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How we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
– Richard Siken
The first time Derek imagines himself as a father is when he's playing house with Desiree. His idea of being a father is limited to knowledge gleaned from his own, so Derek pretends he's a police officer with three kids, and a house full of laughter. Its his least favorite game to play with Desiree, but he can't deny the swoop of satisfaction and pride that saturates his body when his dad comes home and lets out a booming, affectionate laugh at the sight of Derek in a policeman's cap, and makeshift uniform, carrying Desiree's doll with less care than she'd like him to. The sound curls around his insides, warming him up in the dead of a Chicago winter.
They don't play house much after Derek watches his father gets shot, the taste of copper flooding his mouth at the memory of biting his cheek so hard that he broke skin; strong men didn't cry, and Derek had learned that from the strongest man he'd ever known.
Two decades and change later, when Derek sits across the table from Dr. Savannah Hayes with an old fashioned in hand, he takes her in as she sips her wine. They've been seeing each other on and off, going on dates when their jobs allow it. Savannah is his first girlfriend with a schedule just as erratic as his, so for a change he hasn't been having the usual troubles with missed dates and cancelled plans. For a moment he lets his mind drift; Savannah is smart, beautiful, and they have great chemistry. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the feeling people cling on to and turn into a life. She checked every box he could think of, and yet there was a nagging feeling in his gut from taking things further, or more seriously.
Derek thinks of the affectionate shake of his mother's head as she handed his father his scarf and gloves every winter. He recalls the smile on his father's face, and the kiss they shared every morning before he left for his shift, winter accessories now in hand. Derek remembers riding with his father, endlessly thrilled by the idea of sitting shotgun in the police car, and asking him why he never remembered to take his scarf and gloves. Its not that I don't remember, its something your mama likes to do for me, and I like having an extra moment with her. That hadn't made much sense to him when he was ten.
Later that evening when Savannah tells him she has feelings for someone at work and wants to pursue them, Derek knows he's supposed to feel rejected, or at least sad that it's over, but all he feels is happy for her. He's not sure he would've lingered in the doorway for her, and for some reason, that particular memory of his parents seems to have stuck with him.
Now, as Derek looks at the pictures adorning the walls of their foyer, he's not quite sure where this train of thought had come from. Perhaps its the incessant snow outside, or the twinge he felt last week when he'd seen Spencer hold baby Michael for the first time, the look on his face nothing short of wonderstruck when they'd stopped by JJ and Will's. Maybe that's what has him thinking about things like love and fatherhood on a dreary February morning.
He shakes his head, bringing himself back when he hears the scuff of Spencer's footsteps followed by the clack of Clooney's paws.
"Lunch," Spencer says by way of explanation, coming into view with Clooney in tow and a lunch bag in hand.
Derek takes his husband in, quiet affection blooming steadily behind his sternum. Spencer looks much like the man he'd seen behind the register five years ago, if a little older, and with a few more tattoos. His hair is slightly longer, and curlier, much to Derek's delight. He's sporting a sweatshirt Derek has been looking for, for weeks; the sight of it drooping on Spencer's shoulders and over his pants fills him with warmth anyway.
He takes the lunch bag with a grateful smile. Truthfully, Derek hasn't forgotten his lunch in years. If he's being even more honest, he knows Spencer knows this. It's their own little routine.
"Thanks, baby," he murmurs, pulling him in for a kiss goodbye.
It's been a while since Spencer has had the day off and Derek has had to work, but he supposes it was bound to happen again at some point. The weather just makes it harder to step out when he could spend it at home, curled up with Spencer and Clooney.
"You're welcome," Spencer whispers, pulling back flushed, and bright eyed. The sight of the gold band on his finger is an old comfort by now, but it brings a little bit of light to his gray morning anyway.
Derek scratches Clooney's head, ruffling his fur. "Be good for Spencer," he says, giving him a scratch under his chin. Clooney yips in response, making him smile.
Spencer leans against the doorway, a speck of flour on his forehead from whatever he was cooking up in the kitchen, while he eyes Derek affectionately. "See you later, honey," he murmurs, leaning into him for a fleeting kiss that ends too quickly for Derek's liking.
Tufts of snow stick to his jacket as he says his goodbyes, his motivation to show up at his cubicle at an all time low as he watches Spencer burrow further into the borrowed sweatshirt. As he pulls out of their driveway and turns the heat to full blast, Derek sighs, letting his breath warm up his icy fingers. Their front door is open, and when Spencer catches his eye, he waves, smiling softly before watching Derek drive away.
He thinks he gets it now, what his father had meant. Love is in the long goodbyes, and the want to linger, for just a moment longer. If he pictures someone in addition to just Spencer and Clooney sending him off, then that's no one's business but his.
With Penelope on vacation with her partner Vivian, Rossi on his book tour, and Hotch out because Jack had woken up sick, the office seems to match the dismal weather outside. Derek looks around at JJ, Emily, and Blake at their desks, completing their reports with perhaps just as much enthusiasm (or lack thereof) as his own. Noon brings with it a rush of hunger, and Derek decides to break for lunch. He nods when JJ catches his eye, and the two of them make their way to the break room. He smiles gratefully when JJ hands him his lunch bag as they work on unpacking and heating their food up in amicable silence.
"Make a dent in your reports yet?"
Derek tsks, sighing and shaking his head. "A little bit. I offered to do Hotch's, so its taking me a while."
"Well that's nice of you," she comments, heating up her leftovers.
He shrugs. "Figured he might need the help with Jack sick."
Derek uses the second microwave to heat his own up, smiling when he finds a slice of the brown butter banana bread with a generous amount of chocolate chunks. He heats that up too, grinning when JJ eyes it with interest.
"That looks so good," she says, as they make their way to a table in the corner. He cuts her a piece, as is customary every time he brings one of Spencer's creations to lunch.
Lunch is a salad dressed with hummus, and some grilled chicken with sumac that he's perfected over the years. Derek digs into it, realizing he's hungrier than he'd thought he was.
"Always so strange when its a quiet day," JJ observes. "Almost like we have a normal job."
"Tell me 'bout it. Is it weird I'd rather be on a case?"
That makes her smile and shake her head. "No," she begins before pausing to finish her bite. "If you ask me, I think its almost harder knowing home is so close and still being here doing paperwork. Easier to keep your mind off it if you're away, you know?"
"I think you're on to something," he agrees. "Spencer has the day off today," he laments.
JJ grins in understanding. "I bet the weather isn't helping. You should've just called in sick, I know I would've," she teases, taking a bite of the banana bread. "My god this is good," she mumbles, her mouth full.
"He says its just the brown butter and dark chocolate," Derek says offhandedly, taking a bite of his own share. The walnuts are seasoned with salt, and the brown butter adds to the nuttiness. The chocolate isn't too sweet because of how dark it is, and Derek takes another satisfying bite.
"Well, there's a reason he's a professional," she murmurs, leaning back into her chair.
Derek smiles, agreeing. He looks at JJ while she answers some texts on her phone, a fond smile firmly in place at whatever she's seeing. Having seen her return to work after having Henry he knows the hallmarks of New Mom JJ now that she's back after having Michael. He sees it in her no nonsense, sensible hair, the near permanent halo of sleeplessness around her eyes, and perhaps at odds with the other two, a remarkable feeling of content emanating from her.
"What's on your mind?"
He startles, embarrassed at having been caught staring. JJ is looking at him the way she does when she's attempting to solve a particularly difficult problem on a white board in some precinct in the middle of nowhere. Derek decides to put her out of her misery.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
She looks surprised, but nods. "Of course! Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just– I've been thinking, and, you really don't have to talk about this if you don't want to–"
"Morgan," she cuts him off, fondly. "How long have we known each other? It's fine," she says, reassuringly.
"Sorry," he sighs, half nervous and half embarrassed. "Its just– how did you know you were ready to have kids?"
His question makes JJ smile beatifically, and Derek can feel his cheeks flush as he meets her eyes.
"You know, when you guys visited me last week I saw how you looked at Spence," she says softly. "Are you guys thinking about it?"
"We haven't really talked about it as anything more than a distant possibility," he admits. "But lately," he trails off.
"You've been thinking about it," she surmises. "Nothing wrong with that."
"I know, it's just– I feel like I don't know if this is some fantasy that sounds good or if I actually want to take the step. Does that make sense?"
