Work Text:
Spencer has never particularly liked Valentine's Day. On one hand, it's purely a capitalistic holiday, one made to turn love into a selling point. Buy your girlfriend roses, go out on expensive dates, get your boyfriend a teddy bear he'll never touch again — spend, spend, spend. On the other, Spencer has never been very… adept in the ways of romance. Sure, he had his flings in college, but they never lasted very long; either he ended up fucking it up or the other person simply thought he was 'too much'.
The one relationship that did last longer than a few months was the one with Lila, and he's not sure how he even managed that. A long-distance relationship with his job schedule seemed impossible, but somehow he succeeded. And Lila had even kissed him first! She approached!
Unfortunately, it ended after Lila and him amicably split. That had hurt more than he expected it too, even though he had readily agreed to it — it was hard to stay in relationship while he was working, and she was a rising star. Still, he had loved her, and he was sad when they split.
To make a long story short: Spencer didn't have the best track record with relationships, which often meant he was alone on Valentine's Day. Usually, that wasn't a problem — he had his team to hang out with — but this year, all of his friends were busy.
JJ was on a date with Will — an expensive Japanese barbecue restaurant where they could both dress up, drink expensive soju, and grill their own food — JJ had been raving about it for weeks. Penelope and Kevin had volunteered to watch Henry for them, and, according to Penelope, they planned to rope Henry into the addiction that was Star Trek. Emily was reconnecting spending Valentine's Day with her mother, Rossi was off hosting a Valentine's party for some author friends, and Hotch had decided to spend the evening with Jack.
And Morgan…
… Morgan had boasted about his plan to go hit the club scene, find a pretty girl, and charm her into his bed.
Spencer had tried to ignore the dangerous curl of jealousy that bubbled up in his stomach when he heard that. It wasn't like Derek knew about the feelings Spencer had been secretly harboring for him for all of these years, and Spencer himself wasn't even sure if Derek liked men in that way — but those facts never eased the hurt that bloomed inside his heart every time he had to listen to Derek bragging.
Spencer shook himself out if his stupor, eyeing himself in the reflection of his T.V. screen. Penelope had insisted that he have one, for the sole purpose of watching Doctor Who and Star Trek on a "nice, big television screen" instead of a "rinky-dink projector". He had begrudgingly agreed to at least that piece of technology entering his abode.
He didn't have any big plans for the night… not really. He was just going to watch some documentary about bees or something, or some dumb T.V. show to numb the hurt in his heart, but he found it hard to even concentrate on the images flitting across the screen.
With a sigh, he stood, stretching his arms above his head to aid in the popping of his shoulder joints. Turning, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror he positioned above the side table next to his door, and blinked.
The lights of his house cast shadows on his eyelids, highlighting the hazel glow, and reddened his cheeks. He barely recognized himself, if he was being honest. He looked more like a girl than he looked like himself.
Wait.
A girl.
An incredibly stupid idea popped into his head, but before he could think twice about it, he had already grabbed his phone and dialed Penelope's number.
Derek wasn't one to drink super heavily — sure, he enjoyed partaking in a drink every now and then — but Buford had ruined any enjoyment he could have gotten from being blackout drunk, so he tried to avoid drinking in excess.
Tonight, however, was different.
He was on his fifth(?) drink of the night, nursing the edge of the glass as he swallowed down the sweet, burning liquid the bartender had given him. The club was loud, joyous, with couples dancing together as the speakers blasted another rendition of a famous Valentine's Day song he vaguely recognized. He is, quite obviously, one of the only people sitting alone at the bar.
Despite his early incessant bragging of his plan to woo a girl tonight, Derek wasn't actually intending to seduce someone. He couldn't, not after the sight he saw in the office today.
Sometimes he swears Spencer is purposefully trying to kill him. Derek had almost lost his mind when Spencer had walked in today with a new haircut, and he had found himself selfishly wishing that he was allowed to pin Spencer to the wall, kiss him stupid, all while tugging on those beautiful curls of his.
He shakes his head, his eyes trailing across the sea of gyrating bodies, his heart thundering in time with the beat of the music. He wasn't intending to attract anyone towards him this evening, but, of course, his luck seems to have run out, and he finds the seat next to him suddenly being occupied.
A girl slides into the seat, leaning over the counter as she waves down the bartender. In this lighting, he can barely make out her face — just the soft flush of her cheeks that has him assuming that this isn't her first drink of the night. Her bracelets jingle as she moves, glinting harshly, sending soft sparkles of light across the bartop. Her hair is pulled up into a half-ponytail, a pink star-shaped pin keeping her bangs out of her face.
Derek can feel his mouth going dry as he takes the rest of her in.
