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thefroggTitle: Intimate Knowledge (1/3?)
Author: Frogg
Beta: Jalabert
Rating: FRT-13, kissing and innuendo
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Challenge: 50episodes – Criminal Minds, Morgan/Reid
Table: 2
Prompt: 27. Knife
Words: 1477
Author's note: Schmoopiness warning.
Author: Frogg
Beta: Jalabert
Rating: FRT-13, kissing and innuendo
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Damnit.
Challenge: 50episodes – Criminal Minds, Morgan/Reid
Table: 2
Prompt: 27. Knife
Words: 1477
Author's note: Schmoopiness warning.
Spencer pulled into the driveway, a frisson of nervous anticipation shivering up his spine. Dusk was spreading its mantle of blue and violet across the sky, the sun a shrinking sliver of deep red on the horizon. Long shadows painted stripes across manicured lawns and pavement alike, making Spencer squint and watch his step as he made his way over the handsome brickwork walkway to the porch.
"Don't bother knocking. Just come on in."
Derek's words echoed through his mind, drowning out Clooney barking at him from Derek's backyard and the children playing tag around the cul-de-sac.
"Just come on in."
Spencer swallowed, his hand on the knob, pausing to try and still the fluttering in his stomach. A glance across the porch revealed nothing but softly glowing windows, baskets of flowers hanging from the porch roof and a pair of matching wicker chairs.
Spencer's loafers made small ticks against the hardwood floor as he stepped inside. He turned, the door still open and half forgotten, knob clutched in his hand.
Candles.
They were everywhere, in small spherical glass holders, in cast iron brackets, freestanding in thick cream and white pillars, some wrapped in flowers or greenery. They were on the window sills, on the breakfront, the end tables, on the rails supporting the banister leading to the second floor.
Breeze from the open door made the flames flicker, bringing the scents of sandalwood and cinnamon, musk and cedar to his nose, subtle and comforting. A gust of wind nearly tore the doorknob from Spencer's grip, and he absentmindedly closed it, swallowing again against the mouth-watering aromas of steak and fresh bread and something sweet but unidentifiable drifting in from the kitchen.
"Spencer."
Spencer turned to find Derek approaching from behind the stairwell.
Silence stretched between them, not quite uncomfortable, as Derek closed the distance. Finally Derek stopped, well within Spencer's personal space.
Unable to look away, Spencer licked his lips and waited, heart in his throat. Please...
Derek came closer still, raising one hand to cup Spencer's jaw, tilt Spencer's head as he leaned in for a kiss.
Spencer's gasp was swallowed as Derek's mouth covered his, his hands fluttering at Derek's waist. Sensations washed over him: the minty bite of mouthwash, rich chocolate and something deeper; the scents of cologne and soap and Derek Spencer would never be able to forget; silk and denim beneath his fingers, warmed by the heat of the muscular body beneath. There was blackness, pleasure like exploding lights behind his closed eyelids, soft jazz familiar and soothing in his ears.
Out of breath, Spencer broke the kiss, burrowing into the hollow of Derek's throat as he panted.
"Welcome home."
The phrase startled a weak chuckle from Spencer, and he straightened, ears burning with shy embarrassment. "You, you d-didn't have to--"
"Spencer," Derek shushed him gently. "I wanted to. Besides," he added as a wide, vaguely satisfied smile spread across his face, "you're worth it."
Spencer blushed, color spilling from his ears to his cheeks. Ignoring his discomfiture, he leaned forward, wanting another kiss.
Derek covered Spencer's parted lips with one finger, smiling wickedly as the digit was licked. "Later, Spence, we have all night," and his voice deepened, growing husky with desire and anticipation. "Dinner first." He dropped his hand, turning and resting it at the small of Spencer's back to guide him towards the dining room table.
Unsure of the proper etiquette, Spencer sat down, idly fingering the edge of the tablecloth while Derek detoured to the kitchen. A moment later he was blinking, glancing between Derek, seated opposite him, and the salad of mixed wild greens and baby spinach.
"What?" Derek asked laughingly, nudging the small glass carafe of vinaigrette dressing towards him. There were whole raspberries in the bottom, and pulp turning the normally pale liquid a rich pink.
"You can't cook," Spencer blurted, then backtracked, hurrying to try and explain. "I mean, your mother told me--"
"About the time I set the kitchen on fire?"
Spencer coughed. "Um, well."
