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geekystudmuffin2009-09-03 09:26 pm
innerslytherin) wrote in geekystudmuffin2009-09-03 09:26 pm
A Real Fixer-Upper, Morgan/Prentiss, NC-17 (2/4)
Title: A Real Fixer-Upper (2/4)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: 32,100
Summary: Morgan has a new house to renovate. He doesn't realize he's going to end up renovating his life right along with it.
Notes: Betaed by the wonderfulresolucidity
Part One
Derek kept telling himself that it was a bad idea to let his feelings for Emily Prentiss continue unchecked. He knew he shouldn't let himself mull over ways to let her know he was interested in more than just being the guy she called to get her out of a date, or grabbing the occasional beer after work. He wanted to be the guy she came home to, even if he'd never been a come-home-to kind of guy. He wanted...more.
A couple of weeks after he'd rescued her from her horrible date, he finally decided he wanted to go all out on the Arts and Crafts house, to try to really fix it up and make a good profit on it, if he decided to sell it. Maybe he'd keep it. It was a little big for just him and Clooney, but it had a lot of charm, and he really liked the back sleeping porch, which had been glassed in. It would make a great place to sit and read in the winter, when every bit of natural light was a treasure.
But it needed more than just him. A woman's touch would be good, and Emily had fantastic taste. Not to mention she'd expressed interest in seeing the house. So when they were walking out of the BAU together one afternoon, he brought it up.
"Hey, I was wondering if I could get your professional opinion on something," he said, glancing at her.
She glanced at him. "My professional opinion? What, on the Rucker case? He's lying. No man with that level of paranoia is going put a personal ad up on a site like that."
Morgan laughed. "No, your opinion as a professional woman. I want to do something with that Arts and Crafts house, but I don't want it looking like a bachelor pad. I'll buy you dinner if you come over and give me your opinion."
She smiled. "The womanhood thing is really more of a hobby," she said, then added, "Oh, come on, you don't have to keep bribing me with food and sweets."
"Oh, you mean you'd help me out just for the sheer pleasure of my company?"
"Well, you did promise to take me to the north pole," she said. "You going now?"
"Damn, you remember other things about that night besides the fact that I'm a great kisser?" Derek teased. He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. He knew he shouldn't, but after crossing that line in physical affection with her, he couldn't exactly turn it all off. "I was planning on it. I actually work on a house as many nights as I can. This one I've been taking my time with, just because I've been reading up on the Arts and Crafts movement."
She eyed him for a moment, like she was unsure, but then she leaned--just barely--into his touch. His grin widened. They were still in the parking lot at work; it was about as much as he could hope for from her here.
"You could have just asked Reid," she offered.
He shrugged. "Reid doesn't know about my properties. Anyway, despite what he thinks, I don't dislike reading. I just realize there's more to who I am than what I know. He's still figuring that one out." Of course, Derek sometimes felt like the team just had him around to tackle people, because Reid knew damn near everything, but most of the time, Derek knew better.
She nodded, and for a moment she looked like she didn't know what to say, then she nudged him. "Did you take the bike to work?"
"Sure did. You just want an excuse to cuddle up real close and put your arms around me, don't you?" He winked at her, wondering when she was going to get tired of this and give him a jab to the ribs.
"Maybe I just like the wind in my hair-- helmet-- the wind on my-- you know what I'm trying to say." She made a face and gestured vaguely.
Derek grinned and squeezed her shoulders affectionately before pulling away. He did know what she was trying to say, and it was ridiculously endearing when the otherwise self-assured and kick-ass Emily Prentiss got all awkward. He could never quite keep himself from hoping she occasionally got flustered around him because of an underlying attraction, but he usually tried to squash those hopes ruthlessly. Today he couldn't quite manage it.
"Come on, you can't possibly have anything better to do than help me work on my latest property," he teased.
"Did I give you the impression I wasn't coming?" She smiled up at him. "How about I get to ride on your bike in exchange for me buying you cheap, greasy Chinese, which we can eat on the floor of an empty house?"
"God, you really are the perfect woman, aren't you?" he said, shaking his head. "I really can't believe you're single, Ms. Prentiss." They reached his bike and he pulled out the extra helmet for her, then got his own on.
She strapped hers on, then tilted her chin up. "On right?"
A flash of heat went through him. The last time she'd asked that, he's kissed her, a slow lingering kiss that he could still taste on his lips the entire way to the ice cream shop.
"Yeah," he said, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat and forced himself not to kiss her this time. Especially in the middle of the parking lot at work. He took a deep breath and nodded, then got on the bike.
"Come on, baby," he murmured over his shoulder. "Let's blow this joint."
She gave a surprised sounding laugh and slid on behind him. "I like a dangerous man," she murmured into his ear as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
They picked up their Chinese and a six-pack of beer on the way to the house. This wasn't remotely safe any more, and Derek knew it; he was falling for Emily and at this point he was so far gone he was happy about it.
"Tour first, or food?" he asked as he led her into the empty kitchen and set their dinner on one of the built-in counters.
Emily was already looking around the place, and she was looking out at the back porch even before she'd answered. "Tour."
Derek grinned and gestured for her to follow her gaze. "So this is the kitchen, obviously. Back porch that way. Check this out, the porch is the width of the house, and the sleeping porch is directly above it, of course. Up there, the walls are almost completely glass from the knees up. I thought I'd build in some seats up there..." He trailed off and looked sheepishly at her. "I'm getting ahead of myself."
She laughed, her gaze warm when she turned to look at him. "Just a little," she said, then wandered out of the kitchen. "Okay, so show me. It looks great so far."
He led her around, showing her all the built in cabinets and grinning at her delight over the butler's pantry. He confessed that the stained glass window over the staircase was what had sold him on the house. When they got to the sleeping porch on the second floor, he could tell she liked it as much as he did, and she even agreed that the bathroom was the one room of the house that really needed updating from 1915 standards. The attic was still cobwebby and vastly dirty, with steamer trunks and a few boxes from the former owner stacked in one corner, but when he described his idea for knocking one of the walls out and putting in skylights, she agreed it would make a great office.
By the time they were back downstairs and in the kitchen, she looked thoroughly impressed, and Morgan felt a funny surge of pride at the idea. She peeked into their bag of take out, then looked back at him. "If I didn't have a two year lease on my apartment, I'd buy this from you myself once it was fixed up," she said, then picked up the bag and started out of the kitchen with it. Her expression was playful, and he knew without asking where she was going to suggest--no, lead them--to eat.
He couldn't suppress the happy smile those words brought as he followed her. "If you're not careful, you might talk me into keeping the place once I get it fixed up. I don't usually, but...this place is just...great."
"Hey, you should fix it up really slowly, so my lease is expired by then," she said, and grinned at him as she stepped out the back door.
"Hah, I'd be broke by that time," he said. "Unless you expect me to sell my house and move here while I'm workin' on it. I usually try to offload houses after just a few months." He shook his head. "This place is nothing like my usual projects. Way classier, for one thing. But the price was right, and I just couldn't pass this place up."
"Mmm," she hummed, and settled cross-legged against the back wall of the porch. She dug in the bag and handed him chopsticks and the box of food he ordered, then pulled out her own and started eating out of the box. "What are your other projects like? I always imagined you..." She gestured with her chopsticks. "I dunno, giving back."
Morgan chuckled and poked his chopsticks into his food. "Yeah, well." He knew it was funny, but it always sort of embarrassed him when people talked about him doing good things. He glanced out across the back yard. "I buy run-down urban houses that can be fixed, bring 'em up to code, make 'em a place you wouldn't be ashamed to live. Then I sell 'em to families." He shrugged. "People who remind me of mine."
He wasn't looking at her, but he could feel her smiling at him for a long moment. Then she made a happy noise, nudged his thigh with the back of her hand, and went back to eating. He was suddenly thankful that she understood him enough not to push the subject.
She glanced back in his direction after a moment, looking at the floor between them. "Did you bring the beer?" she asked, looking up and giving a grin that said she knew he hadn't.
"Heh, forgot it," he said. "Hang on, it's just on the counter." He stood up, wishing suddenly that he'd suggested a bottle of wine. Beer was great, but wine would have lent this just a hint of romance... Which is why it would be a bad idea, he reminded himself firmly. He went to get the beer.
When he got back upstairs, she had kicked her shoes off and had her food resting in her lap as she looked out across the backyard. God, she was beautiful. She was beautiful all the time, but it was great to get to see her so relaxed.
"Mmm," she hummed, her tone suddenly a little thoughtful, and maybe just a little sad. "Yeah, this house definitely deserves a family."
"Yeah," he said quietly. It was what he'd thought every time he'd nearly decided to keep the place himself. "Me and Clooney would just rattle around in a place this big. I guess I could sell it to Kevin and Garcia, if they end up married." He gave her a faint smile as he held out a bottle.
She breathed a laugh that wasn't overly happy, then took the beer. "Cheers," she said, toasting him.
He clinked his bottle against hers, then took a long sip. If he was completely honest, he wanted to keep this house. He wanted to keep it, and he wanted to ask Emily if she'd live here with him. And maybe eventually he'd want to ask her if she wanted to have kids. And yeah, so it was unrealistic and ridiculously romantic and all of those things he pretended he wasn't...but the thing was, he'd known Emily for three years now and he still wanted to spend time with her as much as he ever had. More than he ever had. It was ridiculous to have these childish fantasies about a coworker when he'd only kissed her as part of a prank. But he couldn't deny how attractive the idea was to him.