JJ nods in understanding. "I mean, I don't think I can answer that for you, but you should talk to Spence. Ultimately, logistics aside there's only so much you can be ready for. It's scary, and sometimes it feels like you have no idea what you're doing, and I'm always worried I'm going to do something to irreparably fuck them up," she says, smiling wryly.
Derek looks at her incredulously. "Is this your idea of a pep talk?"
It startles a laugh out of JJ. "No, sorry, I just– you'll hear that stuff a lot, and its all true, but people forget to tell you there's a ton of good parts, and no one prepares you for those," she says, smiling. "If you decide to have them, I have no doubt you guys will be wonderful parents. Henry wasn't exactly planned, and I thought about it a lot, but ultimately, nothing seemed that insurmountable if Will and I were going to do it together, you know?"
He nods, taking it in. "Thanks," Derek murmurs gratefully. "Can we keep this just between us for now?"
JJ smiles at him affectionately before nodding and giving his palm a friendly squeeze.
They amble back to their desks reluctantly, and Derek tears through the rest of his and Hotch's reports. Maybe JJ is right. He just needs to talk to Spencer. Lately, Diana has been getting more forgetful, and Derek knows its been weighing on Spencer. He's gotten much better at letting Derek in about that, at verbalizing his fears, and letting Derek comfort him. Still, the absence of his father, and the absence of the woman his mother truly was – Derek wonders if its made Spencer any less enthusiastic about adding children to the mix.
Derek decides to talk to him tonight, and the thought only makes him work faster – he's itching to get home.
By the time he finishes his last report and logs out of his computer it's close enough to five that he doesn't care about propriety. He grabs his bag and slips out, catching the wink JJ throws his way with flushed cheeks. He's older than her, but feels surprisingly young in this regard. Derek makes his way to the parking lot, the chill whipping at his face and waking him up. It's dark outside already, and the snow seems to have started up again. Derek takes a cold lungful in, letting the snowflakes settle into his skin as he walks to the car. The evening feels heavy with possibilities, his gut churning with nerves and anticipation as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives home.
Despite the snow being a recurring annual event the traffic moves frustratingly slowly, people seemingly forgetting how to drive in this weather. Winter weather related accidents are over a hundred thousand, with close to fifteen hundred fatalities. Derek smiles at the facsimile of Spencer's voice in his head, and turns the radio up.
Sliding into the driveway and turning the car off seems to release some of the tension in his body, as if it had just clocked that he's home. Derek leans back into the car seat and watches the light from the living room windows filter out, casting a warm, inviting glow. He wonders what Spencer is up to, if he's in the kitchen, or if Derek would find him in bed, or on the couch with Clooney. Or perhaps in the study, poring over something at his desk, his back hunched in a way that Derek will inevitably end up massaging away. Five years of knowing him, and three years of being his husband has left him with plenty of knowledge about Spencer. Derek likes it that way, the intimacy that comes from knowing just about everything there is to know about a person, and being enthralled by them anyway.
He steps out, forgoing the jacket as he locks up and makes his way to the front door. A quick fumble for his keys later, the front door gives way to their foyer, and Derek steps into the comfortable warmth of their home. The house is silent for a moment before he hears the familiar pad of Clooney's paws. Derek takes his shoes off, hanging his jacket by the door before proceeding to let Clooney crowd him, giving him affectionate scratches wherever he can reach.
"Hey bud," he murmurs, laughing when Clooney licks a stripe up his cheek. "Come on, off," he commands, pleased when Clooney listens.
The house is dimly lit, the light coming mostly from the living room so that's where Derek goes first. The fireplace is crackling, and when his eyes land on Spencer, Derek doesn't fight the smile threatening to take over his face. Spencer seems lost in a book so thick Derek isn't sure if its a cookbook or a textbook, and knowing his husband it could be either. He's clad in yet another Cubs hoodie clearly from Derek's closet, and Derek makes a fond mental note to buy more if this keeps up. Spencer's glasses are slipping down his nose, and his hair is long enough to flop over his forehead, making Spencer tuck it behind his ears even has his fingers trace over the words with a dizzying speed.
Derek makes a beeline to the couch, Clooney following him aimlessly now that he's been tended to.
"Hi baby," he greets, sitting at the edge of the couch and grinning when it startles Spencer.
It takes Spencer a second before his face dissolves into a matching smile, albeit a little embarrassed. "Hi honey, sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he apologizes, smiling and closing the book shut.
Derek waves it away. "What were you reading?"
"Well, I was going over the french toast recipe for my kids cooking class tomorrow, and then I was wondering if I should explain the Maillard reaction, or if these kids are too young, and then I got distracted by my chemistry textbook," he explains sheepishly.
"What's the verdict?"
Spencer smiles, interlacing their fingers and pressing a kiss to the back of Derek's wrist. "I think thirteen year olds can learn about the Maillard reaction."
"Are we sure regular thirteen year olds can learn this, or is this for thirteen year old geniuses?"
Derek smiles when the teasing makes Spencer roll his eyes.
"I knew about the Maillard reaction when I was seven, thank you very much," he says primly before smiling. "How was your day?"
Spencer leans back into the side of the couch, and Derek takes it as an invitation, planting himself between Spencer's legs and leaning into his body. "Boring," he complains, closing his eyes when it makes Spencer press a kiss to the top of his head. "Full of paperwork. Yours?"
"Relaxed," Spencer answers after a beat. "I organized the pantry but you'll be pleased to know I did not do any recipe development."
"Good," Derek murmurs, lulled into relaxation by the careful thump of Spencer's heart against his ear. "I'm glad you finally learned the meaning of a day off," he ribs playfully.
Spencer pokes him in the side. "I know the meaning of a day off, you are so unbelievably rude to me sometimes. All I am is nice to you," he jests, looking adorably put out before pulling him closer, and bringing him into a chaste kiss laden with promise.
"Missed you," he says quietly, when Derek pulls back.
Part of him keeps waiting to stop feeling this way, and wonders if there will come a day when he doesn't feel the same way. Five years down the line he's leaning towards a hard no, coming home to Spencer remains his favorite thing to do no matter how often he gets to do it.
Derek presses a kiss to the band-aid on Spencer's thumb, probably a kitchen accident by the looks of it. "Me too," he confirms.
"Dinner?"
Suddenly, he's hard pressed to think about anything other than the conversation he's had with JJ today. It feels excruciating to go through with dinner while having this on his mind. Besides, he's sure he'll end up overthinking and talking himself out of it the longer he mulls on it. It's just Spencer, he tries to tell himself. He can say whatever is on his mind.
"Derek, are you okay?"
Great, now Spencer looks concerned, eyes flitting over Derek in practiced movements, trying to see if there's something he'd missed, physical or mental.
"Yeah, I– can we talk?" And then, spotting the mild look of alarm on Spencer's face, "It's nothing bad, I promise."
Spencer adjusts, sitting cross-legged, and giving him his full attention. He reaches for Derek's fingers and intertwines them, and something loosens in Derek's chest.
"I know we haven't talked about this lately, but uh, do you still want kids?"
The raise in Spencer's eyebrows tells him his husband seems to have caught the drift. Spencer takes a moment to answer, and time seems to stretch taut like a bowstring. Still, he's grateful Spencer is taking it seriously. Perhaps that's better than an instinctive yes that might turn into a no under the right circumstances.
"Yes," Spencer says, softly. "You?"
"I've been thinking about it," he admits. "Would you– do you want to look into it more seriously?"
Derek watches Spencer look at their interlaced fingers with an unreadable expression before he finds his voice again.
"You think we're ready?" Spencer's voice is small, and unsure, but not put off. Mostly he just sounds as nervous as Derek feels.
He thinks the question over before taking a deep breath. "I think I am," he whispers, and saying the words out loud fills him with relief. "I'm not saying we've got everything figured out, but I want it."
"Okay," Spencer says tremulously. "I want that too. I know we still have to talk but I don't want to be a donor if surrogacy is an option you prefer. I just want to be upfront about that."
Spencer sounds awkward, his eyes downcast for reasons Derek knows all too well. His book lays forgotten on the coffee table as Derek pulls him closer and tucks Spencer's face under his chin.
"Honestly, I'm not sure we can afford surrogacy easily," he murmurs, with a press of lips to the mess of curls on Spencer's head. "That aside, I'd like to adopt if that's okay with you."
