jalabert (jalabert) wrote,

FIC: Bait and Tackle

Title: Bait and Tackle
Author: Jalabert
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Category: First time
Summary: An undercover assignment yields more than a suspect.

“What are the chances of our unsub choosing Morgan out of all the available men out there?” Spencer asked as he paced back and forth in an effort to expend nervous energy. JJ looked at the man in question on the monitor.

“I’d say good to excellent,” she replied with a sigh that made heads turn. Hotch bent to peer at the monitor, where Derek Morgan could be seen entering a club.

“He doesn’t look like an off-duty cab driver in that attire,” Spencer said.

“He doesn’t look like an on-duty FBI agent, either,” Hotch said.

“No,” Emily agreed. “He just looks…well…”

“Hot,” JJ said bluntly. “He looks hot.”

“He’ll be fine, Spencer,” Hotch said with a warning look at her. She shrugged and turned back to the monitor.

“He fits the victim profile perfectly,” Emily agreed. “Black or Latino male, 20’s to 30’s, attractive, good physique…”

“But Morgan doesn’t look like a victim,” Spencer insisted. “In fact, if I encountered him at a club I’d be more likely to assume he was the predator preying upon young men. I mean he's--.”

“Assuming they’d let you into the club,” JJ said teasingly. Spencer shot her a look, but Emily drew his attention before he could respond.

“The victim is supposed to be hip, social, confident--the kind of guy everyone wants to dance with.”

“That’s our Derek,” JJ said, smiling.

“All right, so maybe his personality matches the profile,” Spencer conceded. “But--.”

“You’re our statistical analyst, Reid,” Hotch said. “You should be able to calculate the likelihood of our unsub taking an interest in Morgan.”

“Dressed like that? Who needs statistics?”

"JJ,” Hotch said sternly. He encouraged Spencer to review the unsub’s profile as a means of distracting him and then relieved JJ at the monitor. He sat down and spent the next hour watching Derek dance with an assortment of partners, both male and female, and flirt outrageously with every one of them. Emily came to relieve Hotch and shook her head at the sight of Derek doing a bump and grind on the dance floor.

“Where does he get the energy? We’ve all been up since six this morning,” she said, taking a sip of coffee from her cup.

“I have no idea,” Hotch said, shaking his head. “He’s been dancing since he entered the club.”

“Have you spoken to Gideon?”

“Briefly; it’s almost impossible to hear him in there,” Hotch replied.

“I’ve got a massive headache,” Jason said through the microphone planted in his clothes. “And frankly I’m exhausted just from watching Derek.” Emily and Hotch exchanged a smile.

“Any sign of our unsub?” he asked.

“I’ve seen several people who could be him, but no one’s made a move yet. I don’t think Derek’s got any competition, so--. Wait a minute,” Jason said from his position behind the bar. He paused to fetch a beer for a patron before continuing. “The guy speaking to Derek right now. He’s spoken to him twice before. He’s beginning to distinguish himself in a disturbing way.”

“How so?”

“He’s been watching Derek since he arrived. From the moment he set foot on the dance floor this guy’s been watching him.”

“According to JJ that’s to be expected,” Hotch said with a glance in her direction. She looked up from her work and both she and Spencer joined the others at the monitor.

“True enough,” Jason replied. “Derek is definitely the belle of the ball tonight. He’s danced virtually every dance and there’s probably a waiting list of hopefuls. But this guy didn’t ask him to dance. He just went over and spoke to Derek on the floor--twice now.”

“You think he’s trying to lure Derek off the floor and into a quiet corner for a drink?” Spencer asked.

“Either that or he’s looking to party,” Jason said.


“Drugs, sex,” Jason said, “more likely the latter.”

“Someone wants to have sex with Derek at the club?” Spencer said incredulously.

“Have you seen what he’s wearing?” JJ cried. “I’d have--. I’d have to guess that there are--.”

“We get the picture,” Hotch said, shaking his head. “Keep an eye on him, Jason.”

“Will do.”

They huddled around the monitor and watched as Derek left the dance floor with their suspect. They went to the bar, where Jason poured him and his companion a drink. Jason observed the man as he slipped something into Derek's glass. He nodded surreptitiously as Derek picked it up and seemingly took a sip. A few minutes later, his companion rose and took Derek by the hand, intent on leading him out of the club.

