. I did buy enough food for a few days. Anything more than that and I risk coming home to sentient lifeforms in there."
"My friend Stephen takes pity on me," Christian says. "Every two weeks or so he comes by and fills my freezer. Between that and the small cooking I do for myself I get by."
Derek nods, neatly slicing a purple pepper into chunks and discarding the seeds. "I had a girlfriend who did that for a while, then she figured a few things out and... well, that ended," he says with a shrug.
"Stephen lives to feed people," Christian says. "Only architect I know who moonlights as a chef." He sips his water. "It makes him happy, though."
"Architect?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "The one you told me about in Boston?"
"That's the one," Christian says.
"Clearly he's a man of many talents," Derek says, skewering together the first of the kebabs. "If you want to make yourself useful, the stereo's in the living room between the two cabinets of CDs."
"Let's see what I can find," Christian says, taking his water. He studies the CDs for a bit before putting on Norah Jones. Mellow sounds good right about now.
Derek puts the kebabs on the electric grill and pours himself a coffee before going to join Christian in the living room. "We should be able to eat in about twenty minutes," he says, standing behind the couch where Christian's sitting and running his fingers through Christian's hair. "The music's a good choice."
"I like it," Christian says. "I own this album somewhere."
"Tell me something," Derek says, hand moving over the back of Christian's neck. "Who's your favorite current musician?"
"Pick a genre," Christian says. "The album I've been listening to most lately is Sweet Warrior, by Richard Thompson, but I don't know if I can say I have a favorite."
"I have... Faithless, maybe, on one of the iPods," Derek says. "Emily gave me a copy last Christmas, I think."
"Mm. That's a good one too," Christian says. "Although Mock Tudor is probably my favorite."
"Hmm. I might have to see if I can get it," Derek says. "I think Prentiss only bought Faithless for Did She Jump or Was She Pushed. That's the kind of co-workers I have."
Christian laughs. "I want to meet them," he says.
"Soon," Derek says, leaning down to kiss the top of Christian's head. "It's been a long time... they're all profilers, you realize, and worse than me."
"Do they all know my mum, too?" Christian asks.
"I don't think Emily and Rossi do," Derek says, walking around the couch to sit down beside Christian. "Hotch, Reid and JJ have worked with her before. JJ's the one who picks our cases."
Christian nods. "My friends are all insane," he says. "Without exception. Stephen's the sanest of the bunch, which should frighten you."
"We could always put the two groups together and see what happens," Derek suggests.
"Name the place," Christian says.
"Really?" Derek looks at him, kind of surprised. It's been a long time since he's liked anyone enough to think about inflicting, say, Reid on them. Longer since he's had a man in his life---at all, if he's honest---who wanted him to meet anyone.
"Sure," Christian says. "If you're willing to deal with crazy musicians, I can deal with profilers. I can always make Travis host it, he's got a huge house."
Derek smiles, a little shyly. "Okay. Maybe two weekends from now? With a few prayers that nothing urgent comes up," he says. "And are you sure about this? It's kind of a big step."
"You're the one who sounds a little unsure," Christian says. "We don't have to do this, you know."
"I... need to check on dinner," Derek says as the timer on the grill goes off. Literally saved by the bell.
Christian shakes his head, not sure whether to laugh or just be resigned.
The chicken isn't quite done so Derek flips the kebabs, adds more glaze, and tries to shut up all the little voices in his head telling him he's going to Screw This Up. He takes a few minutes to go set the table then walks back to the living room. "I like you, a lot, and it scares me," he says without preamble. "I don't do relationships well, or kind of at all, and there's not a lot that stays private when you work with, travel with, damn near live with, the same group of people day in and day out. If you don't like them or your friends don't like me, where's that leave us? What happens when you get sick of dating someone who's never here?"
Christian tilts his head. "I notice you don't say anything about your co-workers not liking me," he says.
"If Garcia doesn't like you, that's one thing. Or JJ," Derek says. "That means you're probably evil and need to be destroyed. Reid's going to be baffled and awkward. Prentiss is going to find a thousand ways to tease me while noticing that you're both adorable and have a great ass. Rossi can go straight to hell, and Hotch will either talk to you and twitch something like a smile or talk to you and just twitch."
"Okay," Christian says. "Here's hoping I pass the Garcia and JJ test. As for my friends--after the last two boyfriends I've had, let's just say you're sane, you're polite, and--anyway, they'll like you. If Travis offers to buy you a new car, he really likes you. Stephen will feed you brownies--trust me, you want them. If David doesn't like you, it's either that you're evil or he's being overprotective, but I'll try to get him over that."
