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I Had Your Attention All Along

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**Title is a lyric from Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry

... ... ... Flashback: Derek's POV ... ... ...

I can't. Oh my God, I want him so bad and I'm not going to be able to do this… I'll hurt him. I know I will. Fuck, why didn't I just suck it up and watch the rest of that damned porn? Garcia was right…

Derek splashed water over his face.

He'd had an ulterior motive in letting Spencer take the bedroom. This way he controlled the environment. No risk of Spencer walking in and seeing a supposed figure of sexual prowess giving himself a pep talk in the mirror.

I can do this. I can. Just…ease into it. Whatever IT is. I know the general concept and the instinct is there. That's enough, right? Right. Ok. Yeah.

With a deep breath Derek stepped towards the door.

Nope. No. Not enough. Not ready. What did she say? Lube. That's in the drawer somewhere. Some of it anyway. What the hell am I supposed to do with a hand pump of that stuff? That's a lot of sex… Mmmm… Shit. Focus, you aren't even sure you're going to be able to go through with this yet. Stop getting off on the idea of it.

Clean? Check. Garcia had said that was important for both of them. And a condom. Not just for safe sex, but also to keep him from getting urinary tract infections until they were experienced enough for-What did she call them-enemas. Derek wasn't sure what those were, but since Garcia hadn't been willing to describe it he was fairly certain he didn't want to know. On the other hand, thanks to a drunken cheerleader, he knew what a UTI was and it sounded fucking awful so maybe the enema thing was a decent way to go. Or just keep using the condoms. Spencer was a virgin, he wouldn't know the difference.

Hell, I won't know the difference. Holy shit, I'm about to give my virginity to a guy and that's not the part I'm freaking out about.

He had to stop stalling. Spencer was going to start wondering where he was. The key was to play it cool… Derek really hadn't expected Spencer to be willing tonight. He wasn't ready. There was no way the kid was ready. Hotch was right; they were both too young.

Derek opened the bathroom door and wished for Spencer's brain. He needed to calculate the odds of talking Spencer out of this.

Those thoughts fled at the sight of the teen naked on his knees in Derek's bed. The streetlight cutting through his window threw all of his favorite features of the boy's body into sharp relief. The hollows at his hipbones and the flare they created at his waist. The smooth line of his collar bones and throat. The gentle slope of his narrow shoulders. His long, slender limbs. When he finally hit his growth spurt, Derek was certain Spencer would be able to look him dead in the eye. Might even be a little taller. But his favorite part, the one that startled him the most when he realized it, was Spencer's flat chest. He'd always found women's breasts incredibly attractive, and unreasonably fun to watch jiggle, but that had changed with Spencer. Derek couldn't imagine anything more upsetting than having a sack of fat jutting out into the path of his hand as he dragged nails over Spencer's flesh, or more frustrating than having to lift that same sack to nip his way across every inch of the boy's body. That's all they were to him now: unwelcome obstacles.

God, he's so beautiful.

Derek hadn't realized that he'd spoken the thought allowed until Spencer thanked him with a shy blush.

Shit, he really is the blushing virgin. And I'm the bumbling one. Christ… I can't do this. I have to talk him out of it.

… ... … End Flashback … … …

Spencer stared up at the ceiling. He'd been up for hours, but Derek was wrapped around him so tightly and he couldn't bear to move. They'd both felt rather uncomfortable sleeping naked, so Derek had loaned him a pair of boxers. He wished they'd taken the time to shower. Derek had wiped away the remnants of Spencer's release with a warm washcloth, but it wasn't the same.

But that wasn't what Spencer had been thinking about as he watched the sun rise in the window. Those discomforts had lasted all of ten minutes. Then they were overwhelmed by the realization that he'd lost his virginity and his second thought the morning after was that he wanted a shower. His first had been little trill about waking up in Derek's arms. But he'd figured his second would be some variation of uncomfortable soreness.

I suppose our extensive preparation was a success. Or maybe the intense soreness will only follow a longer round of interc-sex. If that's the case, I'm very pleased we neither of us had the stamina for a marathon round. I wasn't really looking forward to a day of pain to punctuate a very satisfying first time.