Spencer pulls back, nodding, a barely there smile on his face. "I'm scared," he whispers. "But also excited. And feeling extremely unprepared, I know we're not having a baby tomorrow but I suddenly feel like we have nothing ready," he admits, smiling sheepishly.
His smile makes Derek huff in fond laughter. "I think we can take a minute to be excited before worrying about a nursery, baby."
"You're right," he concedes. Derek takes an extra second to commit this moment to memory, the apples of Spencer's cheeks dusted pink, the quietly pleased smile he wears that reminds Derek of their wedding day. His heartbeat feels too loud for his body, and Derek pulls Spencer into a searing kiss, needing to pour this feeling into something. He feels it when Spencer softens against him, giving in to the insistent kiss with a barely audible moan.
"Hi," he says breathlessly, when Derek pulls back. Derek thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful.
"I think we should get started on the process," Derek teases, his fingers slipping under the Cubs hoodie Spencer had stolen.
It earns him a peal of delighted laughter, the sound glimmering in the quiet of their house. Spencer leans into the touch. "I don't think science has come quite that far, my love," he says, still smiling wide enough that it puts an ache in Derek.
"I don't know," he murmurs, thumb rubbing against the sliver of skin at Spencer's waist. "Maybe we should conduct our own research."
Derek meets Spencer's eyes, half mischievous, half aroused, but mostly just unbelievably happy. Spencer leans in to capture his lips, the slow glide of his slightly chapped lips adding fuel to the warmth suffusing through his body.
"You got a hypothesis for me?"
The question takes a second to register – Derek feels thoroughly kissed, finding it oddly difficult to form a coherent thought when Spencer touches him like this. He rolls his eyes at the teasing in Spencer's tone before leaning over him and blanketing Spencer's frame under his own.
Spencer cups his neck, thumb trailing absentmindedly across Derek's cheekbones, making him smile. Derek leans into the touch, letting their hips lie flush together, pleased when it makes Spencer gasp quietly at the light touch.
"I thought hypotheses were your domain, Dr. Reid," he murmurs, mouthing at the skin where Spencer's jaw meets his neck, right by his ear, a spot that always elicits Derek's favorite reaction – a surprised hitch in Spencer's breath. There it is.
Spencer rocks up, attempting to create some friction. He looks relaxed, happy and flushed with want. "That's Dr. Morgan-Reid to you," he snarks, grabbing fistfuls of Derek's shirt to untuck it from his pants.
Derek laughs into the kiss he initiates. "That's not what your degrees say," he teases, pulling back with a nip to Spencer's bottom lip.
"Maybe I'll get another one just to spite you," Spencer declares, pulling him closer by his belt loops.
A crackle from the fireplace startles both of them, and Derek lets his head fall on Spencer's shoulder in shared laughter. He's about to free himself from the confines of his pants when he feels Clooney staring.
"He's looking at me, isn't he," Derek deadpans, sighing when it makes Spencer smile in amusement.
"Sure is, honey. I think he wants out."
Derek gets up, taking a second to adjust himself. "You have the worst sense of timing, you know that right?"
Clooney doesn't look like he cares. Spencer on the other hand, Derek finds hard to walk away from; the long line of his body sprawled on their couch, clothes and hair mussed from fooling around, but a fond smile still permanently in place as he watches Derek get his bearings back.
"I guess now is as good a time as any to start getting used to this," Spencer says drily, softening the sting with a scratch behind Clooney's ears.
That makes Derek grin as he bends to leave a firm kiss to Spencer's flushed cheeks. "I'll be back, baby, no moving."
Spencer sinks further into the couch with a wide smile. Derek steals a final glance at him before he leads Clooney out in the yard, feeling inordinately grateful he'd decided to speak his mind.
Outside, the snow is still falling steadily, tufts sticking to Clooney's fur as he finds a spot to relieve himself. In the confines of his leather jacket, Derek feels warmed from the inside out, a mix of happiness and trepidation at the chaos they're inviting into their lives coursing through his body as he thinks about how much their life is about to change.
***
Fran Morgan's Chicken Noodle Soup Recipe (for three sick kids and one sniffling husband who refuses to admit he's sick)
Campbell's chicken noodle soup
1 lemon
Parsley or dill (optional)
Frozen mirepoix mix
Fresh/Frozen spinach
Frozen mixed vegetables (optional)
Rotisserie chicken (optional, can be fresh, frozen, or canned)
Worcestershire sauce
Heat up some oil or butter on medium high and add some mirepoix to saute. Add frozen vegetables if using and let them thaw and heat up. Add the canned soup, shredded chicken (if using), and a splash of Worcestershire sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Turn the heat off and squeeze some lemon in before topping with herbs. Serve hot with bread or grilled cheese. Best served with ginger ale and reruns of Good Times.
***
Turns out saying yes between the two of them might have been the easiest part despite the enormity of their decision. They spend about a month sorting out their finances, pooling in the money for the actual adoption, creating sinking funds for legal fees, adoption fees, and of course, the actual child. Their child. Derek feels like he might need a lifetime to get used to saying that. It's an odd thing, going through this process. Everyone he's close to who has kids is in a heterosexual relationship and had kids via pregnancy. He knew what it looked like Sarah had Isaiah, when his cousin Cindi had her daughter Tanya, when JJ had Henry and then Michael, and even when Hotch had Jack.
Derek remembers hearing things about ultrasounds and doctor's appointments; it's strange knowing that those may well never be things he would know about. Instead, they had to go through a mind-numbingly bureaucratic process for which neither of them had a blueprint. They've told the team and Spencer's friends that they were starting this process, lest they should need character references and ever have to introduce their friends to any potential birth parents. Everyone they had told had seemed beyond excited for them, happy on their behalf, and convinced they were going to be incredible parents.
On the one hand, that was a relief. Derek knows they both trust the people around them to be honest with them and their approval had meant a lot. On the other, no one understood the particulars of this process and it often feels isolating to discuss and explain each step.
Derek stands in front of the paint aisle, looking at the paint cards, bewildered. He can't remember the last time he cared enough to differentiate between five shades of the same color but now as he looks at the cards in his hand and the cans on the shelf, each decision feels gigantic. Like somehow choosing an eggshell white would make or break their adoption. There isn't even a child in the horizon, they'd wanted to prepare the nursery beforehand in case things came together quicker than they anticipated.
The last time he'd painted a nursery was when JJ had Michael and the whole team had helped around the house to make room for two kids. He remembers JJ's blinding smile, her huge belly, and the wine Emily had kept flowing. It seems like there's a sequence to these things. Get pregnant, go to doctor's appointments, put the nursery together during your pregnancy. A sequence of events he's seen all his life. Now it's his turn and nothing looks like anything he's ever known. They're getting the house ready first. They have interviews with three different adoption agencies. They're also looking into lawyers to figure out the paperwork. And Derek can't seem to choose between three shades of white paint – how on earth is anything else ever going to get done?
Moments like these his father's absence feels more pronounced than ever. Derek wishes desperately he could call him up and ask him if he'd felt the same, if he'd felt just as inadequate, just as unprepared to be responsible for someone. What had he been thinking, telling Spencer he wanted this? It might've been two minutes or two hours, he's really not sure, but Derek startles when he feels Spencer's fingers slip through his. Spencer's cart is full, he'd clearly fared better with his half of their giant list; while Derek finds himself stuck in the paint aisle, the rest of his list untouched.
"You okay?"
Derek takes a deep breath, and turns to face his husband. Spencer looks concerned, but also like he understands, and the thought alone is enough to send relief coursing through him.
"Can't figure out which paint to pick," he murmurs, softening when Spencer's thumb rubs circles over the back of his wrist.
Spencer looks at the paint cards in his hand. "This one," he says, picking out a can of a warm white, something close to beige. "I think it'll work with the yellow and green."
"Okay," Derek says, putting it in his basket and checking it off his list.
"Now, will you tell me what's really bothering you?"
Derek sighs, knowing he's been outmaneuvered. "I just– I feel so unprepared. Every part of this feels like a test set up to make you fail. And no one we know has ever done this," he murmurs.