She's wearing a purple, cropped tank-top with an off-the-shoulder fishnet top thrown over it, and a pair of very short shorts that accentuate her figure; complete with a sparkly, purple belt that catches the light and a pair of thick, black boots.
Derek's been so busy staring that he almost misses it when the girl clears her throat.
"Like what you see?" she shouts over the music, and Derek can feel how his face heats up in embarrassment. Jesus Christ, he must be more drunk than he thought. He sees one beautiful woman and immediately starts ogling her.
"Oh, my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to stare!"
The girl smiles, extending her hand. "No worries. You don't look too bad yourself. My name's… Sssssamantha."
Derek lets out a boisterous laugh, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, and chalks up the slurring of her name to her being just as drunk as he is. "Well, hello, Samantha. My name's Derek."
"Nice to meet you, Derek," Samantha grabs her drink as it's slid across the table, tipping her head back as she downs half the glass, "what's a handsome man like you doing alone on Valentine's Day?"
"I could ask you the same thing, Sam. Can I call you Sam?"
"Sure," she responds, leaning over into his space so she can hear him better, "and to answer your question, my date skipped out on me."
Derek raises an eyebrow, doing another not-so subtle once-over of Sam. "He skipped out on someone like you?"
Sam lets out a huff. "He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, unfortunately. He's kind of… oblivious."
Derek swings his arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling her in as he gives her a wide grin. "You need to find a better man, Sam!"
Sam looks up at him, head tilting to the side as she scans his face. "Maybe you can be that 'better man' tonight."
Derek grins, sliding out of his seat and pulling Sam into the undulating crowd of dancers. It seems he's forgotten about his earlier hesitations.
Sam lets out a laugh, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as she stumbles. Without hesitation, probably due to his inebriation, Derek rests his hands on her waist, trying to keep her from falling.
It seems Sam received a different message. She swings her arms around Derek's neck and starts swaying happily to the beat.
"I love this song!" She shouts, beaming up at him, and his heart does a little flip in his chest.
The two start to sway in time with the music, both taking uncoordinated, but joyful, steps as they dance. Derek's hand snakes upwards, towards the small of Sam's back, tugging her forward as he spins the two of them around.
His leg ends up sliding in between hers, and he smiles down at her as he spins her out into the crowd. She tugs him forward, slipping one hand underneath his shirt as she uses the other to cup his neck.
He can barely hear her whisper over the crowd. "I've always wanted to do this."
Soft, plush lips press against his own, and a shockwave of warmth startles his system so badly that it forces his mouth open. Sam takes advantage of this, licking gently into his mouth as she deepens the kiss. Derek can taste the sweetness of her drink on her tongue.
Derek finds himself thinking about how Spencer's lips must be as soft as this. How Spencer must be as wonderful of a kisser as she is. How Sam's figure mimics the look and, what Derek assumes might be the feel, of Spencer's body. How Sam looks eerily similar to his best friend…
The realization slams into him like a tidal wave, and he shove "Samantha" back, his eyes wide with an indistinguishable emotion.
He stumbles back, excusing himself with a sorry excuse for an apology, making a beeline towards the bathroom. He pushes the door open, harsh, fluorescent white lighting making his head pound as he stumbles in front of the sink.
It can't be. There's no way. His mind is just playing tricks on him, trying to conjure up excuses to make his sick little fantasy seem not-so bad. His eyes water. Spencer wouldn't do that to him… would he?
The door swings open, and Derek's head snaps up.
There, standing in the doorway, is Spencer Reid himself. He's clutching the pink star pin in his hand, the ponytail holder sitting around his wrist. In this lighting, it was more than a little obvious that it was Spencer.
His disgust at himself quickly snaps into anger.
"Spencer, what the fuck?" Derek growls, hands curling into fists as he stalks forward, "How could you?"
"I'm sorry," Spencer squeaks out, "I was—I wasn't thinking."
"That’s right," Derek responds, shoving Spencer against the wall, "you weren't."
"I just—I just thought that if I d–dressed up like a woman, you would—you would actually be interested in me. But that was stupid, so stupid, I–I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that—"
Derek blinks, some of his anger dissipating at Spencer's words. "You thought I wouldn’t want you unless you were a woman?"
"Y-yes?" Spencer squeaks.
Derek huffs, shaking his head, his hand raising to cup Spencer's cheek. "For all of those smarts in that big brain of yours, you can still be pretty stupid."
"Wh-what—"
But Spencer doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence — not when Derek is pressing his lips against his, eyes fluttering shut as he savors this moment between them.
When Derek pulls back, Spencer is staring at him, eyes as wide as saucers. "Y-your not mad?"
Derek laughs. "Oh, no, I'm still very pissed off at you."
Spencer pouts, and Derek lets out another laugh, leaning in to peck Spencer's cheek with another kiss.