"Sane, polite and what?" Derek asks a little warily. They've avoided the ex conversations so far, but he can make a pretty good guess at what's there.
"The next-to-last boyfriend I had cheated on me, and you don't know me well enough for the last one," Christian says.
Derek nods slowly, weighing his options. "He abused you," he says plainly. "I figured that out the first time we had dinner, or at least I thought someone had." He doesn't look at Christian, he can't.
Christian sets down his glass carefully. "What made you think that?" he asks.
"The way you reacted to me talking about the case. The way you subtly put yourself down. You get nervous when someone---when I'm behind you," Derek says. "That's what the profiler in me says. The rest of me... well, it's your business. You got out of it, and I'll be here if you need support around it, but I'm also thinking I'd be okay if I just got to be... got to be, I don't know, your boyfriend, lover, whatever."
"I did get out," Christian says. "Maybe at some point I'll be able to tell you the rest, if you want. Just not right now."
"Does it... it doesn't change how I feel about you, you know," Derek says quietly. "For one thing, it'd be hypocritical. It's part of your past, and if, or when, you want to tell me, then I'll listen."
"Okay," Christian says. "I think dinner might be ready, if the beeping is any indication."
"Right," Derek says, shaking his head and pushing away from the wall. "How are you at picking wine? Do you want wine?"
"I'm not very good at picking it out," Christian says. "I don't have much of a palate."
"Okay," Derek says, ducking into the kitchen and moving to turn things off. "The rack's in the dining room. Anything in the lower right hand corner, and, no, reds aren't supposed to be paired with chicken, but I don't care."
"Got it." Christian goes to find a bottle of wine.
Derek places the kebabs and rice into serving dishes and brings them to the table, taking a look at the bottle of merlot Christian's picked. "Let me guess, you liked the design on the label?"
Christian shrugs. "Didn't have much else to go on," he says.
"That's how I pick half of them," Derek says, mirroring Christian's shrug. "I research them once I get them home." He picks up the corkscrew and opens the bottle. "This one is supposedly a slightly sweet, lighter red with faint citrus notes and lower alcohol content. I think it's all a lot of fancy talk to say 'you just might get a buzz from something that tastes sort of like fruit.'"
Christian laughs. "I don't tend to buy much wine," he says. "When I do buy alcohol, it's usually tequila or beer."
"I just like the look of a stocked wine rack," Derek admits as he fills both of their glasses and takes his seat. "I usually try to pick up a bottle wherever we have a case. You can find local wines in places that have no business whatsoever producing them, like Kentucky. It had a really cool label, though."
"Was the wine any good?" Christian asks, sitting down.
Derek laughs. "It had a really cool label."
"Right," Christian says, laughing.
"No, it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't very good either," Derek says. "I have another bottle from the same vineyard that I haven't opened yet. I'm kind of afraid of it."
"If we do end up doing this combined party thing, you can bring it," Christian says. "Worst thing that happens is we turn it into mulled wine or wine punch."
"I think we should do it," Derek says, looking at Christian. "I'm not going to lie; it makes me nervous, but it's going to have to happen sooner or later if we keep seeing each other."
"Makes me a bit nervous too, but at least this way we won't be trapped with one or two people and they can all mingle," Christian says. "Saves some of the pressure on us."
"Except it means you have to put up with me for at least a couple more weeks," Derek says, scooping rice out onto Christian's plate then his own. "Are you sure you're up for that?"
"Don't be an idiot," Christian says.
"I'm not. I'm being insecure, and there's a difference," Derek says. "I told you, I don't do relationships, or at least I haven't for a long time. Just giving you an out."
"I'm not taking it," Christian says. "Do you want an out? Sure you want to put up with me?"
"I'm pretty sure I do," Derek says, picking up his fork. "Not quite ready to take you home to my family, but even that's only because I think they'd eat you alive."
"That would be painful," Christian observes. "I'm not so much into cannibalism."
"Metaphor, baby, just a metaphor," Derek says. "My sisters are kind of... overwhelming and my mom's going to want to know how soon we can find a surrogate and start giving her grandbabies."
"Aren't you glad I'm an only child?" Christian asks. "And you already know my mum?"
"Definitely," Derek says. "Although Carol's almost as bad as my momma. The first thing out of her mouth when I met her for the deposition was a series of questions about how our dates had gone."
"Of course it was," Christian says. "I'm sorry."