"He's on the move," Jason said as he confiscated the glass.

“Let’s go,” Hotch said.

“Back door,” Jason reported as he, too moved to follow Derek.

The team began to scramble, grabbing their weapons and leaping out of the van to protect Derek from the suspected serial killer. Hotch led the charge, dashing across the street and into the parking lot as he called for the squad cars to close in. He turned the corner of the building and saw Derek sitting on the back of the cuffed suspect.

“What took you so damned long?” he said as he rose and let the police take him away.

“What happened?” Hotch demanded.

“He tried to drag me into his car,” Derek said as he bent to wipe himself off. “I’m sure that drink was laced with 'Roofies.' I took a tiny sip."

"I've got the the glass,” Jason reported with a nod. "Are you going to be all right?"

“Want to get checked out by a doctor?” Hotch asked worriedly.

“I’m okay,” Derek replied. “I spit out most of it. What I did take in wasn’t enough to do any harm.”

“Good job, Derek,” Hotch said. “Why don’t you go back to the motel and get cleaned up. We’ll handle the interrogation.” He patted him on the shoulder before going over to speak with the local law enforcement team. On the way, he gestured for Spencer to join him. “Drive Derek back to the motel and keep an eye on him,” he said quietly. “He may have ingested a small amount of Rohypnol.”

“Rohypnol? It’s more likely to have been Flunitrazepam, which has the same effects as Rohypnol and--.”

“Whatever,” Hotch said curtly. “Go with him. You drive.” Spencer nodded and walked over to Derek, who was leaning against the wall rubbing his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Derek replied. “Too much cigarette smoke; messes with my contacts.”

“Well, stop rubbing your eyes, then,” Spencer said, grabbing his arm and drawing him toward the car. “Let’s get you back to the motel and you can take them out.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Derek started to move toward the driver’s side, but Spencer steered him toward the passenger seat.

“You’re riding shotgun.”

“I’m fine, Spencer.”

“Hotch’s orders,” Spencer said. To his relief, Derek didn’t argue. He got into the car and Spencer slid into the driver’s seat. “So what was it like?” he asked when they were on the road.

“What was what like?” Derek asked wearily.

“The club.”

“You saw it: crowded, smoky, jumping… It was like any other club.”

“That’s hardly helpful,” Spencer replied. “I’ve never been inside a club. According to JJ I couldn’t get into one if I tried.”

Derek tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

“I’ll take you to a club when we get back to Quantico, all right?”



“Do I have to dress like that?”

This time Derek laughed outright.

“No offense, but I don’t think you could pull this off,” he managed after a few moments.

“Actually, I think I could,” Spencer replied, affronted by Derek's remark. He pulled into a parking space in front of the motel. Spencer got out and carefully escorted Derek to the door of his room. Derek was amused by his protectiveness, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned and leaned against the wall outside his room.

“You think you could pull off this look, eh?”

“I didn’t say that," Spencer said. He waited a second and then looked down at Derek’s hips and up again. “Where’s your key? You can’t possibly have it in those pants.”

“Why not?” Derek replied, bending to retrieve the key from his boot. Spencer stared at the black denim stretched over Derek’s ass, blinking rapidly as Derek straightened up and turned to unlock the door.

“Will you be all right on your own? Hotch said you’d been drugged.”

“Just a tiny amount,” Derek replied. "Not enough to do me any harm." He pushed open the door, turned on the light and stood back. “But you’re welcome to come in and watch me, if you want.”


Derek raised his eyebrows challengingly and Spencer swallowed hard before he entered the room.

“You do know that Rohypnol, more properly known as Flunitrazepam, is a potent hypnotic--.”

“I know, Genius,” Derek said. "I attended all the same drug seminars you did." He locked the door and headed straight for the bathroom. He removed his contacts and came back gently daubing his eyes with a tissue. Spencer unabashedly stared at him, making it impossible for Derek not to call him on it. “Still think you can pull off this look?”