Spencer curled his toes idly, allowing himself to experience the way the tensing muscles in his legs shifted his slightly stretched body. No pain or discomfort. Just an unusual sensation, a reminder.

Very satisfying.

The only thing that disappointed him was the main reason he was horrified about just wanting to bathe. He didn't feel different. He knew biologically that his body had experienced mild changes, but that wasn't the same as what he'd read in psychology books about first times. He was supposed to feel…different. In general, after his/her first time a teenager will feel an emotional growth has occurred and wonder why the internal change isn't reflected externally. At least, that's what all the text books said. They attributed it to hormones produced in the aftermath of inter-sex. Stop being clinical!

Spencer felt the same emotionally. He still loved Derek. He was still a young Einstein with an eidetic memory. He hadn't tested it yet, but he'd be more than willing to bet his college fund-Don't know why I have one, I'm going to get a full ride wherever I want to go-that he was still socially awkward. Basically, he was still Spencer William Reid. And that was it.

Is it because we're both males? None of the books really mentioned that. Would that change the chemical production in my brain? It doesn't seem likely… Those levels are supposed to be a response to sexual arousal and emotional pleasure at the hands of another individual. It's not like vaginal intercourse between a man and a woman presses a magic hormone button… Alright, it does in the woman as she prepares her body to attempt reproduction, but not in the male counterpart.

He sighed. It didn't make any sense and that hadn't changed in the last hour or so and it wasn't likely to change in the next few minutes. He needed someone to talk to about it, because the books weren't helping. Before that, he needed a shower.

Spencer glanced at the clock. 8: 47 am. Derek's mother would probably be home soon and they needed to get up. Derek needed to get back in the habit of getting up early again anyway. School started in three days, something Spencer had been doing his best not to think about. School started on Tuesday. He'd have to see his counselor.

How does one go about explaining a first time to a school guidance counselor?

He didn't need to think about that now. He'd face it later. Right now, he needed to wash his hair and get the sticky feeling off of his skin.

"Derek… Derek…" Spencer pushed gently at the warm body wrapped around him.

"Nnn." Derek squeezed him tighter.

"No, Derek, get up. Come on, we need to get up and set the kitchen to rights before your mother gets back," Spencer huffed and tried to worm his way out Derek's grip. "Honestly, Derek, wake up!"

"Why're you so damn noisy in the mornings?" Derek grumbled, keeping his eyes tightly shut.

"Because I have an inexplicable desire to be conscious and functioning when the sun is up. It's unprecedented, I know, but you'll have to learn to live with it. Now get up," Spencer couldn't help the slight smile that touched his lips. The reply was worded sarcastically, but he just couldn't manage the exasperation the situation warranted. Odd.

To his confusion Derek froze, his eyes widening to show a parade of emotions ranging from startled pleasure to frustration with a touch of anger. He sat up abruptly and swung his feet out of bed with a put upon sigh.

"Not exactly the wake-up I was hoping for…"

Spencer blushed hotly and chucked a pillow at him. He couldn't say anything. It wasn't what he had expected either. While Derek gathered their clothes Spencer slipped into the shower and forced himself not to dally with his usual shampooing routine. Still, by the time he was done, Derek already had the bedroom cleaned up and Spencer could hear him clattering around the kitchen.

After mussing the guest room sheets with careful carelessness, Spencer followed him down. Mrs. Morgan might know intuitively what the boys were up to, but there was no need for him to make it blindingly obvious.

Derek righted the furniture and cleaned up what little food had been spilled in their haste the evening before. Spencer took up dishwashing duty and tried not to read into the comfortable silence that settled as they worked. The swirl of the water as he scrubbed each plate lulled him into quiet meditation.

It's the same…but it's different. I don't understand what changed. Something did. But it wasn't Derek -Spencer jumped at a light smack on his ass and splashed some of the dishwater after the retreating hand-Definitely not Derek. And it wasn't me. Where was the desire to cuddle? Where was the lingering intimacy? Did we sleep through it? How long do those hormones last following int-sex.