"That was twelve years ago. And, well," Derek smiled, "I'm happy living off of takeout and tv dinners, but there are some things worth learning for."
And someday I'll get you to believe that, Spencer heard. It was something he'd heard before, from Hotch and Gideon and a handful of professors who'd actually taken an interest in him, but for once, he thought maybe, just maybe, that unspoken promise wouldn't be in vain.
"Spencer, eat." Derek's tone was gently chiding. "I promise I'll work it all off of you later."
Beet red and tongue-tied, Spencer applied himself to his meal, all too aware of himself, and Derek half-smirking at him across the table.
For once, Spencer didn't feel threatened by the silence, and dedicated himself to enjoying dinner in a mostly futile attempt to distract himself from 'later'. He took the opportunity to toe off his loafers, using the carpet to remove his lovingly mismatched black socks, and barely suppressed a startled squeak at the nudge of another bare foot sliding over his arch and along his ankle. Finally, halfway through his dinner, Spencer paused and looked up, confusion written on his face.
"Spence?"
He shook his head. "I...I feel like we should be talking about, I don't know, anything, but..."
Derek smiled encouragingly and raised an eyebrow. "But?"
Spencer shrugged. "It feels like I already know the important things, and everything else is just trivial."
Derek nodded. "Don't you? We've worked together for years. You're right, we do know the big things about each other. And there's time enough to learn the rest. That's how it happens sometimes."
Spencer couldn't help but look dubious.
"Hey," and Derek covered one of Spencer's hands with his own; Spencer's knife clattered to the plate. "If you're comfortable enough to sit here and enjoy my company, I'm glad. You're not doing anything wrong."
Spencer nodded, finally picking up his knife and using it to shift some of the artichoke and mushroom sauce atop the piece of steak he'd been in the middle of. Before he could eat it, though, he glanced up. "Just one thing I do have to ask."
"Mmhmm?" There was no mistaking Derek's amusement.
"How'd you go from pizza on speed dial to making this?" Spencer took the bite, as much to keep himself from babbling as anything else.
"I knew you were going to ask that."
"And?"
"I took a few lessons."
Something clicked. "Wait--that was weeks ago! We weren't even..."
"Spencer, I've wanted you for a long time, I just never allowed myself to think about it, not until..." Derek took a deep breath. "After Albany," he finished. "Even if we hadn't ended up here, being able to cook a steak isn't a waste."
"Definitely not if you can cook it like this," Spencer said, taking another bite.
Derek laughed, nodding acknowledgment of the compliment.
Hotch was right, Spencer thought to himself. We are more comfortable with each other. Defending myself with words and knowledge isn't necessary.
The rest of dinner passed in silence, only to be broken when Derek started to clear the table.
"Let me help," Spencer insisted, picking up his empty plate.
"Spence--"
"You cooked, at least let me help clear."
Holding up his free hand in surrender, Derek laughed. "All right, all right, you can help clear."
"Besides," Spencer continued as he followed Derek into the kitchen, "with both of us clearing, we get to 'later' sooner."
"Oh, I see - ulterior motive." Derek set his plates and silverware on the counter, then took Spencer's and did the same. "Close your eyes."
"Um? Okay..."
Spencer heard the refrigerator open, felt the cold air spill out over his bare feet. A chill shivered up his spine. Then his hand was in Derek's, being curled around the stem of a wine glass. Once Spencer firmed his grip, Derek let go and closed the refrigerator with a soft *whumph*.
"You can open your eyes now."
Spencer did, looking first at Derek, then down at the glass in his hand.
Chocolate mousse, rich and sweet and topped with a cloud of whipped cream.
For a moment, Spencer was catapulted into a sense memory. Mint. Chocolate. Derek. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the here and now. "Snitch."
Derek laughed. "I had to make sure they came out okay."
Snorting delicately in response, Spencer ignored the obvious verbal response and swiped a finger through the topping, licking the digit clean.
"Would you like a spoon?" Derek asked, his voice rough with amusement and arousal.
"Hmm." Spencer tilted his head, considering, his forefinger still in his mouth. Pulling it out with a wet *pop*, he curled it back into the glass. "I don't think we need a spoon," he said, offering Derek a fingerful of mousse and whipped cream. "Do you?"
~~~to be continued~~~
"Don't bother knocking. Just come on in."
Derek's words echoed through his mind, drowning out Clooney barking at him from Derek's backyard and the children playing tag around the cul-de-sac.
"Just come on in."