He watches understanding flood Spencer's eyes and feels the grip on his fingers tighten. "I know, I feel the same way. But we're doing everything we're supposed to. I know everything feels really up in the air because we're waiting to hear back from agencies and lawyers but it's going to be okay, I promise. All we have to do this weekend is paint the nursery. You already did such a good job of putting in the molding, it looks great, honey."
The harsh fluorescent lighting of the store does little to ease his wandering thoughts but Spencer's words do make him feel a little better. "How are you so calm?"
Spencer huffs out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm not calm," he whispers. "I think we just freak out about different things."
That draws out a smile from him. It's true. Spencer seems to thrive on logistics, maybe he's used to it from work. Derek comes back to the present moment when Spencer tugs on his wrist gently.
"Come on, let's go finish the rest of your list."
Derek lets him lead them through the aisles and smiles knowing this will already be faster because Spencer likely has the layout memorized. Layout or not, he'd follow him anywhere. The thought makes everything else a little more bearable.
They make their way home, trunk full, and bodies pleasantly tired. Spencer drives them, and Derek is grateful for the easy silence in the car as he looks out the window. The streets are wet, and it's been a week since the last snowfall. If he squints he can see little bursts of green peek through the remnants of winter; new life pushing through as the seasons change. Somewhere out there is a little one waiting for their last names. It's a scary thought. Maybe they've already arrived, maybe they're waiting to make their presence known. He's excited to watch his family grow. Most of all Derek hopes they're happy, and safe.
The wrought iron gate he'd painstakingly restored greets them with a faint squeak as Spencer enters the code to open it. Derek stretches his neck out and gives Spencer's thigh a grateful squeeze in the driver's seat. Between the two of them it only takes two trips to get everything in and into the nursery. When they make their way down Spencer murmurs something about a package and heads towards the front door. The house is a little chilly, and Derek feels like something warm will do the two of them good, so he sets about boiling a kettle.
When the front door shuts with a dull thud he turns around only to see his husband carrying a stack of books high enough to practically cover his face. Derek raises an eyebrow.
"You rob a library I don't know about?"
Spencer sets the books down with a huff and an exasperated eye roll. Derek looks at the books, taking their titles in. It's a stack of books on parenting, adoption, the trauma from adoption, and a couple memoirs.
He tugs Spencer close, only slightly jumping when Spencer's perpetually freezing palms sneak under his sweater and land squarely on his back. It makes Spencer smile anyway, the curve of his lips a familiar sensation in the crook of his neck.
"They're parenting books," Spencer says, voice muffled from where his face is buried in Derek's sweater.
Derek hmms in lieu of an answer, holding Spencer close until the kettle switches off, alerting them to the boiled water. He lets go of Spencer reluctantly, smiling when Spencer stays close, watching him. The water sends tendrils of steam floating into the air and Derek watches the color change to a dull green. He adds a squeeze of honey to Spencer's mug before handing it to him. The two hand grip Spencer has on his mug is comforting in its familiarity, and Derek leans into the counter, already tired. The task of putting furniture together and painting the nursery looms large in his mind. It's a long weekend because he has Monday off but Monday is also when they're hosting Sally from Cradle of Hope and he's hoping to have everything done by then to make a good impression.
The pile of books Spencer had brought stares at him ominously from their place on the counter. Its a day's work for Spencer, maybe even less with his speed. Derek has a few books on his phone that he's hoping to listen to while on the jet but still, he can't help but feel Spencer is already more prepared. Its not a competition, never has been, but all he feels is the desperate feeling of falling behind and not being enough for their child.
What if he fucks something up irreparably, damages their child in some unrecognizable way, making them not trust him. The thought alone is enough to send a shard of fear through his heart. It's been a while since he's felt like this – the obsessive need to be perfect, to be exactly what someone needed has faded over the years with therapy and a healthy relationship. Now, its back in full force in a strange facsimile of his childhood. He feels just as unprepared as he had been at ten when he'd internalized that he had to be the "man of the house", a title no one had explicitly put on him but one that he'd absorbed through culture anyway.
"Your tea's getting cold."
Derek startles at the sound of Spencer's voice and wraps both hands around his mug in an attempt to stabilize it. The tea isn't hot anymore, but it's drinkable, and Derek takes a long sip, the warmth from the liquid sitting pleasantly in him.
"Sorry," he murmurs, lowering his eyes when Spencer furrows his brows, puzzled.
"Talk to me," he whispers, setting his mug aside to hop on to the counter and lean into Derek. "You've been in your head all day."
The sigh that escapes him does little to make him feel better. He's not sure to how to verbalize this, how to say it in a way that makes sense or in one that doesn't make Spencer worry about him. Then he looks at his husband, and if he's being honest then Spencer looks worried already.
"I'm–"
"Don't tell me you're fine, honey, we know each other better than that," Spencer murmurs, firm, but kind. Always kind.
Not for the first time Derek catches a glimpse of much of himself he's laid bare to this man. For every tic that Derek knows, Spencer knows his moods just as well, reads his body like a well loved book, leaving him vulnerable often, but never unloved. Derek has never said anything that has made his husband love him less, and he knows its irrational to think this might do the trick. He sets his own mug aside, and takes a deep breath.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he begins, shaking his head when he sees Spencer's wide-eyed look. "No, baby, I'm sorry, I don't mean it like that," he apologizes. "Fuck, I'm doing a terrible job."
Spencer softens at the curse. "Its okay if you're not, we can put a pin in this anytime, you know that right? I suppose that's one good thing about going at it this way," he says, smiling wryly.
Derek huffs out a strained laugh, leaning into it when Spencer runs a comforting hand on his back. "I guess. But what I meant was, I want this, I really do, I just can't help but think I don't know anything, and everyone always acts like they just fell into this role and now they're doing it, and oh look, they just happen to be wonderful parents, but all I've listened to is one book, and I know you've read like five already, and you remember all the questions we're supposed to ask Sally and I'm going to be at work next week, and probably won't get anything done then and I–"
The cold touch of Spencer's palms on his face stops him in his tracks. Derek looks at him and promptly looks away, feeling self conscious.
"Breathe," Spencer reminds him, and he does, before resting his palms on Spencer's wrists with a rueful smile.
"I'm scared," he whispers, and ultimately that's just it, isn't it? He's so scared.
Spencer pulls him close so he's standing in between his legs. "Do you honestly think I'm not? I'm terrified, Derek," he admits, and its a little embarrassing how much the confession makes him feel better, he'd thought Spencer comforting him earlier may have just been a welcome platitude.
"You are?"
"Yeah, honey, why in the world do you think I'm reading every book under the sun about this," he says, laughing at himself. "You think you're behind because you haven't read enough books, and I'm reading books because I'm so scared I won't be able to communicate with our baby to save my life. I'm terrible at that stuff Derek, and all of that comes naturally to you. You're incredible with people, and I have no doubt you're going to have our baby wrapped around your finger. I'm scared they're not going to like me," he whispers.
Oh. They certainly make a pair. Derek says as much.
"We certainly make a pair, don't we?"
Spencer's fingers trace his cheekbones, his grin self deprecating, and his eyes more liquid gold than hazel. "We sure do," he admits sheepishly.
"Do you really think they won't like you?"
"I'm weird," he says, fingers coming to a rest on Derek's waist. "I don't have parents from whom I can borrow experiences from, I don't know what makes for a happy childhood, and I just–"
"Yes you do," Derek says decisively. "Baby, you're going to be their father. There's no universe where our kid doesn't think the world of you. And you know what makes for a happy childhood. We have all the practical stuff squared away, all that's left is to love the kid to pieces and somehow I don't think either of us is going to have a problem with that."
"I suppose I could tell you to follow your own advice," Spencer teases, even though he looks suspiciously bright eyed. You don't need books, Derek, you never have. You know how to love people, and how to make them feel seen, I know I would've done anything to have that as a child. Books are how I feel prepared for just about anything, and its my way of controlling the situation. Yours is designing and building a nursery from scratch," he says, smiling indulgently.
Derek rolls his eyes at the gentle teasing. So maybe he'd gone a little overboard with his design and they'd had to pare it down. He just wanted the best for their baby, its hardly a crime. Although maybe a chair that cost five figures was a little unreasonable and Spencer had been right to talk him out of that one.
"Thank you," he says ultimately, resting his forehead on Spencer's shoulder.