Spencer chewed at his lower lip and flinched. Derek must have bitten him a little harder than Spencer realized. The bruise wasn't visible, but it was there. It was a small comfort. But still, everything Spencer had read indicated that there should be heightened feelings in the relationship now. Particularly right now. Unless there wasn't the appropriate emotional investment. That was also a factor to be considered. But Spencer was invested. He loved Derek. Loved his personality, his charm, his innocence, his experience, his temper, his confidence, his body…

Definitely his body…

And yet… Nothing.

Maybe once wasn't enough. It was a bit…difficult at first. Maybe it's because I wasn't expecting to be the voice of experience. Maybe if next time I'm a little more…swept off my feet?

Spencer mulled the idea over, draining the dirty water and refilling the sink. He lifted his feet as Derek mopped beneath them. If he'd already gotten to that stage, Spencer was taking too long on the dishes. He scrubbed more vigorously at the soaking platter. Cooled chocolate was a pain in the ass to clean up.

That's ridiculous. It has nothing to do with Derek's inexperience. That was a very pleasant surprise. To be his first as well… That's more than I ever hoped for and it should only have made this morning more special.

He set the platter in the drying rack. He needed to talk to someone. And now he knew exactly who.

"Derek?" Spencer called out, glancing at the bare table. He must have gone to throw the table cloth in the washer with his sheets.

Derek came back around the corner with a stack of clean hand towels.

"What's up," he mumbled, his head in the cabinet.

"Could you give me Penelope's phone number?" Spencer asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Derek straightened and raised an eyebrow. "Something you need to tell me, Pretty Boy?"

Note to self: work on nonchalance. Nervous interest was not what I was going for.

"No, no… I just want to…thank her…for…" Spencer coughed and scuffed at the floor. Derek's broad grin made him blush.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh and a wink. "I need to send her flowers for that."

It's not a lie. It's not. And even if it were, it's not wouldn't be a harmful lie.

Spencer nodded, but couldn't bring himself to flirt back. What did it say about him that he couldn't address his confused emotions with his significant other despite his extensive readings on the importance of communication? All the psychologists made it sound so easy: Set aside time to talk… Approach the topic calmly… Be open and honest with your partner… Of course, their relationship wasn't exactly "textbook" in nature, but Spencer still rather expected that the transition of their interactions from contractual to mutual interest would help him be able to conduct a mature conversation about his emotions. Apparently not.

He caught a glimpse of irritation in the set of Derek's jaw before finding himself backed into the corner of the counter. Smoldering dark eyes bored into him. Derek crowded closer; his height forced Spencer to tilt his head back sharply in order to maintain eye contact, something he instinctually understood was expected. The muscles in Derek's shoulders had tightened noticeably and Spencer knew it would be in his best interest not to question at the moment.

In all honesty, he didn't want to. For some reason it felt like it had been a very long time since Derek had taken this role and Spencer's body was loudly reminding him how good it felt to be physically ripped from his own headspace. When fingers twined through Spencer's hair and blunt nails dug at his scalp, his muscles sagged abruptly. His skin pebbled with goose bumps in a sudden rush of hypersensitivity to the heat pouring off of Derek's body. His lips parted in a breathy gasp as Derek twisted the fistful of hair slowly. His eyelids fluttered, creating a shutter effect as Derek's irritation morphed into a confident self-satisfied smirk. Spencer's body burned at that promise, hotter now that he knew there could and would be fulfillment. His hips thrust forward and his hands tugged at Derek's shirt; he would have risen on his tiptoes to take the kiss Derek was dangling mercilessly in front of him but the hand in his hair kept him firmly in place.

"Derek…" he tried not to whimper too pathetically.