They were quiet for a while, eating and drinking, like something had settled over them. Morgan couldn't help wondering what Emily was thinking about, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to ask him the same thing, so he left it be. Eventually she sighed and put her take out box down, then drew her knees up. Her toes were red like her fingernails. God, he shouldn't notice things like that.
Finally he cleared his throat. "I was thinking about red for the kitchen. I'm a fan of real colors on the walls, not beige or cream, you know?" He glanced at her, then sucked in a breath and said, "How would you decorate this house, if it was yours?"
"Hmm." She shrugged. "Bohemian casual. Really well made furniture, like... single pieces that don't match, but fit together anyway." She pulled at the label on her beer. "Nothing like where I live now... Red's good, I think."
He nodded slowly. "What do you think about the living room? The windows aren't very big, so I thought something lighter would be better in there." He took another sip. "I don't usually do any decorating. I usually paint the walls some light colors and then recommend a dependable guy who can repaint cheap."
She nodded. "Maybe a dusky sort of green?" she said. "Or maybe not. All the green outside, the windows would just blend in." She thought another moment. "Pale orange? But then everything starts to look vaguely tinted red."
Derek stood up and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. Beers in hand, they wandered more slowly through the house, talking about wall and trim color, and assessing which rooms would need the wood floors replaced. He found himself talking to her like they were going to be living in the house, though he stopped short of actually using the words.
She padded along with him, still barefoot, and then stopped when they got to the kitchen to look up at an old light fixture hanging there. It was this old, dusty glass thing that Morgan had never really liked--at least not until Emily said, "That thing is awesome." She looked back down and smiled at him.
He smiled back at her automatically, then looked up at it. "I wasn't sure if it could be salvaged," he said, which was better than saying he'd been planning to replace it. What was awesome about it, he wondered. But clearly, it had to stay.
"It just needs to be cleaned." She reached up, then pressed onto her toes to touch a little design in the glass, but her fingertips didn't quite reach. She rolled back onto her heels, but pointed anyway. "The little detail."
"See, this is why I needed your opinion. It's obvious I wouldn't know what I'm doing without you here." He smiled up at the little details he hadn't noticed before, then moved on towards the butler's pantry. "I was thinking maybe of putting a wine rack in here along with the usual china and silver storage," he said. "And maybe a bar sink."
"Do you usually do this much, or do you just like this house that much?" she asked, leaning against a counter and looking at him thoughtfully.
He chewed his lower lip for a moment, then confessed, "I love this house." It made him realize suddenly that he'd spent the whole evening baring his soul to her, in a way. He'd shown her his passion, the one thing in his life that meant as much to him as his job and his family. And instead of criticizing it or pointing out that he didn't really know what he was doing...she was jumping in right beside him. She was suggesting things to make it better, encouraging him...
It had to be the sudden rush of confused emotion that brought that made him lose his head. A moment after that realization, he stepped closer to her, slid a hand into her hair, and kissed her. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, but God, she was irresistible. He cupped the back of her head and teased his tongue along her lower lip, and a thrill went all the way through him when she moaned and opened her mouth to him.
Her arms slid around his shoulders, fingers curling into the top of his shirt and making another pleased noise when the kiss deepened. Then he leaned in, pressing her into the counter, and that's when she tensed, sucking a quick breath in through her nose, then turning her head out of the kiss. Morgan's heart sank a little.
"This... this can't happen," she panted, breathless. Her arms slid away and she gripped the counter behind her.
"Sure it can," he murmured, letting his nose brush her cheek. "Emily, we're good together, you can't deny that." He knew they ought to resist, since work was an obstacle, but he couldn't fight the way she made him feel, not any more. And he didn't want to fight it. He could tell she was fighting it enough for both of them, and he also knew she was the Queen of Compartmentalization. He leaned in to her, teasing her with another soft kiss. "I know you feel this, too," he whispered.
"I..." She shook her head, just barely, more like she was stopping herself from talking than asking him to stop. She wasn't pushing him away. In fact, he felt her shiver when their lips met the second time. But now she wasn't responding and her body hadn't relaxed since she'd tightened up. "We can't," she said again.
He pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose, pulling away. "Why not?" he demanded. "Because it's scary to actually care about someone? You think I don't know that? Why the hell do you think you're the only person who knows about these renovations? Because it's scary as hell to let someone else in. But you have to, Emily. You have to, or you end up alone and lonely."
She huffed an unhappy breath. "You really think that's what this is about? Yeah, it's scary, but I'm not the one with commitment issues, Morgan, so don't even go there. This is about the fact that we work together."
"You don't have commitment issues?" Derek glared at her, hurt even though he knew her implied accusation was justified. "Right, you just have issues with acknowledging your own emotions, Prentiss! I guess I'm gonna be shoved in a little Derek-sized compartment and neatly labeled, huh?"
For a brief second, a hurt expression crossed her face when he used her last name, but it was gone in a heartbeat and replace with anger and determination. "That's not fair," she said, then repeated, "We work together."
"Yeah, we do," he said. "I won't pretend it's not an obstacle. But isn't it worth it to find out instead of just pushing emotions aside? Who else do you think is gonna put up with the kind of schedules we keep? Hell, you and I both know it was the job that ruined Hotch's marriage. Because we can't quit this job, not until it burns us out. But that's not exactly easy to explain to someone who doesn't do it."
"And what if it doesn't work out? What then?" she asked. "You know me. You know what I want. You've never shown any interest in any of that... but what? Suddenly you're willing to try for me? If that's the case, it's very sweet, but men don't change that fast, and women can't change them, no matter what some of them think." She turned and paced out of the pantry and into the kitchen, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"So I'm not worth it, is that what you're saying?" he demanded. Her words stung, but again, he knew they were justified. All the same, he followed her, angry. "I know I'm something of a fixer-upper. I know there are things I'm still working on, like trusting people all the way and opening up to people. It's not commitment that's the issue. I've always known that someday I want to settle down and have a family. Don't pretend that it's all my fault that you're afraid of this!"
"I'm not," she said, raising her voice too, though there was something in the tone that was almost shaky. She threw her hands up, then looked away. "I'm nearly forty, and you... you-- you don't have a good track record. I..." She clenched her jaw. "You have admitted trust issues, a history of messing around, and I'm... maybe it's not worth it--waiting around for someone to be ready to trust me, for someone to be ready for the things I want."
That stopped him. After a moment he clenched his jaw. "Yeah, maybe I'm not worth it," he repeated in a flat tone. "Fine. You just go on being scared and alone, then, Ms. Prentiss." He snorted and walked out to the hall. He'd been stupid to think she might be willing to take a chance. She seemed to be in love with her compartments, liking how easily people could be shoved into boxes in her life, and let no one ever cross the lines.
"Morgan..." she started, then trailed off and followed him. "I didn't mean you're not worth it. Some girl will be lucky when you're ready to..." She sighed. "Don't close up on me."
"Why not?" he countered, turning to glare at her. "You've already done that to me. How's it any different?" He knew he was worth it, even if he didn't know for sure that he wouldn't fuck up. It was just getting her to open up to that possibility, to give him a chance to prove himself, that was going to be difficult.
He let his gaze run down her body, not hiding that he was looking. God, she was so sexy, even when she was frustrated. Her feet were gorgeous. Something about the way she'd walked around his house barefoot showed that she did trust him, at least a little bit, and she felt comfortable around him. So why couldn't she let herself relax?
She crossed her arms over herself. "We're talking about closing up in different ways." She shook her head and waited until he met her gaze again. "I've been having a great time, and I love that you're opening up to me, and I don't want to lose that over some... ill-informed attraction."
Astonished, he actually laughed. "'Some ill-informed attraction'?" he repeated, staring at her. "Will you listen to yourself? God, woman, you are the sexiest, most beautiful, intelligent person that I've had the pleasure of spending time with. And you can't begin to pretend you don't feel this attraction between us. So don't give me that bullshit. You're just scared."
"I'm not denying anything," she said quietly. Almost too quietly.
"Fine. But don't think you can turn it off, either," he replied, lowering his voice to match hers. "This isn't going to just go away, Emily. Sooner or later, you'll realize that." He already knew it. He'd tried not to get close to her so he could protect himself from this very thing. It hadn't worked. Just trying not to give in wasn't going to work either.
"Sooner or later, you'll move on to someone else," she replied.
He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for having such a high opinion of me." He turned and started for the front room. "Where did you leave your shoes?" He wanted another beer, but he wasn't sure it was such a great idea. He ought to just take her home and they could go back to pretending this hadn't happened. Like that would make her happy.
She huffed an unhappy laugh. "Right. You don't get what you want, so you're going to shut me out," she said, and started up the steps quickly.
"You're the one who pushed me away!" he called after her, but he just folded his arms and didn't follow. He was sick of this argument suddenly.
"I shut down a romantic entanglement, not our friendship," she snapped, sounding upset again, and he could hear her moving faster across the floor.
"Fine!" he snapped back. He didn't know how she thought they were going to manage just being friends, but fine, if she wanted to try it, they could.