Derek shrugs. "I expected it and kept my answers short and to the point," he says. "Until she asked about sex and I just walked away."
Christian goes pink. "Gods," he says. "I'm going to strangle her."
"She did apologize, sort of," Derek says, kind of enjoying Christian's reaction. "She just wanted to make sure you were happy."
"She could have asked me," Christian says with a sigh.
"You would have strangled her," Derek points out.
"Or died of embarrassment," Christian says.
"Nah, you're not allowed to die," Derek says. "Not for a long time yet."
"Good to know," Christian murmurs.
"Eat," Derek says, gesturing toward Christian's plate. "We can plan mortifying things to tell your mother later."
Christian laughs and picks up his fork.
* * *
“Party at our house,” Travis determines as soon as Christian brings up the idea. He sprawls elegantly in the armchair, one long leg hooked over the arm, absently tapping away on his BlackBerry.
“The only reason you bought that house was to entertain, wasn't it?” Christian asks.
“That and the hot tub on the roof deck. honestly, do Kyle and I need that much space? I think not.” Travis grins.
“Yeah, you keep saying that, Travis,” Warrick says, coming back with two mugs balanced on one hand. He sets the English Breakfast down next to Christian and gives up one of the coffees to Travis before dropping down onto the couch. “We get it. You hosting, Stephen bringing food. Christian sacrificing the new boyfriend.”
“For all your books and his handcuffs? Yes, you do,” Christian says. “Hey, his co-workers are going to be there! Who's sacrificing who?” He looks indignant, glaring at Warrick.
Warrick raises an eyebrow and glares back, the effect completely ruined by the glint in his green eyes. “I’d take my chances with a bunch of FBI pains in the ass again before I'd go in blind meeting Travis and David.”
“I’m scarier,” Travis claims.
“And smarter from what I've seen,” Warrick says, earning an amused snort from Stephen even though it's not enough for him to look up from the blueprints spread on the coffee table.
“I don't think that's much of a compliment,” Travis says with a pout.
“Really, Christian, if you had to go for a Fed, you couldn't have picked a better agency?” Warrick asks.
“I wasn't intending to go for anyone at all!” Christian protests, slumping down on the couch.
“Mm-hmm,” Warrick says. “Well, it's about time you found someone, even if he works for a bunch of morons.”
“I've dated in the past year,” Christian argues.
“’Hi, I’m Christian and you are?’ leading directly to a backroom handjob isn't dating, honey,” Warrick points out.
“You had one--I can't even call it a one-night stand because it didn't last past the back room of the club, and one other one-night stand that didn't last past you finding your clothes in the morning. That is not dating,” Travis says.
“Yes, and you know why I haven't,” Christian says, fiddling with his ring. “You know exactly why.”
“I know, honey,” Travis says, getting up from his chair. “I know.” He gives Christian a tight hug.
“But this one's good, right?” Warrick asks, reaching over to rub his hand over Christian's back. “We're not going to have to dismember him after dinner?”
“You didn't dismember the last one, and yes, this one's good. Even my mum approves,” Christian says, releasing Travis to go back to his seat.
“We should have,” Warrick mutters..
Christian glances at him. “Let it go, Warrick,” he says softly.
“Christian, he beat the hell out of you, more than once. I think I can hang on to being pissed off about it for a little while longer,” Warrick says evenly.
“For four months and ten days, and then I got out. Well, with help,” Christian amends.
“We know. We were there, remember? And you can be okay with it, I’m not.” Warrick says.
“I didn't say I was okay with it,” Christian points out.
“No, but you don't like the idea of anyone else being angry about because it might mean we actually care about you,” Warrick says matter-of-factly.
“I don't like the idea of anyone else being angry about it because it won't change anything,” Christian says in frustration. “It's over, he's gone, that's the end of it.”
“So how many people am I feeding? And is anyone vegetarian?” Stephen asks, changing the subject and earning a look of gratitude from Christian.
“Kyle. Just make half veggie and half meat things and people can deal with it,” Warrick says, leaning back against the couch and draping his arm around Stephen's shoulders.
“But how many people?” Stephen asks, giving a quick shake of his head when Warrick starts playing with his hair.
“Um.” Christian thinks. “On our side, nine, and on his side, I think seven?”
Stephen nods. “I’ll plan for twenty, then,” he says.
“Which means he'll cook for thirty five,” Warrick adds.
Christian shrugs. “At least we'll have leftovers.”
“And I won't be able to get into the kitchen for three days before,” Warrick says.
“Are you just being bitchy tonight or is there a reason?” Christian asks impatiently.