Spencer leaves a kiss at his temple. "You're welcome. And thank you," he murmurs. "Now come on, I'm going to whip up some dinner and you can go sort the mess out in the nursery like I know you've been itching to. Lets take it easy tonight, we can wake up early tomorrow and get started on things."
"You know me too well," Derek gripes without heat, and then, "Thanks for dinner, baby."
It makes Spencer smile, his grin making him look younger than his years, and Derek is helpless to do anything but smile back. He goes willingly when Spencer pulls him in for a soft kiss, the unhurried pace leaving him warmed up from the inside.
***
Sunlight is streaming into their bedroom by the time Derek fumbles around for his phone to turn his alarm off. He rubs his eyes and settles back into bed, turning to face Spencer, who is still sound asleep. Their house is always a little chilly, and spring has only just come, so Spencer is still in a loose sleep shirt, his socked feet lying close to Derek's. He looks peaceful like this, and years have passed since Derek had first seen this sight but it hasn't gotten old, and he knows it never will. He likes eyeing his husband in sleep, likes how it softens everything about him, likes how his lips are often a little parted, his body always curled up on itself if he isn't latched on to Derek.
Now, the daylight spills across Spencer's hair, lighting up the sliver of skin at his neck. Derek shifts closer and curls an arm around him before running his fingers through Spencer's hair, making him snuffle closer. His heart feels dangerously big for his chest, Spencer's easy acceptance of his touch rendering him speechless much like always. Enough time has passed that he's come to know touch is a strange, albeit wonderful thing for both of them. He grew up with touch, his family has always been affectionate, and until he'd come to know different, Derek had only associated touch with something good, something grounding. Then there had been years he'd learned otherwise, and years still where he'd fiercely guarded access to his body, doling touch out in ways that were staunchly under his control – one night stands, quick hookups, friendly touches with his team, nothing that ever left him vulnerable.
Then there was Spencer. Spencer, who has always touched him like he's something to be treasured, and never in any way that has ever made him feel like he isn't loved. For all the affection he showers Derek with, Derek knows Spencer has had his own hiccups with touch. He's never known it to be something he counts on, and if Derek thinks too hard about the stories he's heard of Spencer's childhood over the years he knows it will only make him irrationally angry, at odds with this quiet morning he finds himself in. So he puts it out of his mind, and pulls Spencer as close as he can. Derek feels the quiet puff of air hit the crook of his neck when Spencer relaxes in his hold, body going lax in Derek's arms as he falls deeper into sleep.
The nursery with the piles of packages and furniture is calling to him, but Derek is warm, and Spencer's sleep laden breathing isn't helping anything, so he sets another alarm and lets himself fall back asleep.
The next time he feels the clutches of sleep fading away is when the sun is high in the sky, and he finds himself with his face buried in Spencer's curls. Derek can tell the minute Spencer registers he's awake because he feels a press of lips on his knuckles from where their fingers are interlaced. He smiles against the nape of Spencer's neck, leaving an open mouthed kiss at the delicate skin there.
"Morning, baby," he murmurs, pulling Spencer closer still.
Spencer turns around, smiling softly, although tinged with sadness in a way that puts Derek on alert. "Good morning," he whispers, trailing a tentative finger on the side of Derek's face.
The sunlight makes Spencer's eyes look more gold than anything else in a way that momentarily leaves Derek speechless. "You sleep okay?"
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Spencer's voice is teasing and Derek lets his lips quirk up in a half-smile.
"Could've slept better," Spencer says ultimately. "I've been up for a bit, but you were knocked out, and this was nice," he says, curling in closer.
Derek leaves a lingering kiss on the part of Spencer's forehead closest to him. "You wanna talk about it?"
"I miss my mom," he hears Spencer say, his voice muffled.
The words are soft, and quietly said, but they make something in him twinge in sadness anyway. The longer they've been at this, becoming parents, the more he's seen Spencer withdraw a little bit. Not enough to be concerned, he could tell Spencer just needed time to bring it up, but now that it's here Derek feels entirely inadequate knowing that there's nothing he can do to fix this.
Diana still had her good days, but there are definitely more bad days than before, and worse, more days where she's perfectly pleasant but has forgotten entire parts of Spencer's life. Derek knows it eats at his husband whenever he lets himself think about the situation. He wishes there was something he could do about it. It didn't matter that Spencer has a great relationship with Derek's mother, or that he's finally dealing with the less than ideal childhood he's had – Diana was still his mother, and now that they're on this path and Derek finds himself wondering how his parents had done it, he can't help the dismal thought that Spencer has no one to call up and ask these questions to. The thought makes him want to pull Spencer into a bone crushing hug.
Derek lets his fingers continue on the path they'd started on Spencer's scalp, feeling impossibly affectionate when it makes Spencer relax against him. "I'm sorry, baby," he says finally, knowing there's nothing else he can really do about it except hold Spencer close.
"Can I ask you something?" Spencer pulls back, worrying his lip with his teeth, and Derek runs a thumb across his reddened lower lip, making him smile.
"Anything," he murmurs.
That makes Spencer smile briefly, despite still looking self conscious. "I know we haven't really talked about this, but if– if we have a baby girl, can her middle name be Diana?"
Derek thinks about it. They'd decided to hold off on a first name until it was actually time, although he knows they both have some names in mind that would probably come up once they were closer to bringing a baby home. Diana Morgan-Reid. It had a nice ring to it.
"I would love that," he says honestly.
Spencer smiles, eyes lighting up fondly. "Really?"
"Naming our baby after one of the smartest women I know? Fuck yeah."
His answer makes Spencer snort indelicately, and the sunlight hits his freckles just so, making Derek's heart pick up the pace.
"You're ridiculous," Spencer murmurs, still smiling. "But thank you, and I love you."
Derek pulls him in for a slow, laid-back kiss that does little to convey what he's feeling, but then again, he's not sure what will. He pours all his affection into it anyway, smiling when Spencer brushes their noses together when they pull back.
They're interrupted when Derek's phone rings and he winces, hoping its not a case.
"Hey mama," he greets, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"Wow, don't sound so excited to hear my voice," she teases, and he huffs out a laugh.
"Sorry, baby girl, do we have a case?"
Penelope clicks her tongue. "Nope, just a very special mission."
"A what now?" He sits up, momentarily distracted when Spencer follows suit and stretches to reveal the patch of skin at his waist.
"That's for me to know and you guys to find out. Be decent when we show up, I'll see you in two hours."
"Who's we, and what is happening in two hours?"
Penelope only giggles, which is how he knows its fruitless to ask any more questions. "You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?"
"Nope, now get your cute ass out of bed and tell Spencer I'll give him my first born if he happens to have any of the chocolate croissants laying around."
Derek snorts in amusement. "Its almost like you know he bakes a fresh batch every Saturday. You got it, Penelope."
Spencer looks at him, smiling as he asks his question. "Pain au chocolat?"
Derek nods before turning his attention back to the phone. "I guess I'll see you in two hours," he says, still puzzled.
"Try not to sound so delighted," she teases, before blowing him a kiss and saying goodbye.
He puts the phone away and looks at Spencer. "So apparently we have company coming in two hours."
"What about the nursery?"
Derek smiles at him wryly. "Maybe we can put them to work," he murmurs, making Spencer laugh as they amble out of bed.
Two hours later finds them dressed and done with breakfast. Spencer lays out the croissants and a few other things he'd been baking throughout the week on plates, and swats at Derek when he tries to steal a danish. Penelope is the first to arrive with Vivian, refusing to answer any questions until everyone else gets there. Derek lets them in, giving them both hugs before closing the door behind them. He doesn't miss the gift wrapped box they brought with them, and eyes it with interest as they head to the dining room where Spencer has set everything out. They grab a seat at the table where Penelope immediately reaches for a croissant, leaving Viv to chat with Spencer, as Derek takes a seat next to Penelope.
"Are you really not going to tell me what this is about?"
"My lips are sealed," she says, miming zipping her lips shut. Derek rolls his eyes affectionately.
The next thirty minutes finds the others slowly trickling in. JJ and Will arrive first, Henry in tow, and Michael snug against Will's chest. Hotch, Jack, and Beth are next, followed by Rossi, Ethan, Linh, and Ari, who immediately joins Henry and Jack. Emily and Blake are last, having carpooled. There is a growing pile of presents on their dining table and Derek is starting to get an inkling of what's going on as he takes a look around. Spencer stays close to him, and Derek squeezes his hand in acknowledgement of the sudden influx of people in their house.