"Oh, well, don't sound so happy about it. If you don't think you can be my friend anymore just because I won't have sex with you, just fucking say it," she said, and then cursed. A moment later, he heard her stop walking and curse again.
That second one sounded different somehow. He climbed the stairs and moved towards the sound of her voice. "Emily? You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said.
She didn't sound fine, though, and when he got to her, she was sitting on the floor looking at the bottom of her foot.
"Hallway floor needs replacing. Did we say that?" she grumbled, frowning deeply.
He knelt down and looked at her foot, too. It was dirty from walking around barefoot all evening, and he could see a red spot that was welling up with a dot of blood. "What happened? Did you step on a nail?"
She shook her heard. "No, I think it's a splinter." She pressed her thumb into it, trying to push it out, then hissed and pulled her hand away. "Damn it. Don't suppose you have tweezers."
He pulled his pocket knife out. "Nope, sorry. We'll have to amputate." He glanced at her, grinning faintly, then pulled the tweezers out of the end of the knife. "Here, let me see."
She eyed him for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, propping her foot up on her opposite knee so he could get to it easier. "Be careful."
He rolled his eyes. "I'll be careful."
"I mean really careful."
"Emily..." He sighed and took her foot gently in his hand, then prodded at the red spot a little to see if he could get to the splinter.
She hissed and gripped his shoulder. "Ow," she said, and when he pressed on her foot to try to get a hold of the offending sliver of wood, her fingers went tighter. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow."
"Baby," he teased.
"It hurts. I'd rather be whacked with a two by four--ow!"
"Oh, man, it's almost big enough to see," he said, holding up the tweezers to display the splinter. It was actually bigger than that, but he couldn't resist. "Miz Tough FBI agent can't handle a splinter." Then again, this whole thing had gotten started when he fell off a ladder, so he supposed he didn't have too much room to talk.
Her hand hadn't moved from his shoulder, but she frowned. She was almost pouting, though, and it was sort of cute. God, he shouldn't think that anymore. He should never have allowed himself to think it in the first place.
"It's not that small," she said.
He shook his head. He didn't care whether he ought to think it or not, she was cute. She was the one who was trying to put their relationship in a neat little box labeled 'friendship', despite the fact that what they felt for each other was clearly more. "Come on, tough girl, let's get your shoes back on so you don't get any more splinters. You can come back after I've replaced the floor in here, if you're dead set on walking around barefoot."
She eyed him for a moment, then looked down at his hand on her foot. "I can?" she said softly.
He sighed, then said one of the hardest things in his life. "Yeah, of course. We're friends, aren't we?"
She nodded slowly, then chewed her lip for a moment without speaking. After a long pause, she looked back up at him and said, "You should tell Reid about this place."
"Tell Reid about it? So you're backin' out on helping me?" But he knew what she meant, and he thought his tone conveyed that. He probably should tell Reid about it. About a lot of things, really.
"Mmm." She smiled faintly. "You've said he's your best friend before," she pointed out. "This is the sort of thing you tell a best friend." Her tone was casual, and she shrugged, then started to push awkwardly to her feet.
"Yeah. He is." Derek stood and held out a hand to pull her up. She was right, Spencer was his best friend. Maybe it was time he started paying more attention to tearing down the walls inside him than the walls in his renovation projects.
She let him pull her up, then even let him help her out to the sleeping porch. He wondered if her foot really hurt that much or if she was reluctant to let him go. He wanted to think the latter.
The sun was setting over the horizon when they walked out, and she stood there and looked at it for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "It really is a beautiful house," she said.
He fought the urge to drape his arm over her shoulders, knowing she wouldn't appreciate it right now, even if he would have done the same if it was Reid standing next to him. "Yeah," he murmured, looking from her up to the house. "I think it has a lot of potential."
*****
Morgan didn't act on Emily's words right away. It wasn't easy to let go of years full of ingrained habit, the instinct to keep to himself about things. It was ridiculous the more he thought about it. Not in general, but with Reid anyway. Reid was the last person in the world that Morgan could think of that would use any of Morgan's personal business against him.
Things went back to normal at work with Emily, though he saw her a little less outside of work. It hurt, but he understood what she was doing.
He didn't like it. He didn't agree with it. And when she came over to help with painting the kitchen and had stood in the middle of the room with paint smeared across her face and old torn jeans, barefoot again, and her hair in the sloppiest ponytail he'd ever seen on her, he couldn't help but want to press her into the floor and worship her.
But he understood what she was doing in distancing herself and refrained... and prayed that she would eventually come around because he very obviously wasn't moving on.
A week later, he finally caught up with Spencer at his desk at the end of a work day, and leaned against the table, drawing a deep steadying breath. "You got plans?"
Spencer glanced up, then shook his head. "No, why?"
He shrugged. "Oh, I'm just working on a project, and I thought, if you aren't busy, maybe you could help me out? I could use an extra set of hands, and you're good company." It didn't come out quite as casually as he would have liked, but at least he got the words out of his mouth at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan saw Emily pause in what she was doing, then resume again, seemingly trying not to listen.
Spencer smiled faintly. "What kind of project?"
"Well, I got my hands on this old Craftman house--not a bungalow, it's bigger...damn, I can't remember what they call that floorplan. Anyway, I've been fixing it up, and I need to get the banister off the stairway so I can redo the stairs. And maybe I'll refinish the banister while I'm at it. You know, make it smooth enough to slide down." He offered Spencer a faint grin.
The grin he got in return nearly knocked Morgan's breath away. Damn, Spencer really needed to smile like that more often.
"Did you know that the name of the Arts and Crafts movement comes from a popular magazine published in the early 1900s by furniture maker Gustav Stickley called The Craftsman? Stickley was a furniture designer, but he was also an architect in his own right. Is it a newer house or an older one? Because we could do it up to the way it used to look if it's older," Spencer said excitedly.
Morgan's grin widened when he caught that 'we'. "The papers I have say it was built in 1911, so it's almost a hundred years old. I like the idea of restoring some of it historically, but I've updated the wiring, and I want to add a few modern amenities. Especially in the bathroom and the kitchen. But I can tell you already know more about the Prairie movement than I do."
"Not much, actually. I read an article about it in a magazine in a doctors office." Morgan took a moment to imagine Spencer finishing all the magazines in any given doctors waiting room in five minutes flat to the astonishment of other patients, and forced himself not to laugh as Spencer continued. "But I bet there's a ton of other stuff we can find... Wait, when are we going? Is it hardwood or carpeted? Probably hardwood, huh?"
Morgan laughed. "Mostly hardwood, though someone was misguided enough to add shag carpeting to the living room approximately three years before you were born, I think. And the upstairs hall is badly in need of new wood. Very splintery." He shrugged then, watching Spencer's face. "I work out there almost every night we're not on a case. I thought you could join me whenever. I wouldn't make you work on it every night, don't worry."
"No, I don't mind," Spencer said quickly, grinning again. "I could come tonight." He seem to decide maybe he sounded a little too eager, then added, "Or, you know, whenever you want me to."
"Tonight's fine, kid," Morgan assured him. "Tonight's great." He scratched the back of his neck, then added, "I have a couple of books in my car, so you could probably skim those on the way over, if you want to ride with me."
"Oh. Yeah, sure," Spencer said. "Okay, after work."
Morgan grinned. "Okay, let me know when you're done. We can grab something to eat on our way over."
Spencer had the books in Morgan's car read in a few minutes flat, and they talked about everything but work on the way to the house. When they got there, he seemed almost as impressed by the house as Emily was, and the tension from doing this at all slowly started to fade.
One they started working on the banister, it slipped away completely, like it always did when he worked like this. Of course, he normally didn't have Spencer chattering away about the historical reasons behind floor plans the whole time (he talked more than Emily did, but Morgan thought maybe he was just excited, and would calm down if they did this more often), but even that was amusing, at least.
At one point Derek looked up from the wood he was sanding and found Spencer rocked back on his heels, studying him. He cocked his head and dropped the sandpaper. "What?"
"There's something different about you tonight," Spencer observed, tilting his head at Morgan in return.
"Should I apologize?" Morgan joked, but then he shrugged. "This is how I relax. I just realized we haven't spent much time hanging out lately, and... I dunno, I thought you might like this."
"I do. You haven't told me to shut up once," Spencer teased, then smiled and went back to sanding. He was almost too meticulous, but Morgan wasn't about to tell him that. Spencer was quiet for a long moment, then finally said, "Have you been dating someone?"
"Huh?" Morgan stared at him. "No. Why?" It was technically not a lie, even if he'd spent a lot of time with Emily outside of work lately. It didn't count as dating, and she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he spilled his guts to Spencer, anyway.
Of course, if Spencer really was his best friend, Derek shouldn't be afraid to talk to him about that...
Still, the fact was that, regardless of the fact that Derek wanted to be dating Emily, he wasn't.
"It's Friday night and you're sanding a banister with me," Spencer said, his focus still on what he was doing. He was doing it on purpose, Morgan realized, trying not to make Morgan close up by watching him when he pushed. "Come to think of it, I haven't heard you even talk about... ah, hunnies in a few weeks." Spencer grinned, obviously knowing how ridiculous that word sounded out of his mouth.