“Who? Me?” Warrick asks in surprise.
“Yes, you,” Christian says.
“What part was bitchy? Knowing my partner well enough to know he'll cook for an army no matter how many people you tell him and that I'll be banned from the kitchen for at least three, probably four, days so he can cook? That's not bitchy, it's straight fact,” Warrick says.
“Probably only two, really,” Stephen says. “I mean, I'll probably make a couple of pasta salads and things, and those are fast.”
“But we'll say three just so I don't make a sandwich from the wrong thing or move something,” Warrick says.
Stephen laughs and kisses Warrick on the cheek. “I promise not to let you starve.”
“What do profilers drink?” Travis asks.
“I’m figuring margaritas and beer,” Christian says. Warrick thinks better of making any suggestions---like hemlock and absinthe, or the blood of newborn children--- hiding his smirk against Stephen's shoulder before he gets called bitchy again.
* * *
Derek sits down with a glass of wine, a cup of tea for Christian, Christian himself and a fluffball of a cat who thinks the back of his neck is the perfect place to drape herself and purr like a Harley. All in all, not a bad evening, except for the possible disaster of the next night.
"Tell me something," he says, moving his arm as Christian decides to lay his head in his lap. "How do I know who's who? Is there a photo album I can study? Gross disfigurements to be tactful about or extreme heights?"
"Hm," Christian says. "I have pictures on my laptop. Do I have to move to get it?"
"No, just tell me about them," Derek says, setting his glass down so he can run his fingers through Christian's hair. If he does it just right, he can get him purring as loudly as Mimi, which Christian will just deny.
"Mm, kay," Christian says, closing his eyes. "Travis is tall and skinny and fabulous. He and Kyle make a strange couple physically--on the one hand, you have Travis, who's six-four and has skin just a little lighter than yours, and then there's Kyle, who's six feet and looks like a recruiting poster for Middle America, I guess? All short blond hair and blue eyes and built like a Mack truck."
"Sounds less like Middle America and more like some of the militias out west," Derek says. "How'd they end up together?"
"Kyle does some volunteer work for the Maverick Foundation," Christian says. "Counseling for some of the older teens, I think. He went to one of their fundraiser galas, and Travis was there for obvious reasons, and they hit it off."
"Maverick, billion dollar corporation with military contracts," Derek says, tilting his head back before he remembers Mimi's there. She yowls at him and leaps down from his shoulder to Christian's chest. "He's an executive assistant to the CEO, right?"
"The main one, yeah," Christian says. "If you ask Travis, the other two are there to support him, not Gil. He's kind of got a point."
Derek nods, brushing his fingers over Christian's cheek. "So, those two, and then Warrick and Stephen are the other couple? The amazing cock-sucking architect and what does Warrick do?"
Christian laughs. "Stephen's the cock-sucking architect currently working as the pastry chef for Decadence," he points out. "Kinda looks like the stupid brother from Heroes. Not the politician, the other one. And Warrick is an assistant professor of forensics. Before you ask, they met in Las Vegas, where Warrick was working at the time and Stephen had gone out to do some design work for Lady Heather, and eventually ended up here."
"I think I've heard about Warrick," Derek says. "I mean, from Reid, not you. He thought about joining their crime lab but they've got a guy out there who gets kidnapped all the time. There was a rumor at the last big interagency training that they stuck a GPS chip under his skin after the third time."
"Yeah, that's Nick," Christian says. "He's like the designated punching bag. Stephen doesn't like him very much, but that's because Nick was kind of an asshole to him for a long time."
"What'd Stephen do to him?" Derek asks, watching as Christian's hair curls around his finger and then springs back when he lets go.
"Well, first Nick rearranged all the labels on Stephen's spices," Christian says. "So Stephen dyed him blue. He was blue for a week."
Derek goes still, running that back in his head. "I don't want to know," he decides. "I don't want to know and I don't want him near Reid."
"Probably for the best," Christian says. "The only other one you'll meet tomorrow is David, and he's the single one out of the bunch, at least at the moment. You'll recognize him by the jewelry, because he makes the third six-feet-or-over blonde we have."
"That's kind of disturbing," Derek says. "Out of the twelve of us tomorrow, five will be blonde."
"Okay, so I know two of your co-workers are blonde," Christian says. "Tell me more about them so I can pretend to know who they are?"
"One of the blondes will have on earrings big enough to use as bracelets, carry a purse that looks like it could double as a bowling bag, and has curves..." Derek makes a sound half-way between a groan and a sigh, the only true way to describe Garcia. "If she wasn't my best friend, she'd be the perfect woman."