“I never said I could pull off the look, Derek,” he said as he took in Derek’s skin-tight jeans and revealing black mesh tee shirt. “Your exact words were, ‘I don’t think you could pull this off,’ referring to your attire. I could definitely do that.”


“Are you being purposely obtuse or is it the drugs in your system?” Spencer replied, moving closer to him. The light dawned and Derek gaped in disbelief.

“Are you coming on to me?”

“Why not? According to JJ, anyone with a pulse would be attracted to you in that outfit.”

“Oh, so it’s just the outfit that’s turning you on?”

"That outfit? You look like a rent boy."

"And you'd you like to pay my rent this week, wouldn't you?" Derek said, strutting past him to give Spencer a bit of a show.

“You know better than that,” Spencer said exasperatedly. "At least tell me you had to buy these clothes for this assignment." Derek laughed in a manner that completely rattled him. "Of course you did; even if you did own them there's no way you'd just happen to be carrying that sort of thing with you on the road, right?"

"What if I did?"

"You didn't."

"What if I did?" Derek asked huskily.

"Why would you?"

"Why not?" Derek said with an elegant shrug. Spencer watched as his muscles rippled under the mesh. "I make this stuff look good."

"You make ordinary clothes look good, Derek. That outfit? You make it look..."


"You know," Spencer said, changing his tack, "I've always found you attractive--even when you wear clothes that leave something to the imagination."

Derek smiled and sat on the edge of the dresser. He folded his arms, pointedly flexing his biceps as he did so.

"Flunitrazepam lowers one inhibitions," Spencer declared matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I'm never inhibited," Derek assured him.

"So strutting around and displaying your attributes like a peacock is a normal part of your behavior?"

"I am not behaving like a peacock!"

"I'd sooner believe that you aren't male, although that would take a considerable amount of convincing at the moment," Spencer said as he eyed Derek from head to toe.

"Like what you see?" Derek said with a smirk.

“Yes. And there's quite a lot to be seen, isn't there?" Spencer said, removing his glasses and absently tucking them into a pocket. "You know, I’ve been waiting for you to make your move since we had that little talk a few weeks ago. You haven’t taken my bait, so I'm considering taking yours."

"Your bait?" Derek replied, smiling. "What bait? How did I miss that?"

"Never mind," Spencer said, moving closer and reaching out to run his hand over Derek's chest. "I'm definitely taking yours."

"Come and get it, Genius," he challenged. Spencer smiled coyly.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to later accuse me of taking advantage of your drug-impaired state," he said, backing off a little, slowly withdrawing his hand so that the tips of his fingers lightly brushed across a nipple as he moved away. Derek grabbed his wrist before he could escape.

"The only thing 'impaired' right now is me in these pants."

"I could pull that outfit off," Spencer said with a smirk.

"Yeah, I got the joke," Derek replied. He pulled Spencer into his arms.

"Oh, it's not a joke," Spencer replied as he nuzzled Derek's throat. "It's a promise."

"You know, Spence, I never took you for a tease," Derek said, wrapping his arms around his waist to pull him closer. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to allow Spencer to nibble more of his throat.

"I'm not teasing," Spencer insisted before sharply nipping the exposed flesh.

"I'm still waiting for you to make your move," Derek said, in spite of the fact that Spencer's playful nips and touches were already having an effect on him. Spencer had undoubtedly noticed, because he smiled and rolled his eyes. "Is this all you got?" Derek taunted.

"You know, false bravado is often an attempt to mask one's insecurities."

"Do I seem insecure to you?" Derek replied. "I'm just growing impatient, that's all. Come on, Genius. Let's see what you've got. Show me your best move."

"If you insist," Spencer said as he pushed Derek away. Derek stumbled back a few steps and frowned at him.

"You call that a move?" he asked incredulously.

"No, but I was just thinking about trying your best move," he replied before he took a run at Derek and threw him onto his back across the bed. Spencer smiled down at the stunned man, who blinked several times before opening his eyes.

"What the hell was that?"

"You want to discuss tactics or would you like to see me pull off that outfit?" Spencer replied before leaning in to claim his prize.

Derek knew better than to argue with a genius and surrendered graciously.

The End
Tags: bait and tackle, criminal minds, derek morgan, morgan/reid, spencer reid

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