Derek frowned thoughtfully and then reached out to close his fingers around Spencer's hand. "You don't need to take a quarter inch off," he said teasingly. "Just the old varnish." Then he went back to work on his own section. "I don't know," he said after a while. "I've been working a lot on the house, for one thing. This place is different from the others I've done." He glanced at Spencer, then when he was sure he wasn't going to interrupt, he shrugged and rocked back on his heels.
"And maybe I realized that I was spending too much time flirting and having fun, and not enough time on the people I really care about," he said finally.
Spencer turned and looked at him, his eyebrows lifting a little, and for a moment he didn't say anything. Then he just nodded, looking like he wasn't sure how to respond, though a smile crept across his lips anyway.
Derek cleared his throat. "You know you're my best friend, man, right?" He felt like he was going to choke on the words, but the expression on Spencer's face made them worth it.
Spencer's lips parted, then he half shook his head and stopped himself. "No-- I mean, I didn't know." He bit his lips together for a few seconds. "I'm your best friend?"
The words sent a pang of shame through Derek, though he pushed it away. Instead he smiled. "Of course you are. Why do you think I talk to you about stuff? I don't talk to Rossi or Hotch like this."
Spencer smiled again, his lips quirking to the side, and then he nodded. "I'm... glad it's mutual," he murmured, looking a little sheepish. Then he cleared his throat and moved down the banister to work on a new spot.
Derek's smile strengthened and he clapped Spencer, not too hard, on the shoulder. "Yeah."
***
Derek stretched, trying to reach the last unpainted spot in the living room without moving his ladder, and just at that moment, his cell phone rang. He groaned and gave up, climbing back down the ladder and leaving the roller on the tray before crossing the room to answer. It was JJ, and predictably, she had an emergency and needed the whole team ASAP.
"Figures," Derek grumbled. "I haven't done any work on the plumbing yet." She laughed and said he could get a shower in Cody. "Wyoming?" he retorted. "Do they have indoor plumbing there yet?" She just hung up on him.
"Hey!" Derek shouted, and heard an answering shout from the attic. "Wheels up in an hour! Get down here and you can ride to Andrews with me."
He quickly cleaned up the paint as best he could and stuck the brushes in a Ziploc bag. He could hear Spencer's footsteps thumping around upstairs, so he knew he'd been heard. He stuck the bags in the dorm fridge he'd carted over here now that the Craftsman house was becoming a second home to him and Spencer, and more occasionally Emily and even Garcia. There were leftovers from tonight's Chinese in there, and he grabbed it, figuring they could at least throw it away somewhere it wouldn't stink up the house while he was gone.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You coming?"
Spencer clattered down the stairs, a huge grin on his face. "Hold your horses," he said, clearly struggling to suppress his glee.
Derek just rolled his eyes and tossed a bottle of water to him. Spencer had fallen in love with the attic, and Derek had allowed him to have whatever he wanted out of the steamer trunks and whatnot. He'd even given Spencer free rein on the remodeling, as long as he took the planned skylights into account. As a result, Spencer was more like a ghost in Derek's house than a renovation partner, these days.
The fact that he was often covered in dust when he came out, like a fine powder, only added to the ghost effect. "You need to get the showers working. I'm gritty," he said, but he was still smiling. "We don't have time to go by my place, do we? I'll share my shower."
"You can shower in Cody," Derek said, repeating JJ's line. He ruffled Spencer's hair, dislodging a small snow shower of dust. "Whoa, and get yourself some dandruff shampoo, kid," he added teasingly.
Spencer laughed and tucked the bottle of water under his arm to try and brush off the dust from his hair and shoulders. "I don't-- Hmm."
Morgan laughed and shook his head. "Come on, I'll dump a bottle of water over your head when we get outside."
"I was going to say I don't think I've ever gone to work in jeans and a t-shirt." Spencer dragged his hand through his hair again and started for the door.
"Too bad we're not going to Quantico, you could impress all the girls. As it is you'll have to settle for shocking Rossi and Hotch." Laughing, Morgan had to duck Spencer's half-hearted smack before he could lock the door.
By the time they got to Andrews, Spencer had most of the dust out of his hair--and all over my seat, Morgan pointed out--and between them they'd made the leftovers disappear. They'd ended up having to stop by Spencer's apartment to get his ready bag, but Morgan hadn't allowed him time for a shower, and they were still bickering about that when they got to the jet.
The others were assembled and waiting for them on board, and their conversation ground to a halt at the sight of Spencer and Derek. Mostly, Derek thought, it was because of Spencer.
JJ turned to see what the rest of the team was staring at. "Wow," she said, glancing down at Spencer's slightly ragged jeans.
Spencer pressed his lips together, cleared his throat, then rocked on the balls of his feet. Rossi was appraising Spencer too, and Morgan saw Emily's smile widen into a ridiculous grin as she looked at them before she ducked her head and tried to hide it.
After a few moments of silence, Spencer finally said, "Is it really all that shocking?" He sat next to JJ. "I'll change when we get there."
"I don't know, I kind of like this look," Rossi said, and Morgan had to fight not to laugh.
"Sorry we're late," he said instead, and sat next to Rossi. "Catch us up?"
JJ let her grin fade and launched into the briefing, passing out the files to everyone. A few minutes later, the pilot informed them they were ready for takeoff.
When they got to Cody, they threw themselves into the case, though Spencer took every free moment he had to remind Morgan that he 'felt gross' even after he'd changed. Spencer seem to absolutely love the process, and even getting filthy. Staying dirty once he was done with what he was doing, even for an extra few minutes, seemed to drive him absolutely up the wall.
Of course, there was no time for showers as they started work on the case. Not until they got to the hotel that night. "Your face is going to freeze that way," Emily said in the elevator on their way to the rooms, but Spencer didn't stop frowning.
"Aw, it's cute and he knows it," Derek said, nudging the back of Spencer's knee with his foot. "Endearing and all that." Spencer reached back without looking and smacked him in the chest, but Derek just laughed.
Emily laughed too, and when Spencer headed the opposite direction from them when they got out of the elevator, she called after him, "Good night."
Spencer grumbled something, but kept going.
"He likes it," Derek said. "Really." He glanced at Emily, but tried not to let his gaze linger too long. He hadn't moved on, but he was trying not to let her know, since it would either make her uncomfortable or make him look pathetic. He had a feeling he wasn't doing a good job of keeping it a secret from her, though.
She was smiling at him. "You still have paint on you," she pointed out, then poked a spot on his elbow he'd missed that she'd been waiting to point out all day, apparently.
He raised his eyebrows and looked back at her. "And you couldn't'a told me this six hours ago?" He pulled her ponytail gently.
She made a dissatisfied noise and shoved at his arm, grinning. "What would have been the fun in that?"
"Apparently none, for you," he said, nudging her and grinning back. God, he had it bad. This was ridiculous.
She laughed quietly. "He looks like he's been more helpful than I have. I don't suppose he hangs out on the sleeping porch and drinks iced tea for hours on end." It was an exaggeration. She'd nearly cleaned up the butler's pantry on her own, getting rid of the clutter and cleaning, then starting on picking out paint and window coverings that they'd do last. She'd even proven she had a hidden talent with installing windows to replace the cracked panes, and was only waiting on help with the plumbing. He was glad she'd taken that room too; he'd been avoiding it after their aborted kiss against that counter.
Morgan chuckled. "Actually I've hardly seen him lately. He's been up in the attic doin' stuff. And by 'stuff' I mean 'things I am under pain of death not to ask about, because it is a huge secret'. I haven't been in the attic for three weeks."
She made a face. "I suppose as long as you don't start seeing farm animals, and he's not running a gambling ring out of there, that works. I thought you were turning it into an office."
He laughed. "No farm animals yet. I was gonna make it an office, but I'm not entirely convinced Spencer realizes he doesn't get to live there when I'm done." He winked; they both knew Spencer liked his apartment. "I don't know, it seemed important to him, and I figure he's learned everything he knows about remodeling from me, so he can't screw it up very badly."
She laughed. "You know what I love about you? You're so... humble."
"Yeah, I know. It's a trait I learned early in life." He draped an arm over her shoulders and leaned in a little. "Admit it, you think I'm charming."
She looked at him, smiling almost hesitantly for a moment, but she'd stopped tensing when he touched her a couple weeks ago. She inclined her head, then with the playful air of making a huge concession, she said, "You are charming."
He couldn't help that his smile was wider than it ought to be at that admission. "Yeah, you just remember that," he said, and nudged her lightly, then pulled away. "This is my room," he said, nodding at 212. "I'd invite you in, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. My heart is taken."
"Oh," she said, and nodded. Morgan told himself the disappointment she seemed to be hiding was in his imagination, then she tilted her head down the hall where Reid had gone. "Does he know it runs that deep?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. "Well, I was talking about the house, but I'm sure Spence will be happy to hear you think we make a cute gay couple." He snorted and slid his keycard into the lock. "Nah, I don't think he looks at me that way."
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "Mmm, no, I don't think he does." She hesitated for a moment, then looked down at the floor. "Sleep well," she said, and gave him a small smile.
Derek smiled at her for a minute, then lifted a hand to touch her chin softly, just a tiny brush of his fingertips. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, and turned to go inside before she could say anything else.