"Uh-uh. You missed your chance, babe. I wanted to fuck you into the mattress this morning, but you just had to get your peppy little ass out of bed at 7:30 in the goddamn morning." Spencer shivered as warm, dry lips trailed softly across his temple and over the shell of his ear. "I wanted to watch your spine bow when I pushed three of my fingers into that tight little ass alongside three of your own. But you needed to wash every lingering trace away. Regrets, Pretty boy?" The cruelly delicate lips had passed up along his jawline and paused at his chin. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself for overthinking the situation. He would have shaken his head in frantic denial, but the fist in his hair clenched tighter.

"No, no, I-" Derek's teeth grazed his ear slowly and Spencer's vocabulary lost roughly two hundred words with every nip. And every single one was English. He was certain that if Derek started speaking Russian in the next millisecond the conversation could be successfully completed. Not likely.

Spencer was still struggling with his pronouns when floorboards squeaking on the front porch signaled Mrs. Morgan's return. Derek stepped back with a frustrated sigh and gave Spencer a heated look that made it clear their discussion was far from over.

The two boys attempted to ignore Mrs. Morgan's knowing smile, but hung their heads in defeat when they heard laughter from the second floor. She'd seen the rumpled sheets in the spare room.

"I shouldn't have even bothered," Spencer groaned, slipping on his shoes and taking the overnight bag Derek held out to him.

"Nope. The woman knows absolutely everything," Derek replied with a resigned smile. "Oh yeah, Garcia's number. I'll write it down for you…"

Spencer pulled out his cellphone. "That's alright, I'll just-"

Oh no… Please tell me I didn't do that…

Derek's eyes were glued on the black plastic in his hand when finally got the nerve to look up.

I did. I haven't read about it, but I am positive there's some sort of protocol that requires telling your significant other your cellphone number. Or that you even have one.

"Derek, I'm sorry! I completely forgot it until just now! It was a Christmas present, I swear. I just got it…" He wasn't sure what to say in this situation. Something seemed better than nothing, but nothing may have been the best option after all. How was he supposed to know? Derek wasn't giving any clues beyond the body language that screamed just how pissed he was.

He finally caught Derek's eyes, but the older boy said nothing more than, "I'll write it down for you. You probably don't know how to save a contact yet. This will be faster."

Faster. He doesn't want me here right now. But he's right, I can't work this thing.

Spencer stifled his rising hope on that. He could tell from Derek's warning tone that it would be a note in his favor if he couldn't work the phone properly. Proof that he hadn't used it much, if at all.

Spencer cringed when Derek shoved the scrap of paper in his hand. Maybe not that much in his favor, after all, but he'd take anything at this point. He stood up and hesitated before reaching for the doorknob. A goodbye kiss wasn't likely now.

Derek never seemed to care much for probability though. Spencer found himself musing as his back met the door. The knob was digging into his ribs, but he didn't care because Derek was kissing him even though he'd done something stupid. It wasn't a gentle kiss, more a mark of possession. Spencer was fine with that. He could accept that. So long as this one mistake wouldn't ruin everything. He couldn't be certain just how large of a transgression in the unwritten rules of relationships he'd made.

When Derek pulled away, Spencer fought every nerve demanding he pull the boy back to him.

"I'll talk to you in school on Tuesday."

Oh… Oh.

So distance was to be his punishment then. That was…alright.

Three days is nothing. It's not even half a week. And that will give me time to talk to Penelope… Three days is nothing.

Spencer repeated the thought with every step back to his house. He hadn't taken his gloves out of his bag and his hands were going numb in his pockets, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

It took at least an hour to get back to his house. It must have. He was certain that the distance between their homes had tripled, quadrupled even. The mantra had run through his head at least a hundred thousand times. He'd had a more specific count, but after turning at the stop sign that had been their meeting place for so long the words turned into a continuous stream. He'd lost count shortly after.

Spencer kicked the snow off his shoes at his front door. His insistent replies to his mother that everything was fine, yes, he'd had a great time, rang hollow in his ears. He would tell her a little of it eventually, but if he started now, he would ramble for hours in panic. First he needed to call Penelope.

That ended up taking a lot longer than planned. Dinner was over and the sun was setting before he finally dialed her number. Somehow he'd convinced himself that this conversation couldn't happen if he didn't know exactly what to say, so he'd been sprawled on his bed all afternoon scribbling potential directions for the phone call in his notebook.