Spencer swallowed, his hand on the knob, pausing to try and still the fluttering in his stomach. A glance across the porch revealed nothing but softly glowing windows, baskets of flowers hanging from the porch roof and a pair of matching wicker chairs.
Spencer's loafers made small ticks against the hardwood floor as he stepped inside. He turned, the door still open and half forgotten, knob clutched in his hand.
Candles.
They were everywhere, in small spherical glass holders, in cast iron brackets, freestanding in thick cream and white pillars, some wrapped in flowers or greenery. They were on the window sills, on the breakfront, the end tables, on the rails supporting the banister leading to the second floor.
Breeze from the open door made the flames flicker, bringing the scents of sandalwood and cinnamon, musk and cedar to his nose, subtle and comforting. A gust of wind nearly tore the doorknob from Spencer's grip, and he absentmindedly closed it, swallowing again against the mouth-watering aromas of steak and fresh bread and something sweet but unidentifiable drifting in from the kitchen.
"Spencer."
Spencer turned to find Derek approaching from behind the stairwell.
Silence stretched between them, not quite uncomfortable, as Derek closed the distance. Finally Derek stopped, well within Spencer's personal space.
Unable to look away, Spencer licked his lips and waited, heart in his throat. Please...
Derek came closer still, raising one hand to cup Spencer's jaw, tilt Spencer's head as he leaned in for a kiss.
Spencer's gasp was swallowed as Derek's mouth covered his, his hands fluttering at Derek's waist. Sensations washed over him: the minty bite of mouthwash, rich chocolate and something deeper; the scents of cologne and soap and Derek Spencer would never be able to forget; silk and denim beneath his fingers, warmed by the heat of the muscular body beneath. There was blackness, pleasure like exploding lights behind his closed eyelids, soft jazz familiar and soothing in his ears.
Out of breath, Spencer broke the kiss, burrowing into the hollow of Derek's throat as he panted.
"Welcome home."
The phrase startled a weak chuckle from Spencer, and he straightened, ears burning with shy embarrassment. "You, you d-didn't have to--"
"Spencer," Derek shushed him gently. "I wanted to. Besides," he added as a wide, vaguely satisfied smile spread across his face, "you're worth it."
Spencer blushed, color spilling from his ears to his cheeks. Ignoring his discomfiture, he leaned forward, wanting another kiss.
Derek covered Spencer's parted lips with one finger, smiling wickedly as the digit was licked. "Later, Spence, we have all night," and his voice deepened, growing husky with desire and anticipation. "Dinner first." He dropped his hand, turning and resting it at the small of Spencer's back to guide him towards the dining room table.
Unsure of the proper etiquette, Spencer sat down, idly fingering the edge of the tablecloth while Derek detoured to the kitchen. A moment later he was blinking, glancing between Derek, seated opposite him, and the salad of mixed wild greens and baby spinach.
"What?" Derek asked laughingly, nudging the small glass carafe of vinaigrette dressing towards him. There were whole raspberries in the bottom, and pulp turning the normally pale liquid a rich pink.
"You can't cook," Spencer blurted, then backtracked, hurrying to try and explain. "I mean, your mother told me--"
"About the time I set the kitchen on fire?"
Spencer coughed. "Um, well."
"That was twelve years ago. And, well," Derek smiled, "I'm happy living off of takeout and tv dinners, but there are some things worth learning for."
And someday I'll get you to believe that, Spencer heard. It was something he'd heard before, from Hotch and Gideon and a handful of professors who'd actually taken an interest in him, but for once, he thought maybe, just maybe, that unspoken promise wouldn't be in vain.
"Spencer, eat." Derek's tone was gently chiding. "I promise I'll work it all off of you later."
Beet red and tongue-tied, Spencer applied himself to his meal, all too aware of himself, and Derek half-smirking at him across the table.
For once, Spencer didn't feel threatened by the silence, and dedicated himself to enjoying dinner in a mostly futile attempt to distract himself from 'later'. He took the opportunity to toe off his loafers, using the carpet to remove his lovingly mismatched black socks, and barely suppressed a startled squeak at the nudge of another bare foot sliding over his arch and along his ankle. Finally, halfway through his dinner, Spencer paused and looked up, confusion written on his face.
"Spence?"
He shook his head. "I...I feel like we should be talking about, I don't know, anything, but..."
Derek smiled encouragingly and raised an eyebrow. "But?"
Spencer shrugged. "It feels like I already know the important things, and everything else is just trivial."