He heard her suck in a deep breath, but then she just said, "Night." Her voice seemed a little strange, but she just turned to leave too.
Part Three
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyPairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: 32,100
Summary: Morgan has a new house to renovate. He doesn't realize he's going to end up renovating his life right along with it.
Notes: Betaed by the wonderful
resolucidityPart One
Derek kept telling himself that it was a bad idea to let his feelings for Emily Prentiss continue unchecked. He knew he shouldn't let himself mull over ways to let her know he was interested in more than just being the guy she called to get her out of a date, or grabbing the occasional beer after work. He wanted to be the guy she came home to, even if he'd never been a come-home-to kind of guy. He wanted...more.
A couple of weeks after he'd rescued her from her horrible date, he finally decided he wanted to go all out on the Arts and Crafts house, to try to really fix it up and make a good profit on it, if he decided to sell it. Maybe he'd keep it. It was a little big for just him and Clooney, but it had a lot of charm, and he really liked the back sleeping porch, which had been glassed in. It would make a great place to sit and read in the winter, when every bit of natural light was a treasure.
But it needed more than just him. A woman's touch would be good, and Emily had fantastic taste. Not to mention she'd expressed interest in seeing the house. So when they were walking out of the BAU together one afternoon, he brought it up.
"Hey, I was wondering if I could get your professional opinion on something," he said, glancing at her.
She glanced at him. "My professional opinion? What, on the Rucker case? He's lying. No man with that level of paranoia is going put a personal ad up on a site like that."
Morgan laughed. "No, your opinion as a professional woman. I want to do something with that Arts and Crafts house, but I don't want it looking like a bachelor pad. I'll buy you dinner if you come over and give me your opinion."
She smiled. "The womanhood thing is really more of a hobby," she said, then added, "Oh, come on, you don't have to keep bribing me with food and sweets."
"Oh, you mean you'd help me out just for the sheer pleasure of my company?"
"Well, you did promise to take me to the north pole," she said. "You going now?"
"Damn, you remember other things about that night besides the fact that I'm a great kisser?" Derek teased. He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. He knew he shouldn't, but after crossing that line in physical affection with her, he couldn't exactly turn it all off. "I was planning on it. I actually work on a house as many nights as I can. This one I've been taking my time with, just because I've been reading up on the Arts and Crafts movement."
She eyed him for a moment, like she was unsure, but then she leaned--just barely--into his touch. His grin widened. They were still in the parking lot at work; it was about as much as he could hope for from her here.
"You could have just asked Reid," she offered.
He shrugged. "Reid doesn't know about my properties. Anyway, despite what he thinks, I don't dislike reading. I just realize there's more to who I am than what I know. He's still figuring that one out." Of course, Derek sometimes felt like the team just had him around to tackle people, because Reid knew damn near everything, but most of the time, Derek knew better.
She nodded, and for a moment she looked like she didn't know what to say, then she nudged him. "Did you take the bike to work?"
"Sure did. You just want an excuse to cuddle up real close and put your arms around me, don't you?" He winked at her, wondering when she was going to get tired of this and give him a jab to the ribs.
"Maybe I just like the wind in my hair-- helmet-- the wind on my-- you know what I'm trying to say." She made a face and gestured vaguely.
Derek grinned and squeezed her shoulders affectionately before pulling away. He did know what she was trying to say, and it was ridiculously endearing when the otherwise self-assured and kick-ass Emily Prentiss got all awkward. He could never quite keep himself from hoping she occasionally got flustered around him because of an underlying attraction, but he usually tried to squash those hopes ruthlessly. Today he couldn't quite manage it.
"Come on, you can't possibly have anything better to do than help me work on my latest property," he teased.
"Did I give you the impression I wasn't coming?" She smiled up at him. "How about I get to ride on your bike in exchange for me buying you cheap, greasy Chinese, which we can eat on the floor of an empty house?"
"God, you really are the perfect woman, aren't you?" he said, shaking his head. "I really can't believe you're single, Ms. Prentiss." They reached his bike and he pulled out the extra helmet for her, then got his own on.
She strapped hers on, then tilted her chin up. "On right?"
A flash of heat went through him. The last time she'd asked that, he's kissed her, a slow lingering kiss that he could still taste on his lips the entire way to the ice cream shop.
"Yeah," he said, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat and forced himself not to kiss her this time. Especially in the middle of the parking lot at work. He took a deep breath and nodded, then got on the bike.
"Come on, baby," he murmured over his shoulder. "Let's blow this joint."
She gave a surprised sounding laugh and slid on behind him. "I like a dangerous man," she murmured into his ear as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
They picked up their Chinese and a six-pack of beer on the way to the house. This wasn't remotely safe any more, and Derek knew it; he was falling for Emily and at this point he was so far gone he was happy about it.
"Tour first, or food?" he asked as he led her into the empty kitchen and set their dinner on one of the built-in counters.
Emily was already looking around the place, and she was looking out at the back porch even before she'd answered. "Tour."
Derek grinned and gestured for her to follow her gaze. "So this is the kitchen, obviously. Back porch that way. Check this out, the porch is the width of the house, and the sleeping porch is directly above it, of course. Up there, the walls are almost completely glass from the knees up. I thought I'd build in some seats up there..." He trailed off and looked sheepishly at her. "I'm getting ahead of myself."
She laughed, her gaze warm when she turned to look at him. "Just a little," she said, then wandered out of the kitchen. "Okay, so show me. It looks great so far."
He led her around, showing her all the built in cabinets and grinning at her delight over the butler's pantry. He confessed that the stained glass window over the staircase was what had sold him on the house. When they got to the sleeping porch on the second floor, he could tell she liked it as much as he did, and she even agreed that the bathroom was the one room of the house that really needed updating from 1915 standards. The attic was still cobwebby and vastly dirty, with steamer trunks and a few boxes from the former owner stacked in one corner, but when he described his idea for knocking one of the walls out and putting in skylights, she agreed it would make a great office.
By the time they were back downstairs and in the kitchen, she looked thoroughly impressed, and Morgan felt a funny surge of pride at the idea. She peeked into their bag of take out, then looked back at him. "If I didn't have a two year lease on my apartment, I'd buy this from you myself once it was fixed up," she said, then picked up the bag and started out of the kitchen with it. Her expression was playful, and he knew without asking where she was going to suggest--no, lead them--to eat.
He couldn't suppress the happy smile those words brought as he followed her. "If you're not careful, you might talk me into keeping the place once I get it fixed up. I don't usually, but...this place is just...great."
"Hey, you should fix it up really slowly, so my lease is expired by then," she said, and grinned at him as she stepped out the back door.
"Hah, I'd be broke by that time," he said. "Unless you expect me to sell my house and move here while I'm workin' on it. I usually try to offload houses after just a few months." He shook his head. "This place is nothing like my usual projects. Way classier, for one thing. But the price was right, and I just couldn't pass this place up."
"Mmm," she hummed, and settled cross-legged against the back wall of the porch. She dug in the bag and handed him chopsticks and the box of food he ordered, then pulled out her own and started eating out of the box. "What are your other projects like? I always imagined you..." She gestured with her chopsticks. "I dunno, giving back."
Morgan chuckled and poked his chopsticks into his food. "Yeah, well." He knew it was funny, but it always sort of embarrassed him when people talked about him doing good things. He glanced out across the back yard. "I buy run-down urban houses that can be fixed, bring 'em up to code, make 'em a place you wouldn't be ashamed to live. Then I sell 'em to families." He shrugged. "People who remind me of mine."
He wasn't looking at her, but he could feel her smiling at him for a long moment. Then she made a happy noise, nudged his thigh with the back of her hand, and went back to eating. He was suddenly thankful that she understood him enough not to push the subject.
She glanced back in his direction after a moment, looking at the floor between them. "Did you bring the beer?" she asked, looking up and giving a grin that said she knew he hadn't.
"Heh, forgot it," he said. "Hang on, it's just on the counter." He stood up, wishing suddenly that he'd suggested a bottle of wine. Beer was great, but wine would have lent this just a hint of romance... Which is why it would be a bad idea, he reminded himself firmly. He went to get the beer.
When he got back upstairs, she had kicked her shoes off and had her food resting in her lap as she looked out across the backyard. God, she was beautiful. She was beautiful all the time, but it was great to get to see her so relaxed.
"Mmm," she hummed, her tone suddenly a little thoughtful, and maybe just a little sad. "Yeah, this house definitely deserves a family."
"Yeah," he said quietly. It was what he'd thought every time he'd nearly decided to keep the place himself. "Me and Clooney would just rattle around in a place this big. I guess I could sell it to Kevin and Garcia, if they end up married." He gave her a faint smile as he held out a bottle.
She breathed a laugh that wasn't overly happy, then took the beer. "Cheers," she said, toasting him.
He clinked his bottle against hers, then took a long sip. If he was completely honest, he wanted to keep this house. He wanted to keep it, and he wanted to ask Emily if she'd live here with him. And maybe eventually he'd want to ask her if she wanted to have kids. And yeah, so it was unrealistic and ridiculously romantic and all of those things he pretended he wasn't...but the thing was, he'd known Emily for three years now and he still wanted to spend time with her as much as he ever had. More than he ever had. It was ridiculous to have these childish fantasies about a coworker when he'd only kissed her as part of a prank. But he couldn't deny how attractive the idea was to him.