"Ah, yes, Garcia," Christian says. "You've told me a bit about her. Fortunately for me she's not quite the perfect woman for you."
"Lucky for you," Derek says, leaning down to kiss Christian's forehead. "The other blonde lady, JJ, looks like she could be your sister. Big blue eyes, sweet smile, wicked sense of humor. She has a son, Henry, a couple months old, and he's almost as cute as she is."
"Will she be bringing Henry tomorrow?" Christian asks hopefully.
"No, Will's staying home with him," Derek says. "He just got back from a couple of days down in New Orleans and it sounded like he's not up for a party."
"Oh," Christian says, disappointed. "Well, maybe another time."
Derek smiles. "You like being around babies?"
"I do," Christian admits. "I tend to do well with kids."
"You ever think about having your own?" Derek asks, tracing the collar of Christian's shirt with one finger.
"Maybe someday," Christian says. "With the right guy, if I felt financially stable enough. You?"
"With the right person, yeah," Derek says. "That and when I'm ready to think about moving from the BAU. I know JJ and Hotch both do it, but I can't imagine having a family back here and leaving all the time. It's hard enough having a relationship, you know?"
"Mm, yeah," Christian says. "I'm on the road a bit myself, and I wouldn't want to do that with a kid." He stretches. "Who is Hotch? He's your boss, right?"
"Right, Aaron Hotchner," Derek says, smiling, pleased that Christian remembers these things. "He'll be the one who barely cracks a smile and still has on his tie. He's a little intense, but he's a good man."
"Who does that leave?" Christian asks. "There's one left, isn't there?"
"Technically, two, but Spencer's the one you have to worry about," Derek says. "Anything he might say about us sharing a bed, ignore it. He tells lies."
"Spencer is..." Christian thinks back. "The socially awkward genius who's younger than me?"
"He's a little older, but yes to the rest of it," Derek says. "He's not as awkward as he used to be. Hooking up with Lila Archer probably helped with that. Nothing like a hot actress in a little bikini to make you get your game together."
"I can only imagine," Christian says, laughing. "And the one I don't have to worry about?"
Derek's grin fades a little. "David Rossi," he says. "He helped start the BAU, retired and came back after Gideon left. We... I don't dislike the man, I just don't really feel a need to spend personal time with him right now and I think he feels the same way. Ask Garcia about him tomorrow; she's got some pretty colorful things to say about him."
"I think...I could be wrong, math's not my strong suit, but aren't you missing someone?" Christian asks. "One of the women?"
"Oh, damn. Emily." Derek grimaces. "Don't tell her about that. She'll kill me."
"I won't, but tell me about her," Christian says, laughing.
"Dark hair, bangs that were a bad decision, but don't tell her that either," Derek says, picking up his wine and taking a sip. "She's lived all over the world. Her mom's an ambassador, so she's used to handling politics and hates it."
"I won't, and okay," Christian says. "You guys have a varied group of people."
"You think so?" Derek asks, taking another drink from his glass. "I guess we do, but what makes you say so?"
"It just sounds that way," Christian says. "You guys are from all over, have such different backgrounds. Genius, diplomat, former bomb squad, whatever JJ is..."
"Small town girl turned FBI PR director for the BAU," Derek supplies. "The more experiences we have at the table, the easier it is to do our jobs, and the more skills available, the better. For instance, Reid and I can look at a ransom note and pick up completely different things from it but we might both be right."
"Oh, I'm not denying it's useful, just commenting that you work with a very varied group of people," Christian says. "As opposed to my friends."
"You love your friends," Derek says. "And you've got a musician, a corporate assistant, a dom, an architect-chef, a cop-turned-professor, and you, the rock star."
"The aspiring rock star," Christian amends. "And I adore my friends. They're wonderful people."
"I hope so, since we're spending tomorrow night with them," Derek says, covering his mouth as he yawns. "I think it might be bedtime for me. Are you staying up to work?"
"No, I think I'll go to bed with you," Christian says, sitting up and setting Mimi on the floor.
"I was hoping you'd say that." Derek stands up and holds a hand out to Christian. "You're spoiling me, you know."
"Why so?" Christian asks, taking Derek's hand and getting to his feet.
"I'm getting used to sleeping with someone," Derek says, pulling Christian close and wrapping an arm around him. "I miss you when it's just me in bed."
Christian smiles and kisses his cheek. "I miss you when it's just me, too," Christian says.
* * *
Part Four