Derek nodded. "Don't you? We've worked together for years. You're right, we do know the big things about each other. And there's time enough to learn the rest. That's how it happens sometimes."
Spencer couldn't help but look dubious.
"Hey," and Derek covered one of Spencer's hands with his own; Spencer's knife clattered to the plate. "If you're comfortable enough to sit here and enjoy my company, I'm glad. You're not doing anything wrong."
Spencer nodded, finally picking up his knife and using it to shift some of the artichoke and mushroom sauce atop the piece of steak he'd been in the middle of. Before he could eat it, though, he glanced up. "Just one thing I do have to ask."
"Mmhmm?" There was no mistaking Derek's amusement.
"How'd you go from pizza on speed dial to making this?" Spencer took the bite, as much to keep himself from babbling as anything else.
"I knew you were going to ask that."
"And?"
"I took a few lessons."
Something clicked. "Wait--that was weeks ago! We weren't even..."
"Spencer, I've wanted you for a long time, I just never allowed myself to think about it, not until..." Derek took a deep breath. "After Albany," he finished. "Even if we hadn't ended up here, being able to cook a steak isn't a waste."
"Definitely not if you can cook it like this," Spencer said, taking another bite.
Derek laughed, nodding acknowledgment of the compliment.
Hotch was right, Spencer thought to himself. We are more comfortable with each other. Defending myself with words and knowledge isn't necessary.
The rest of dinner passed in silence, only to be broken when Derek started to clear the table.
"Let me help," Spencer insisted, picking up his empty plate.
"Spence--"
"You cooked, at least let me help clear."
Holding up his free hand in surrender, Derek laughed. "All right, all right, you can help clear."
"Besides," Spencer continued as he followed Derek into the kitchen, "with both of us clearing, we get to 'later' sooner."
"Oh, I see - ulterior motive." Derek set his plates and silverware on the counter, then took Spencer's and did the same. "Close your eyes."
"Um? Okay..."
Spencer heard the refrigerator open, felt the cold air spill out over his bare feet. A chill shivered up his spine. Then his hand was in Derek's, being curled around the stem of a wine glass. Once Spencer firmed his grip, Derek let go and closed the refrigerator with a soft *whumph*.
"You can open your eyes now."
Spencer did, looking first at Derek, then down at the glass in his hand.
Chocolate mousse, rich and sweet and topped with a cloud of whipped cream.
For a moment, Spencer was catapulted into a sense memory. Mint. Chocolate. Derek. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the here and now. "Snitch."
Derek laughed. "I had to make sure they came out okay."
Snorting delicately in response, Spencer ignored the obvious verbal response and swiped a finger through the topping, licking the digit clean.
"Would you like a spoon?" Derek asked, his voice rough with amusement and arousal.
"Hmm." Spencer tilted his head, considering, his forefinger still in his mouth. Pulling it out with a wet *pop*, he curled it back into the glass. "I don't think we need a spoon," he said, offering Derek a fingerful of mousse and whipped cream. "Do you?"
Previous: A Private World Next: Love in the World
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 07:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 07:16 pm (UTC)So...dessert?
Please. Now--we're ALL hungry for the next course.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-18 10:27 pm (UTC)Spencer, Spencer, Spencer, maker of all things awkward, yet arousing, where are you leading us?
Excellent.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 03:35 am (UTC)Dessert will likely take a while.:( Dad threatened to take the laptop away, and it took me three days to write that much.
Plus I have that Revelations-related mystery tromping through my brain.no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 03:36 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 03:36 am (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-20 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-10 10:31 pm (UTC)Was just wondering if there's a part 2 and 3 posted of this part of the series yet? Just so that I don't miss it...
Anyways, will read this part now, and probably a few more before bed (it's half an hour after midnight here and I'm supposed to be ill, but somehow, reading fics makes me not notice *innocent smile*)
Keep up the good work!
*Goes off to read some more*
no subject
Date: 2007-12-10 07:58 pm (UTC)*shakes entry* I know *shake* there's supposed *shake* to be more *shake**pant* around here *shake**pantpant* somewhere!
More? Please? *cute pouty face*
no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 04:38 am (UTC)I'm really enjoying all your stories. Many different spins, but all in interesting directions!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 04:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 03:48 am (UTC)Thank you! I hope you enjoy the other fandoms I've been writing in, as I don't get back to Criminal Minds much anymore.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-24 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 03:21 am (UTC)