They were quiet for a while, eating and drinking, like something had settled over them. Morgan couldn't help wondering what Emily was thinking about, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to ask him the same thing, so he left it be. Eventually she sighed and put her take out box down, then drew her knees up. Her toes were red like her fingernails. God, he shouldn't notice things like that.
Finally he cleared his throat. "I was thinking about red for the kitchen. I'm a fan of real colors on the walls, not beige or cream, you know?" He glanced at her, then sucked in a breath and said, "How would you decorate this house, if it was yours?"
"Hmm." She shrugged. "Bohemian casual. Really well made furniture, like... single pieces that don't match, but fit together anyway." She pulled at the label on her beer. "Nothing like where I live now... Red's good, I think."
He nodded slowly. "What do you think about the living room? The windows aren't very big, so I thought something lighter would be better in there." He took another sip. "I don't usually do any decorating. I usually paint the walls some light colors and then recommend a dependable guy who can repaint cheap."
She nodded. "Maybe a dusky sort of green?" she said. "Or maybe not. All the green outside, the windows would just blend in." She thought another moment. "Pale orange? But then everything starts to look vaguely tinted red."
Derek stood up and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. Beers in hand, they wandered more slowly through the house, talking about wall and trim color, and assessing which rooms would need the wood floors replaced. He found himself talking to her like they were going to be living in the house, though he stopped short of actually using the words.
She padded along with him, still barefoot, and then stopped when they got to the kitchen to look up at an old light fixture hanging there. It was this old, dusty glass thing that Morgan had never really liked--at least not until Emily said, "That thing is awesome." She looked back down and smiled at him.
He smiled back at her automatically, then looked up at it. "I wasn't sure if it could be salvaged," he said, which was better than saying he'd been planning to replace it. What was awesome about it, he wondered. But clearly, it had to stay.
"It just needs to be cleaned." She reached up, then pressed onto her toes to touch a little design in the glass, but her fingertips didn't quite reach. She rolled back onto her heels, but pointed anyway. "The little detail."
"See, this is why I needed your opinion. It's obvious I wouldn't know what I'm doing without you here." He smiled up at the little details he hadn't noticed before, then moved on towards the butler's pantry. "I was thinking maybe of putting a wine rack in here along with the usual china and silver storage," he said. "And maybe a bar sink."
"Do you usually do this much, or do you just like this house that much?" she asked, leaning against a counter and looking at him thoughtfully.
He chewed his lower lip for a moment, then confessed, "I love this house." It made him realize suddenly that he'd spent the whole evening baring his soul to her, in a way. He'd shown her his passion, the one thing in his life that meant as much to him as his job and his family. And instead of criticizing it or pointing out that he didn't really know what he was doing...she was jumping in right beside him. She was suggesting things to make it better, encouraging him...
It had to be the sudden rush of confused emotion that brought that made him lose his head. A moment after that realization, he stepped closer to her, slid a hand into her hair, and kissed her. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, but God, she was irresistible. He cupped the back of her head and teased his tongue along her lower lip, and a thrill went all the way through him when she moaned and opened her mouth to him.
Her arms slid around his shoulders, fingers curling into the top of his shirt and making another pleased noise when the kiss deepened. Then he leaned in, pressing her into the counter, and that's when she tensed, sucking a quick breath in through her nose, then turning her head out of the kiss. Morgan's heart sank a little.
"This... this can't happen," she panted, breathless. Her arms slid away and she gripped the counter behind her.
"Sure it can," he murmured, letting his nose brush her cheek. "Emily, we're good together, you can't deny that." He knew they ought to resist, since work was an obstacle, but he couldn't fight the way she made him feel, not any more. And he didn't want to fight it. He could tell she was fighting it enough for both of them, and he also knew she was the Queen of Compartmentalization. He leaned in to her, teasing her with another soft kiss. "I know you feel this, too," he whispered.
"I..." She shook her head, just barely, more like she was stopping herself from talking than asking him to stop. She wasn't pushing him away. In fact, he felt her shiver when their lips met the second time. But now she wasn't responding and her body hadn't relaxed since she'd tightened up. "We can't," she said again.
He pressed his lips together and sighed through his nose, pulling away. "Why not?" he demanded. "Because it's scary to actually care about someone? You think I don't know that? Why the hell do you think you're the only person who knows about these renovations? Because it's scary as hell to let someone else in. But you have to, Emily. You have to, or you end up alone and lonely."
She huffed an unhappy breath. "You really think that's what this is about? Yeah, it's scary, but I'm not the one with commitment issues, Morgan, so don't even go there. This is about the fact that we work together."
"You don't have commitment issues?" Derek glared at her, hurt even though he knew her implied accusation was justified. "Right, you just have issues with acknowledging your own emotions, Prentiss! I guess I'm gonna be shoved in a little Derek-sized compartment and neatly labeled, huh?"
For a brief second, a hurt expression crossed her face when he used her last name, but it was gone in a heartbeat and replace with anger and determination. "That's not fair," she said, then repeated, "We work together."
"Yeah, we do," he said. "I won't pretend it's not an obstacle. But isn't it worth it to find out instead of just pushing emotions aside? Who else do you think is gonna put up with the kind of schedules we keep? Hell, you and I both know it was the job that ruined Hotch's marriage. Because we can't quit this job, not until it burns us out. But that's not exactly easy to explain to someone who doesn't do it."
"And what if it doesn't work out? What then?" she asked. "You know me. You know what I want. You've never shown any interest in any of that... but what? Suddenly you're willing to try for me? If that's the case, it's very sweet, but men don't change that fast, and women can't change them, no matter what some of them think." She turned and paced out of the pantry and into the kitchen, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"So I'm not worth it, is that what you're saying?" he demanded. Her words stung, but again, he knew they were justified. All the same, he followed her, angry. "I know I'm something of a fixer-upper. I know there are things I'm still working on, like trusting people all the way and opening up to people. It's not commitment that's the issue. I've always known that someday I want to settle down and have a family. Don't pretend that it's all my fault that you're afraid of this!"
"I'm not," she said, raising her voice too, though there was something in the tone that was almost shaky. She threw her hands up, then looked away. "I'm nearly forty, and you... you-- you don't have a good track record. I..." She clenched her jaw. "You have admitted trust issues, a history of messing around, and I'm... maybe it's not worth it--waiting around for someone to be ready to trust me, for someone to be ready for the things I want."
That stopped him. After a moment he clenched his jaw. "Yeah, maybe I'm not worth it," he repeated in a flat tone. "Fine. You just go on being scared and alone, then, Ms. Prentiss." He snorted and walked out to the hall. He'd been stupid to think she might be willing to take a chance. She seemed to be in love with her compartments, liking how easily people could be shoved into boxes in her life, and let no one ever cross the lines.
"Morgan..." she started, then trailed off and followed him. "I didn't mean you're not worth it. Some girl will be lucky when you're ready to..." She sighed. "Don't close up on me."
"Why not?" he countered, turning to glare at her. "You've already done that to me. How's it any different?" He knew he was worth it, even if he didn't know for sure that he wouldn't fuck up. It was just getting her to open up to that possibility, to give him a chance to prove himself, that was going to be difficult.
He let his gaze run down her body, not hiding that he was looking. God, she was so sexy, even when she was frustrated. Her feet were gorgeous. Something about the way she'd walked around his house barefoot showed that she did trust him, at least a little bit, and she felt comfortable around him. So why couldn't she let herself relax?
She crossed her arms over herself. "We're talking about closing up in different ways." She shook her head and waited until he met her gaze again. "I've been having a great time, and I love that you're opening up to me, and I don't want to lose that over some... ill-informed attraction."
Astonished, he actually laughed. "'Some ill-informed attraction'?" he repeated, staring at her. "Will you listen to yourself? God, woman, you are the sexiest, most beautiful, intelligent person that I've had the pleasure of spending time with. And you can't begin to pretend you don't feel this attraction between us. So don't give me that bullshit. You're just scared."
"I'm not denying anything," she said quietly. Almost too quietly.
"Fine. But don't think you can turn it off, either," he replied, lowering his voice to match hers. "This isn't going to just go away, Emily. Sooner or later, you'll realize that." He already knew it. He'd tried not to get close to her so he could protect himself from this very thing. It hadn't worked. Just trying not to give in wasn't going to work either.
"Sooner or later, you'll move on to someone else," she replied.
He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for having such a high opinion of me." He turned and started for the front room. "Where did you leave your shoes?" He wanted another beer, but he wasn't sure it was such a great idea. He ought to just take her home and they could go back to pretending this hadn't happened. Like that would make her happy.
She huffed an unhappy laugh. "Right. You don't get what you want, so you're going to shut me out," she said, and started up the steps quickly.
"You're the one who pushed me away!" he called after her, but he just folded his arms and didn't follow. He was sick of this argument suddenly.
"I shut down a romantic entanglement, not our friendship," she snapped, sounding upset again, and he could hear her moving faster across the floor.
"Fine!" he snapped back. He didn't know how she thought they were going to manage just being friends, but fine, if she wanted to try it, they could.
"Oh, well, don't sound so happy about it. If you don't think you can be my friend anymore just because I won't have sex with you, just fucking say it," she said, and then cursed. A moment later, he heard her stop walking and curse again.