He looks at Penelope expectantly once everyone settles down.
She taps her fork on a mimosa Derek is pretty sure she'd made by letting herself into their kitchen. Derek peeks at Spencer, who looks a little overwhelmed but mostly just happy, his cheeks pink, and his eyes bright. He pulls him in a little closer, smiling when it makes Spencer look at him affectionately. Penelope clears her throat pointedly, and the chatter stops as everyone looks at her.
"Now that we're all finally gathered here, and we know my Chocolate Thunder and his genius pâtissier husband are growing their family, we wanted to throw you a mini baby shower," she says gleaming as everyone else is all smiles.
JJ interjects before either of them can say anything. "And we know you didn't want to do a huge one, and so this is not that, but every baby needs a few things, so I don't want to hear anything," she warns, breaking into a grin when Derek raises his hands in surrender.
He looks at Spencer who has been quiet, but he shouldn't have worried; Spencer is all smiles, eyes glistening like they do when he's moved but can't bring himself to say anything. Derek leans over to press a kiss at his temple, he knows it means a lot to Spencer to have people show up like this.
Rossi comes over to them, making a quick stop to add an envelope to the pile of presents. "And since you wouldn't let me throw a giant party," he begins, all smiles when Derek rolls his eyes affectionately. "We decided to come over and help you put the nursery together if you'd like extra hands."
Spencer looks at him, and Derek nods minutely.
"We would love that, thank you," Spencer gushes, smiling when it results in excitement around the table.
"Okay, okay, okay," Penelope exclaims, clapping her hands. "Gift time!"
She hands them wrapped packages one by one. JJ's is first, a couple of gender neutral onesies and a tiny plush shaped like a chess piece. Emily's comes next, two spa vouchers at a nearby retreat – for when they inevitably need a break, according to her. Derek pockets them gratefully. Penelope's is a painting for the nursery, an illustration of woodland creatures hand painted by her and Vivian. Spencer looks at it with wide eyed wonder, and Derek feels the sight make its place firmly within him.
Hotch and Beth are next, with their photo album and a gift card to a local baby store. When it's Blake's turn, she surprises them with a variety of board games and a giant book of crosswords as a reminder to still spend time with each other, just the two of them. Rossi is last, and when Spencer opens the envelope and goes wide eyed, Derek knows Rossi has done something outrageous. He grabs the card to take a look and starts at the gift card inside it.
"Dave–"
Rossi shakes his head. "Don't want to hear a word from either of you, this is the best stroller money can buy and it turns into a car seat," he adds, looking proud.
Derek shakes his head, giving in. "Thank you, man," he murmurs, still in disbelief. "Thank you all for showing up for us like this. Spencer and I really appreciate it, and we couldn't be happier that you're all in our lives. This is going to be one spoiled baby," he jokes, grinning.
"Thank you, really," Spencer echoes.
The rest of them raise their glasses to it before snacking on the spread at the table and the group dissolves into conversation. He spots Spencer chatting animatedly with Blake and can't help the smile that makes its way to his face at the sight.
Derek slips away quietly, making his way to the nursery and taking a look at the assortment of boxes that somehow seems much more manageable than it had yesterday. Yesterday, he'd felt like he couldn't put a table together, today it feels like he has a handle on it, and if he doesn't, then he knows he's got people around him who will show up for him when he needs them to.
"It's not like you to hide from a party," Penelope says, sneaking up to him before taking a seat next to him against the nursery wall.
Derek smiles at her. "Thank you for this, baby girl."
"Of course," she says, sans reservation. "How long have we known each other? This is a big deal, Derek."
Somehow Penelope forgoing a silly nickname makes this feel all the more real. Derek leaves a fleeting kiss on the top of her head when she leans against his shoulder.
"I remember you from ten years ago," she murmurs, sounding surprisingly choked up. "All that attitude, and a dance card a mile long," she teases.
Derek huffs out a laugh. "That was a long time ago, mama. Only got one name on my dance card these days," he jokes back.
"I know," she sniffles. "I'm so happy for you."
Derek pulls her closer. "Penelope Garcia, are you crying?"
"Oh fuck you," she says rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Can't a girl be happy for her best friend?"
"She can," he says, giving in, before giving her a squeeze. "Sometimes all this feels a little unreal."
"I bet. You've got nothing to worry about, though. That baby is going to have the happiest life, my love. The two of you are going to be great parents, anyone who knows you can see that."
Derek rests his head on top of hers, his body losing the last remnants of tension. "Okay, I believe you."
"Good," she says, pulling away before getting up and holding a hand out. As Derek grabs on and gets up, he can hear the footsteps from the rest of their party making their way here.
"Now come on," Penelope says, tugging him up. "This nursery isn't going to build itself."
Derek smiles in agreement as the rest of their group pours in. As he begins delegating assignments, he meets Spencer's eyes, looking on proudly and sparkling with affection. He senses the uptick in his heartbeat and it makes his cheeks warm. Derek focuses on assigning Will and Hotch to the crib, not missing Spencer coming to stand next to him and interlace their fingers with a fond squeeze.
If his child has a father that looks at him like this, then Derek thinks they'll be just fine.
***
Diana Reid's Spaghetti
1 bottle of Prego's Pasta Sauce
1 packet of store brand spaghetti
Parmesan cheese
Boil the noodles according to package instructions. Mix the pasta sauce in with some pasta water and Parmesan cheese. Grate fresh Parmesan on top. Best served with a reading and Socratic discussion of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.
***
Summer brings with it humidity that leaves Derek's running outfit sticking to his skin every morning. Hot, sticky days turn into days with roaring thunderstorms as they wait for a prospective match with a birth mother. The nursery is ready to welcome its new inhabitant, and Derek feels like the house has been baby-proofed as much as it reasonably can. So now they wait. They have been, for a couple months. Its a strange kind of limbo to be in, constantly feeling like they're on the precipice of something life-changing but unable to pinpoint when it'll happen.
They've settled into a new kind of routine. Evenings that were usually spent watching movies are often spent reading one of the various parenting books that seem to appear in little stacks around their house. They frequently volunteer to babysit Michael and Henry much to JJ and Will's delight. Today finds them in the kitchen, and Derek watches Spencer guide Henry in making a cinnamon roll while he cradles Michael close, perching himself on the bar stool and keeping Spencer company.
Michael snuffles closer into the crook of his neck, and Derek marvels at the way his palm fits on Michael's little body in his arms. The feeling only lasts a couple of minutes, dampened by the warmth he feels on his forearm that support's Michael, and the smell of a soiled diaper.
Derek walks over to Spencer with a pleased smile, and one uncomfortable baby. "Your turn," he says, grinning. Spencer wrinkles his nose at the smell but takes Michael without complaint.
"I'll be back," he says to Henry. "You can roll the rest of them just like we did the first one, if you want."
Henry nods, pleased with being entrusted with such an important task. Derek likes that about his husband. Likes how Spencer treats children as his equals, never baby talking, never thinking they can't accomplish something. Henry's been making cinnamon rolls for as long as they've been babysitting him, and he's practically independent at this point. Derek's eaten many a misshapen, horrific, cinnamon roll, including a batch that had more salt than sugar, but he's never once seen Spencer talk down to Henry or panic at a mistake. He takes it in stride, handles Henry with an ease that makes him confident enough to keep trying to bake, and most of all, always makes sure Henry knows mistakes are okay.
Derek knows its more than either of them learned growing up. The thought of Spencer going out of his way to make sure none of that is passed on to the children around them warms him up from the inside out. The years have been kind to them, and Derek has watched Spencer be kinder to himself over time. More so, over the past few months as they've embarked on this path.
"Do you think this looks okay?"
Henry's voice brings him out of his thoughts, and Derek admires his near perfect cinnamon roll. Truthfully, its only a little messier than Spencer's, and a far cry from some of Henry's first ones.
"They look beautiful," he says honestly. Henry's happy smile results in a smile of his own, and Derek checks the oven to make sure it's been preheating. "Wanna put them in?"
"Can I?"
Derek pretends to consider the question. "Only if you can tell me how to open the oven so you don't get hurt," he answers.
"Put my mittens on, open the oven all the way, stand to the side, and then pull the rack out slowly," he recites.