As the phone rang, he scanned through his options. An older woman, voice graveled from years of smoking and warm with years of motherhood, answered. He had an option for that.

"Hello, you've reached the Garcia's." Success. Step two.

"Good evening, ma'am. I was wondering if Penelope might be available. I'm going to be one of her new classmates." All of her possible responses that he'd calculated with his potential replies stretched across his notebook like an algorithm, but harder to follow.

"She's here. Didn't know we'd been here long enough for her to make friends yet." Hmmm, not really in his conversation map, but not difficult to improvise with.

"From the little time I've spent with your daughter, ma'am, I suspect that there is nothing that comes more naturally to her than making friends," Spencer answered. And it was true. Despite her quirkiness, or maybe because of it, Penelope was an infectious personality.

There was a brief silence, and Spencer worried he'd swerved too far from the map.

"That's sweet of you to say, young man. About both of us. It's true for Penelope, but I'm Penny's grandmother. Let me get her for you."

"Penelope Garcia, All Knowing Goddess," came the cheerful bubble. "Who've I got?"

Too much personality. The map should have been made in 3-D.

"Umm, hi, Penelope, it's Spencer." That was ok right? He was back on one of the veins at least.

"Muffin! When did you get my number?! Did Derek give it to you? Ohhh, how was last night? And this morning! Did my gifts come in handy? Tell me everything!"

Spencer sighed and closed his notebook. Hopeless case.

"Your gifts were greatly appreciated," Spencer mumbled with a hot blush. "Derek did give me your number and last night was…perfect in the least perfect meaning of the word. This morning was absolutely wonderful and then weird and then awful…That's why I'm calling. You're the only one I thought might get it, I guess."

Besides my counselor. I don't want to talk to her before I have to though.

"Excellent! I'm so gla- Wait, what? Why was it awful? And weird? What happened, lovey?"

Spencer wasn't sure he would ever be used to the pet names.

"I-I think…I think there's something wrong with me. And beyond that I did something really stupid."

"A genius like you? Never. Tell the Mama Garcia what happened."

That should make this creepy somehow, but she pulls it off.

"That's just it! I don't know… I…when I woke up this morning, I didn't feel…anything." Spencer had worked so carefully on how to explain his confusion and Penelope bowled him over in less than five minutes.

"Anything? At all? You didn't even cu-"

"NOT LIKE THAT! I mean, yes, I…you know, enjoyed it. That was wonderful. But this morning…Nothing. I was happy to wake up with him, but I'm always happy about that. I thought there would be, maybe, something else. Something…more. I thought I would want to stay in bed all day with him and be as close to him as I could possibly get, but all I wanted was a shower. I thought I would look at him and my world would tilt, because now it's, I don't know, real. Or more real. Or something. I don't know…" How was he supposed to explain something he didn't understand? Why had he even begun to think that breaking down the conversation might help?

"Silly! You had sex! It's not like you put on rose-colored glasses. Madams and ladies of the evening have all sorts of clients and sex with almost all of them and they don't get the urge to buddy up for the rest of their lives with 'em."

"But this was my first time! It's supposed to be-I mean, it WAS special, but it's supposed to mean more! And with someone I love, too…" Spencer pulled a pillow over his head. "I'm hopeless emotionally. I'm nothing but a text book."

"That's crap and you know it. You're already head over heels for our Mocha Latte. Anyone with eyes and an open mind can see that. So tell me a little about how our brain works. What's the deal with the glasses that turn the world upside down?"

"Hm? Oh that's our ability to adapt. After three days, our brain adjusts and to the wearer, everything looks like it's right side up again. If they take the glasses off, it will take three more days to readjust and see the world like everyone else again."