That second one sounded different somehow. He climbed the stairs and moved towards the sound of her voice. "Emily? You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said.
She didn't sound fine, though, and when he got to her, she was sitting on the floor looking at the bottom of her foot.
"Hallway floor needs replacing. Did we say that?" she grumbled, frowning deeply.
He knelt down and looked at her foot, too. It was dirty from walking around barefoot all evening, and he could see a red spot that was welling up with a dot of blood. "What happened? Did you step on a nail?"
She shook her heard. "No, I think it's a splinter." She pressed her thumb into it, trying to push it out, then hissed and pulled her hand away. "Damn it. Don't suppose you have tweezers."
He pulled his pocket knife out. "Nope, sorry. We'll have to amputate." He glanced at her, grinning faintly, then pulled the tweezers out of the end of the knife. "Here, let me see."
She eyed him for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, propping her foot up on her opposite knee so he could get to it easier. "Be careful."
He rolled his eyes. "I'll be careful."
"I mean really careful."
"Emily..." He sighed and took her foot gently in his hand, then prodded at the red spot a little to see if he could get to the splinter.
She hissed and gripped his shoulder. "Ow," she said, and when he pressed on her foot to try to get a hold of the offending sliver of wood, her fingers went tighter. "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow."
"Baby," he teased.
"It hurts. I'd rather be whacked with a two by four--ow!"
"Oh, man, it's almost big enough to see," he said, holding up the tweezers to display the splinter. It was actually bigger than that, but he couldn't resist. "Miz Tough FBI agent can't handle a splinter." Then again, this whole thing had gotten started when he fell off a ladder, so he supposed he didn't have too much room to talk.
Her hand hadn't moved from his shoulder, but she frowned. She was almost pouting, though, and it was sort of cute. God, he shouldn't think that anymore. He should never have allowed himself to think it in the first place.
"It's not that small," she said.
He shook his head. He didn't care whether he ought to think it or not, she was cute. She was the one who was trying to put their relationship in a neat little box labeled 'friendship', despite the fact that what they felt for each other was clearly more. "Come on, tough girl, let's get your shoes back on so you don't get any more splinters. You can come back after I've replaced the floor in here, if you're dead set on walking around barefoot."
She eyed him for a moment, then looked down at his hand on her foot. "I can?" she said softly.
He sighed, then said one of the hardest things in his life. "Yeah, of course. We're friends, aren't we?"
She nodded slowly, then chewed her lip for a moment without speaking. After a long pause, she looked back up at him and said, "You should tell Reid about this place."
"Tell Reid about it? So you're backin' out on helping me?" But he knew what she meant, and he thought his tone conveyed that. He probably should tell Reid about it. About a lot of things, really.
"Mmm." She smiled faintly. "You've said he's your best friend before," she pointed out. "This is the sort of thing you tell a best friend." Her tone was casual, and she shrugged, then started to push awkwardly to her feet.
"Yeah. He is." Derek stood and held out a hand to pull her up. She was right, Spencer was his best friend. Maybe it was time he started paying more attention to tearing down the walls inside him than the walls in his renovation projects.
She let him pull her up, then even let him help her out to the sleeping porch. He wondered if her foot really hurt that much or if she was reluctant to let him go. He wanted to think the latter.
The sun was setting over the horizon when they walked out, and she stood there and looked at it for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "It really is a beautiful house," she said.
He fought the urge to drape his arm over her shoulders, knowing she wouldn't appreciate it right now, even if he would have done the same if it was Reid standing next to him. "Yeah," he murmured, looking from her up to the house. "I think it has a lot of potential."
*****
Morgan didn't act on Emily's words right away. It wasn't easy to let go of years full of ingrained habit, the instinct to keep to himself about things. It was ridiculous the more he thought about it. Not in general, but with Reid anyway. Reid was the last person in the world that Morgan could think of that would use any of Morgan's personal business against him.
Things went back to normal at work with Emily, though he saw her a little less outside of work. It hurt, but he understood what she was doing.
He didn't like it. He didn't agree with it. And when she came over to help with painting the kitchen and had stood in the middle of the room with paint smeared across her face and old torn jeans, barefoot again, and her hair in the sloppiest ponytail he'd ever seen on her, he couldn't help but want to press her into the floor and worship her.
But he understood what she was doing in distancing herself and refrained... and prayed that she would eventually come around because he very obviously wasn't moving on.
A week later, he finally caught up with Spencer at his desk at the end of a work day, and leaned against the table, drawing a deep steadying breath. "You got plans?"
Spencer glanced up, then shook his head. "No, why?"
He shrugged. "Oh, I'm just working on a project, and I thought, if you aren't busy, maybe you could help me out? I could use an extra set of hands, and you're good company." It didn't come out quite as casually as he would have liked, but at least he got the words out of his mouth at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan saw Emily pause in what she was doing, then resume again, seemingly trying not to listen.
Spencer smiled faintly. "What kind of project?"
"Well, I got my hands on this old Craftman house--not a bungalow, it's bigger...damn, I can't remember what they call that floorplan. Anyway, I've been fixing it up, and I need to get the banister off the stairway so I can redo the stairs. And maybe I'll refinish the banister while I'm at it. You know, make it smooth enough to slide down." He offered Spencer a faint grin.
The grin he got in return nearly knocked Morgan's breath away. Damn, Spencer really needed to smile like that more often.
"Did you know that the name of the Arts and Crafts movement comes from a popular magazine published in the early 1900s by furniture maker Gustav Stickley called The Craftsman? Stickley was a furniture designer, but he was also an architect in his own right. Is it a newer house or an older one? Because we could do it up to the way it used to look if it's older," Spencer said excitedly.
Morgan's grin widened when he caught that 'we'. "The papers I have say it was built in 1911, so it's almost a hundred years old. I like the idea of restoring some of it historically, but I've updated the wiring, and I want to add a few modern amenities. Especially in the bathroom and the kitchen. But I can tell you already know more about the Prairie movement than I do."
"Not much, actually. I read an article about it in a magazine in a doctors office." Morgan took a moment to imagine Spencer finishing all the magazines in any given doctors waiting room in five minutes flat to the astonishment of other patients, and forced himself not to laugh as Spencer continued. "But I bet there's a ton of other stuff we can find... Wait, when are we going? Is it hardwood or carpeted? Probably hardwood, huh?"
Morgan laughed. "Mostly hardwood, though someone was misguided enough to add shag carpeting to the living room approximately three years before you were born, I think. And the upstairs hall is badly in need of new wood. Very splintery." He shrugged then, watching Spencer's face. "I work out there almost every night we're not on a case. I thought you could join me whenever. I wouldn't make you work on it every night, don't worry."
"No, I don't mind," Spencer said quickly, grinning again. "I could come tonight." He seem to decide maybe he sounded a little too eager, then added, "Or, you know, whenever you want me to."
"Tonight's fine, kid," Morgan assured him. "Tonight's great." He scratched the back of his neck, then added, "I have a couple of books in my car, so you could probably skim those on the way over, if you want to ride with me."
"Oh. Yeah, sure," Spencer said. "Okay, after work."
Morgan grinned. "Okay, let me know when you're done. We can grab something to eat on our way over."
Spencer had the books in Morgan's car read in a few minutes flat, and they talked about everything but work on the way to the house. When they got there, he seemed almost as impressed by the house as Emily was, and the tension from doing this at all slowly started to fade.
One they started working on the banister, it slipped away completely, like it always did when he worked like this. Of course, he normally didn't have Spencer chattering away about the historical reasons behind floor plans the whole time (he talked more than Emily did, but Morgan thought maybe he was just excited, and would calm down if they did this more often), but even that was amusing, at least.
At one point Derek looked up from the wood he was sanding and found Spencer rocked back on his heels, studying him. He cocked his head and dropped the sandpaper. "What?"
"There's something different about you tonight," Spencer observed, tilting his head at Morgan in return.
"Should I apologize?" Morgan joked, but then he shrugged. "This is how I relax. I just realized we haven't spent much time hanging out lately, and... I dunno, I thought you might like this."
"I do. You haven't told me to shut up once," Spencer teased, then smiled and went back to sanding. He was almost too meticulous, but Morgan wasn't about to tell him that. Spencer was quiet for a long moment, then finally said, "Have you been dating someone?"
"Huh?" Morgan stared at him. "No. Why?" It was technically not a lie, even if he'd spent a lot of time with Emily outside of work lately. It didn't count as dating, and she probably wouldn't appreciate it if he spilled his guts to Spencer, anyway.
Of course, if Spencer really was his best friend, Derek shouldn't be afraid to talk to him about that...
Still, the fact was that, regardless of the fact that Derek wanted to be dating Emily, he wasn't.
"It's Friday night and you're sanding a banister with me," Spencer said, his focus still on what he was doing. He was doing it on purpose, Morgan realized, trying not to make Morgan close up by watching him when he pushed. "Come to think of it, I haven't heard you even talk about... ah, hunnies in a few weeks." Spencer grinned, obviously knowing how ridiculous that word sounded out of his mouth.