"Alright, little man, lets put our gloves on and then lets see you do it." Derek stands close to Henry just in case he stumbles, but he seems to be doing fine. Henry opens the oven exactly like he's been taught before putting the baking dish in. Once the door is closed they set a timer and head to the dining table with some fruit Derek had promised JJ he would feed the kids.
Spencer comes back right as Derek peels some clementines. "Three and a half minutes," he says proudly, cradling a happier looking Michael in his arms. Derek reaches over for a high five before shoving a clementine segment in his mouth.
"Still haven't beat my three minute record," Derek teases, placing the bowl of clementines and some mixed nuts in front of Henry who eats them dutifully while he reads a book.
Spencer rolls his eyes. "I thought you said this wasn't a competition when I set the four minute record."
"It is, when I'm the one winning," Derek jokes, leaning back against the counter.
The house is quiet, and Spencer's body feels comforting in its proximity when he bumps their shoulders together. Michael seems content to play with the frayed hem of Spencer's sweater, and Derek watches his family for a minute, grateful for this modicum of peace and quiet before he has to go back to work tomorrow.
***
When September turns into October, Derek catches the longing glances Spencer spares for the kids in Halloween costumes, for the toddlers in his cooking classes, and the way he pivots all that energy into baking. Two out of the three birth mothers they'd matched with had chosen other couples, and one of them had decided to keep the baby. There was nothing they could have done differently, they know that, and they've been told that enough times, but Derek watches as the topic of a baby starts to feel more like a bruise tender from being prodded too often.
For a while, they stop reading the books, and the door to the nursery stays firmly shut. Derek tries to remember all the things they would do before they started on this path and wonders if Spencer would be up for a weekend getaway. Anything to keep the slightly haunted look in his husband's eyes at bay. His own feelings seem to have taken a backseat, he's been in enough therapy to know he's doing the thing he does when someone he loves is hurting. Trying to fix it and shoving all his shit deep inside.
They get platitudes from everyone about how the right time will come and the right baby is out there just waiting for them, the first time it happens, and the second. By the third, they stop telling their friends. Now, as Derek stirs the pot of spaghetti he tries to think of things that might cheer them up. Anything that might put an end to the nagging voice at the back of his head that is near constant in its cruelty, always reminding him about how maybe he's just not fit to be a father, how maybe, these people are seeing something in him that no one else can, something in him that's keeping Spencer from realizing this dream.
He startles when he feels the palm on his shoulder and turns sideways to meet an apologetic Spencer.
"Sorry," Spencer says sheepishly, "I called you a couple times."
Derek shrugs it off. "'S'okay, got lost," he murmurs, watching Spencer with interest as he hops onto the counter once Derek covers the pot and puts it away before turning the stove off.
"We've been doing that a lot, huh?"
He's not sure what he expects when he looks at Spencer, but what he finds is an apology tinged with sadness, and a look he recognizes from his reflection in the mirror.
"Getting lost?" Derek asks the question as he wipes his hands before standing closer to his husband, smiling when Spencer's legs widen to make room for him.
"Getting lost," Spencer confirms, intertwining their fingers. And then, "I, uh, booked a session with Dr. Evans. I'm not– I think this is getting to me," he says with a rueful twist to his mouth that Derek wants desperately to kiss away.
"Do you– is it maybe getting to you too?" The question is gentle when Spencer asks it, but Derek feels like he's been skinned open anyway, all the ugliness under his skin rising up to the surface so that Spencer can see. He'd thought he'd been doing an okay job, but clearly not. What he's been trying, is to fix Spencer somehow, but he looks at his husband now, and he can see that the act of trying itself has given him away.
"A little," he says, leaning his head on Spencer's shoulder, sagging into the way Spencer's arms wrap around him. "A lot," he amends, a long moment later.
Spencer pulls away to press his lips against Derek's forehead, and something about the gesture makes his eyes sting. "We should maybe talk about it," Spencer whispers.
"You're probably right," he allows. "Doesn't mean I wanna do it," he protests, part playful, part true.
He looks at Spencer, resigned but also strangely relieved to have put words to this mess of feelings between the two of them.
Spencer smiles. "Always so stubborn."
"You love me," Derek teases, voice thick with embarrassment when it comes out less sure than he wished it to.
Spencer sees through it anyway. "Of course," he murmurs, before pulling him in for slow, purposeful kiss, meant to reassure.
"I know everyone told us it might take time," Spencer says when pulls back, looking a little more settled, and a little less anguished. "But I think I stupidly thought everything would just work out."
Derek huffs out a humorless laugh in agreement. "Yeah, I think I did too. I should probably also reach out to Dr. Taylor," he admits, chagrined.
"Okay," Spencer whispers, kissing the back of his hand. Its an I'm proud of you, without the words. "What do you say we go away this weekend? I think we need out of the house."
He's helpless not to smile at that. "You read my mind," Derek murmurs, pleased. "There's a place near Winchester that Blake was talking about. A collections of cottages, some good hikes nearby, and a five course prix fixe dinner. Cozy, has a fireplace, that kinda thing."
Derek watches Spencer light up at the mention of a cozy cottage with a fireplace and some good food. He might even be able to convince him for an easy hike depending on how persuasive Derek was.
"That does sound pretty good," Spencer agrees. "Make it next week instead? I need to make sure Ethan has everything covered at work."
Derek nods and makes a mental note to make reservations and let Hotch know about his time off. A break would do them good, its just what they need to get out of this rut.
Two weeks later finds them checking in to their little cottage. Just walking into the space has made them feel lighter, Derek can tell. Perhaps its the chill in the air and the fall weather, or the fact that there isn't an empty nursery looming over their heads, but their shoulders are lighter, and their smiles come a little easier. He watches Spencer take a look around before immediately turning the fireplace on. The team is on a case, but Hotch had insisted on keeping his time off, and now that Derek is here, he's happier for it. He sets their luggage down and helps himself to the bathroom, changing into something more comfortable.
When he emerges, he finds Spencer has done the same as he looks at him underneath the blankets on the bed reading a book with his glasses on. They have no plans today, just dinner in a couple hours, so Derek follows suit and gets under the covers, grateful for the warmth. He plops himself close to Spencer, their bodies a long line of contact underneath the down comforter. Derek turns to wrap an arm around Spencer's waist, fingers tracing idle circles at his hipbone as Spencer reads.
The drive has left him pleasantly tired, and the crackle of the fireplace makes for a pleasant soundscape as he drifts off. The last thing he remembers is the shuffle of Spencer's body when he puts his book aside and joins Derek in sleep.
They spend three days doing close to nothing. They eat breakfast, take long walks on the property, venture out into the town for some lunch before coming back to the cottage. The hours between lunch and dinner vary in how they spend them, sometimes sleeping, sometimes taking their time to get each other off, sometimes reading in tandem, or just talking under covers about everything and nothing. On the third day Derek comes back from a long hike to find Spencer sitting on the porch steps, phone pressed to his ear, mouth twisted in a way that lets Derek know Diana is having a bad day.
He walks closer and watches Spencer's eyes lose a little of their tightness when he spots Derek. It doesn't quite make him smile, but it does bring a modicum of peace that if nothing else, his presence could at least make Spencer feel better. Derek settles next to him on the stoop.
"Mom, they're not trying to get to you, no one is trying to get to you! You've known Sahar for years, she's just helping you take your medicine, I promise."
Derek squeezes Spencer's shoulder and tries to absorb some of the tension there. Spencer's voice is quieter when he speaks next.
"Thank you, Mom. I'm really glad you took your medicine. No I'm–"
Spencer's body is taut with tension, but he goes willingly when Derek pulls him in.
"No, I'm– Mom I'm married, remember? You were there," he whispers in anguish before taking a deep breath. Derek watches his husband shut down a little in real time.
"Yes, that's right, we had a fall wedding, yes, I do still love Octobers," Spencer confirms, a small, relieved smile making its way across his face even though his brows are still furrowed. Derek presses his lips into the mess of curls atop Spencer's head.
"I'm not sure if Derek–"
Spencer looks at him then, and glances at the phone. Oh. Derek understands the perplexed look on Spencer's face now, its the whiplash. Diana wants to speak to him. He nods, beckoning the phone over. Spencer hands it to him with a nervous smile.
"Hello?"
"Derek," Diana says, and she sounds nothing like the person that had made Spencer sound so combative just minutes ago. He wishes it wasn't true, but it does make him sigh in relief.