"So here's the thing, Sweet Cakes, your world's been tilting for that boy since you met him. Yeah, he told me all about your interesting beginnings. He's your first love. Don't answer, that's a statement not a question. Your first love is like…a huge delicious ice cream cake. Then you finally get to have sex with him? That's icing with the perfect consistency and sweetness. Getting to have your first time with your first love? That's like the cherry on top. Or really, more like popping the cherry on top. You have this whole overwhelming amazing thing already and the fact that it's your first time? That just drowns in its insignificance. It could be your millionth time, and it wouldn't matter except to give you more variety in positions. When you smile at one another? That will be different. When you start something? You'll know you get to finish it. When you look at his bed? You'll blush even brighter. But you already love Mr. Macho as much as a teenager is able. You can't be so greedy as to ask for more than that."

And somehow, that made perfect sense.

Spencer rubbed gritty eyes the next morning. Penelope had assured him that the phone situation wasn't as bad as he thought, especially sense he honestly hadn't meant anything by it and had no contacts in it except for her. But they had still been up til late in the night talking. It was a new experience for Spencer. Penelope was perhaps his third peer with whom he'd spent any amount of time on the phone. They had talked about all sorts of things. Future plans. Her passion for electronics. His concern that he wouldn't find an application for all of his knowledge after college. Past experiences. His torture in elementary school. The death of her mother and father in a car accident, which was ultimately the reason she and her grandmother moved. Her first time and her first love. She hadn't experienced them with the same person. Derek's confusion, and Spencer's embarrassment, when Penelope recommended the eventual use of enemas. His notebooks and therapy and social awkwardness. Her therapy and blogging and unique style.

Despite his exhaustion, Spencer was elated. This, he was certain, would be his first honest to goodness high school friendship.

He spent the rest of the day trying to keep his eyes open and helping his mother clean the house. It kept his hands busy, but his mind was unfortunately free to wander over missing Derek. But Penelope had addressed a point Spencer had been avoiding the night before. They were going to be seniors after the summer. Spencer could have graduated already, but…a tiny part of him hadn't wanted to leave high school yet for some twisted-Derek -reason. He was glad he'd stayed. But they weren't going to end up in the same colleges. It just wasn't going to happen. If Derek even wanted to go to college, which Spencer was fairly certain he didn't. But the end of this year and the next were a long way off. He needed to focus on the present.

Spencer sat down to a grueling chess match against himself and ended up collapsing in his bed after dinner. He dreamt of becoming a professor at an Ivy League school, of being published in world-renowned psychology generals, of traveling the world to obtain a Bachelor's in every possible subject, of joining the FBI, of marrying Derek. Of being alone for the rest of his life.

The last jerked him upright with heaving gasps. One more day until school started. He would see Derek again. Everything would be ok. It was a large stretch to go from forgetting about a cellphone to a life alone.

Spencer couldn't be sure who was more startled when Penelope knocked on the door, himself or his mother. She spent the whole day endeavoring to keep his mind off of the confrontation that was sure to come and informing him in no uncertain terms that he was not to contact Derek.

"The boy wants space to think and stew and pout. Give it to him in spades. Make him come to you. You aren't as in the wrong as his reaction makes you think."

On Tuesday morning Penelope appeared to escort him to school, providing much needed silent moral support. He braced himself when they found Derek seated on the front steps of the school surrounded by usual crew of teammates. He wasn't sure what could happen since their relationship was a secret, but he was certain there would be some lingering anger.

Spencer could only blink when all Derek did was hand him a cellphone very similar to his own.

"I didn't know you had one too…" Spencer paused as Derek's expression twisted minutely and the team tried to hide snickers.

Oh. He didn't. He bought it because I have one. I see.

Spencer smiled brightly and typed his number on the bright screen and saved it as Pretty Boy. The first bell rang and the group rose to head inside, jostling the two lovebirds in the middle of their circle and introducing those who hadn't already met Penelope.

The phone in Spencer's pocket vibrated and he opened it with a glance at Derek.

:Cute name. Hold out your hand, Pretty Boy.:

Spencer raised an eyebrow and stretched out his hand. His jaw dropped as Derek laced their fingers together and the team seemed to turn their circle inward in slow motion.

"Walk with me to class?"