Derek frowned thoughtfully and then reached out to close his fingers around Spencer's hand. "You don't need to take a quarter inch off," he said teasingly. "Just the old varnish." Then he went back to work on his own section. "I don't know," he said after a while. "I've been working a lot on the house, for one thing. This place is different from the others I've done." He glanced at Spencer, then when he was sure he wasn't going to interrupt, he shrugged and rocked back on his heels.
"And maybe I realized that I was spending too much time flirting and having fun, and not enough time on the people I really care about," he said finally.
Spencer turned and looked at him, his eyebrows lifting a little, and for a moment he didn't say anything. Then he just nodded, looking like he wasn't sure how to respond, though a smile crept across his lips anyway.
Derek cleared his throat. "You know you're my best friend, man, right?" He felt like he was going to choke on the words, but the expression on Spencer's face made them worth it.
Spencer's lips parted, then he half shook his head and stopped himself. "No-- I mean, I didn't know." He bit his lips together for a few seconds. "I'm your best friend?"
The words sent a pang of shame through Derek, though he pushed it away. Instead he smiled. "Of course you are. Why do you think I talk to you about stuff? I don't talk to Rossi or Hotch like this."
Spencer smiled again, his lips quirking to the side, and then he nodded. "I'm... glad it's mutual," he murmured, looking a little sheepish. Then he cleared his throat and moved down the banister to work on a new spot.
Derek's smile strengthened and he clapped Spencer, not too hard, on the shoulder. "Yeah."
***
Derek stretched, trying to reach the last unpainted spot in the living room without moving his ladder, and just at that moment, his cell phone rang. He groaned and gave up, climbing back down the ladder and leaving the roller on the tray before crossing the room to answer. It was JJ, and predictably, she had an emergency and needed the whole team ASAP.
"Figures," Derek grumbled. "I haven't done any work on the plumbing yet." She laughed and said he could get a shower in Cody. "Wyoming?" he retorted. "Do they have indoor plumbing there yet?" She just hung up on him.
"Hey!" Derek shouted, and heard an answering shout from the attic. "Wheels up in an hour! Get down here and you can ride to Andrews with me."
He quickly cleaned up the paint as best he could and stuck the brushes in a Ziploc bag. He could hear Spencer's footsteps thumping around upstairs, so he knew he'd been heard. He stuck the bags in the dorm fridge he'd carted over here now that the Craftsman house was becoming a second home to him and Spencer, and more occasionally Emily and even Garcia. There were leftovers from tonight's Chinese in there, and he grabbed it, figuring they could at least throw it away somewhere it wouldn't stink up the house while he was gone.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You coming?"
Spencer clattered down the stairs, a huge grin on his face. "Hold your horses," he said, clearly struggling to suppress his glee.
Derek just rolled his eyes and tossed a bottle of water to him. Spencer had fallen in love with the attic, and Derek had allowed him to have whatever he wanted out of the steamer trunks and whatnot. He'd even given Spencer free rein on the remodeling, as long as he took the planned skylights into account. As a result, Spencer was more like a ghost in Derek's house than a renovation partner, these days.
The fact that he was often covered in dust when he came out, like a fine powder, only added to the ghost effect. "You need to get the showers working. I'm gritty," he said, but he was still smiling. "We don't have time to go by my place, do we? I'll share my shower."
"You can shower in Cody," Derek said, repeating JJ's line. He ruffled Spencer's hair, dislodging a small snow shower of dust. "Whoa, and get yourself some dandruff shampoo, kid," he added teasingly.
Spencer laughed and tucked the bottle of water under his arm to try and brush off the dust from his hair and shoulders. "I don't-- Hmm."
Morgan laughed and shook his head. "Come on, I'll dump a bottle of water over your head when we get outside."
"I was going to say I don't think I've ever gone to work in jeans and a t-shirt." Spencer dragged his hand through his hair again and started for the door.
"Too bad we're not going to Quantico, you could impress all the girls. As it is you'll have to settle for shocking Rossi and Hotch." Laughing, Morgan had to duck Spencer's half-hearted smack before he could lock the door.
By the time they got to Andrews, Spencer had most of the dust out of his hair--and all over my seat, Morgan pointed out--and between them they'd made the leftovers disappear. They'd ended up having to stop by Spencer's apartment to get his ready bag, but Morgan hadn't allowed him time for a shower, and they were still bickering about that when they got to the jet.
The others were assembled and waiting for them on board, and their conversation ground to a halt at the sight of Spencer and Derek. Mostly, Derek thought, it was because of Spencer.
JJ turned to see what the rest of the team was staring at. "Wow," she said, glancing down at Spencer's slightly ragged jeans.
Spencer pressed his lips together, cleared his throat, then rocked on the balls of his feet. Rossi was appraising Spencer too, and Morgan saw Emily's smile widen into a ridiculous grin as she looked at them before she ducked her head and tried to hide it.
After a few moments of silence, Spencer finally said, "Is it really all that shocking?" He sat next to JJ. "I'll change when we get there."
"I don't know, I kind of like this look," Rossi said, and Morgan had to fight not to laugh.
"Sorry we're late," he said instead, and sat next to Rossi. "Catch us up?"
JJ let her grin fade and launched into the briefing, passing out the files to everyone. A few minutes later, the pilot informed them they were ready for takeoff.
When they got to Cody, they threw themselves into the case, though Spencer took every free moment he had to remind Morgan that he 'felt gross' even after he'd changed. Spencer seem to absolutely love the process, and even getting filthy. Staying dirty once he was done with what he was doing, even for an extra few minutes, seemed to drive him absolutely up the wall.
Of course, there was no time for showers as they started work on the case. Not until they got to the hotel that night. "Your face is going to freeze that way," Emily said in the elevator on their way to the rooms, but Spencer didn't stop frowning.
"Aw, it's cute and he knows it," Derek said, nudging the back of Spencer's knee with his foot. "Endearing and all that." Spencer reached back without looking and smacked him in the chest, but Derek just laughed.
Emily laughed too, and when Spencer headed the opposite direction from them when they got out of the elevator, she called after him, "Good night."
Spencer grumbled something, but kept going.
"He likes it," Derek said. "Really." He glanced at Emily, but tried not to let his gaze linger too long. He hadn't moved on, but he was trying not to let her know, since it would either make her uncomfortable or make him look pathetic. He had a feeling he wasn't doing a good job of keeping it a secret from her, though.
She was smiling at him. "You still have paint on you," she pointed out, then poked a spot on his elbow he'd missed that she'd been waiting to point out all day, apparently.
He raised his eyebrows and looked back at her. "And you couldn't'a told me this six hours ago?" He pulled her ponytail gently.
She made a dissatisfied noise and shoved at his arm, grinning. "What would have been the fun in that?"
"Apparently none, for you," he said, nudging her and grinning back. God, he had it bad. This was ridiculous.
She laughed quietly. "He looks like he's been more helpful than I have. I don't suppose he hangs out on the sleeping porch and drinks iced tea for hours on end." It was an exaggeration. She'd nearly cleaned up the butler's pantry on her own, getting rid of the clutter and cleaning, then starting on picking out paint and window coverings that they'd do last. She'd even proven she had a hidden talent with installing windows to replace the cracked panes, and was only waiting on help with the plumbing. He was glad she'd taken that room too; he'd been avoiding it after their aborted kiss against that counter.
Morgan chuckled. "Actually I've hardly seen him lately. He's been up in the attic doin' stuff. And by 'stuff' I mean 'things I am under pain of death not to ask about, because it is a huge secret'. I haven't been in the attic for three weeks."
She made a face. "I suppose as long as you don't start seeing farm animals, and he's not running a gambling ring out of there, that works. I thought you were turning it into an office."
He laughed. "No farm animals yet. I was gonna make it an office, but I'm not entirely convinced Spencer realizes he doesn't get to live there when I'm done." He winked; they both knew Spencer liked his apartment. "I don't know, it seemed important to him, and I figure he's learned everything he knows about remodeling from me, so he can't screw it up very badly."
She laughed. "You know what I love about you? You're so... humble."
"Yeah, I know. It's a trait I learned early in life." He draped an arm over her shoulders and leaned in a little. "Admit it, you think I'm charming."
She looked at him, smiling almost hesitantly for a moment, but she'd stopped tensing when he touched her a couple weeks ago. She inclined her head, then with the playful air of making a huge concession, she said, "You are charming."
He couldn't help that his smile was wider than it ought to be at that admission. "Yeah, you just remember that," he said, and nudged her lightly, then pulled away. "This is my room," he said, nodding at 212. "I'd invite you in, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. My heart is taken."
"Oh," she said, and nodded. Morgan told himself the disappointment she seemed to be hiding was in his imagination, then she tilted her head down the hall where Reid had gone. "Does he know it runs that deep?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. "Well, I was talking about the house, but I'm sure Spence will be happy to hear you think we make a cute gay couple." He snorted and slid his keycard into the lock. "Nah, I don't think he looks at me that way."
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "Mmm, no, I don't think he does." She hesitated for a moment, then looked down at the floor. "Sleep well," she said, and gave him a small smile.
Derek smiled at her for a minute, then lifted a hand to touch her chin softly, just a tiny brush of his fingertips. "Sweet dreams," he murmured, and turned to go inside before she could say anything else.
He heard her suck in a deep breath, but then she just said, "Night." Her voice seemed a little strange, but she just turned to leave too.
Part Three