"Yes ma'am," he murmurs. "How are you?"
"How many years is it going to take you to stop calling me ma'am?"
Derek lets the surprised laugh tumble out of his mouth, smiling when it makes Spencer a fraction more relaxed.
"My mama practically drilled it into me, so give me a couple more," he teases. "You been taking your medicine?"
There's a pause which makes him think he maybe shouldn't have asked that. Eventually Diana takes a deep breath.
"Yes, the fascists here won't rest until I do," she grumbles. Not for the first time Derek is reminded of the source of Spencer's fiery temper and the occasional bout of anger.
"Its almost like we all care about you," he says instead.
"How is Spencer?"
The question doesn't surprise him, he's grown accustomed to the strange cadence of a back and forth with her over the years.
"He's alright," he says carefully, not sure how much she remembers just yet. "We're away for the weekend."
A long moment passes before she says anything. Derek lets the moment breathe, unafraid to sit in silence while she worked her next words out. There had been a time where he'd fill the long pauses with more words but over the years the off kilter rhythm of their conversation no longer fazes him.
"I'm sorry for being difficult," she says eventually, chagrined.
"Come on now, you know us better than that. There's nothing you have to apologize for," he says firmly, meeting Spencer's eyes, hoping his words are heard by both of them. Spencer places a kiss to his shoulder in wordless gratitude.
The sound through the phone crackles before Diana speaks again. "If you say so."
"Have you had lunch yet?"
Diana answers in the affirmative. "He's really okay? Spencer?"
"I promise," Derek reassures. "Do you want to speak to him?"
"No that's okay," she says hastily, and Derek knows she's embarrassed about her outburst earlier. He feels his chest twinge in sympathy.
"How about we come see you on our way back tomorrow?" He glances at Spencer in question and his husband gives him a tired thumbs up.
"I don't want to come in the way–"
"Nonsense. You know we love seeing you," he reminds her.
The gust of wind at their porch steps sounds like static through the phone as Derek waits for her to speak.
"That sounds nice," Diana says eventually, quietly pleased.
"Alright, its a date," he says, smiling. "It's almost time for book club, you gonna go?"
"I think so," Diana says, her voice quiet. "My headache is better."
Derek knows that means the medicines kicked in. "You should go, you know Jeff loves having you there," he jokes, sharing a smile with Spencer about the lovely old man who most definitely had a little bit of a thing for Diana.
It makes Diana laugh, and Derek lets the sound curl into the space between them, squeezing Spencer's hands back when he feels a firm squeeze.
She hangs up after letting them know she's looking forward to their visit. Spencer smiles ruefully once he puts his phone away.
"Neuropsychiatric symptoms are common in eighty-four percent of people diagnosed with schizophrenia," Spencer says ultimately, eyes looking into the distance.
Derek doesn't need to ask what it means. He's learned to read between statistics by now.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Spencer confirms. "Patients with schizophrenia are anywhere between two to six times more likely to develop dementia and mood disorders."
Derek nods, pulling him close and resting his face on Spencer's head. There's two strands of gray hair, and something about having been present to watch the grays come in fills him up with warmth.
"I'm scared if we have a child they'll–"
Spencer cuts himself off, but Derek knows the rest of that sentence. They'll have to deal with me. Its not the first time he's heard the words, but they do sit uncomfortably between them in the aftermath of the conversation with Diana.
"They won't be by themselves, for one," Derek says finally. "Our kid's going to have family, baby, they're not going to have to go at this alone. Or at anything, for that matter. You're not going to turn into some kind of burden."
Spencer looks at him sharply. "My mom isn't a burden," he says firmly.
"I know," Derek says, simply. "Then why do you think you are?"
That makes Spencer pause and look away before meeting his eyes again. "When you put it like that," he concedes, voice trailing off. Derek knows its not the last time they'll have this conversation.
The autumn sun is mellow in its warmth and they sit there in silence as the minutes pass by and Derek cools off from his hike. He needs a shower, and now that he looks at Spencer he doesn't think Spencer has showered yet either, judging by his rumpled pajamas. He watches the sunlight dapple over the patch of grass in front of their little cottage, everything still and quiet in a way that feels more peaceful than tense. There's a family of Canada geese in the distance and Derek eyes them with curiosity as they make their way around the property, amused at the gosling's attempts to keep up with its parents. Or maybe just the adults. Maybe he's seeing parents wherever his eyes go, his subconscious still locked in on what awaits them back home.
Derek thinks of his mother and has the urge to listen to her comforting voice. She'd been the only other person they'd told about the last adoption attempt. He remembers the concern in her voice, and the sadness without pity, the way she'd flown out and stayed the weekend with them. She'd filled their house with her no nonsense way of going about things, and her soft voice. Even Spencer had let her hover over them a little which had only served to worry Derek more. Still, it'd been nice to be taken care of in that way. To show his mother around, even though she'd visited plenty of times before.
The little gosling finally catches up and huddles close to the bigger goose and Derek thinks about the Chicago winters he'd spent sniffling on the couch with his mother as he suffered from the latest bout of whatever bug had been going around the football team. Football had turned into a sore subject for him by then, but under the guise of the flu he could still let his mother take care of him, and he'd be lying if he hadn't laid it on a little thick – let himself accept the care in the only way he'd known how.
Spencer's arm snakes around his waist and Derek looks at him. He looks a lot more clear-eyed which fills Derek with relief.
"What's on your mind?"
"Just thinking about my mom," he answers honestly.
Spencer nods. "I know we've been holding off on making holiday plans but maybe we should make them, go see your family."
"Maybe," Derek allows. Spencer doesn't push. They sit there until it gets a little too cold, and Derek starts getting a little too hungry. When his stomach makes a particularly embarrassing sound, Spencer huffs out a laugh.
"Come on," he urges, helping him up. "It's time we got you some breakfast."
"Its nice out," Derek says in lieu of an answer.
"Yeah, it is. Thanks for sitting with me." Spencer pulls him in for a soft, almost reverent kiss that leaves Derek with butterflies in his stomach.
Derek follows him into the house, staying close. Spencer's phone rings, startling both of them. He picks it up apprehensively, showing Derek the screen - Cradle of Hope. They take a deep breath and desperately try not to get their hopes up.
***
Spencer Reid's Root vegetable puree (stage two baby food, supplemental to formula, appropriate for babies six months or older as long as they depict appropriate developmental behaviors)
4 carrots peeled and chopped
1 medium sweet potato peeled and chopped
2 parsnips peeled and chopped
1 golden beet peeled and chopped
2 tsp olive oil, coconut oil or avocado oil
1 tsp dried thyme
1 cup water, breast milk formula or vegetable stock
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with tin foil or a silicon mat, or spray with cooking spray.
Place the carrots, sweet potato, parsnips, golden beet on the baking sheet, drizzle them with the olive oil and sprinkle with thyme and mix together with hands or a big spoon until everything is incorporated.
Bake for 30 minutes, stirring halfway through, or until tender when pricked with a fork. Larger pieces might take an additional 10-15 minutes of roasting time.
Transfer all ingredients into a blender and add the liquid. Puree until smooth, roughly 1-2 minutes, adding additional liquid in 1/4 cup increments if needed.
***
The first night they bring her home, Derek keeps feeling like this is one big prank, like any moment now someone would ring the doorbell and say Sike! We're here to take her back, actually. This was all an elaborate prank. He looks at Spencer's wide eyes and thinks maybe he feels the same way. Their coordinator had been elated, and so had they, but there had been a veil of is this really happening permeating their experience that Derek wasn't quite sure what to do with. It had all felt so surreal. She'd come with a first name, and nothing else. June.
Derek had watched Spencer take her in, the sparse, but tight curls on her head, her upturned nose, and the way she'd latched on to Derek's fingers immediately. Junebug, Spencer had said, and so the name had stuck. June Diana Morgan-Reid had come home on a chilly autumn evening and changed their entire lives in the span of a month.
Sometimes Derek looks at her and thinks he can see Spencer all over her. Its not possible, he knows this, but it puts a pleased little smile on Spencer's face every time he says it, and so he doesn't stop. Its the nose and the endlessly curious eyes, he thinks. Spencer thinks the fullness of her lips is eerily similar to Derek's baby pictures. Perhaps there's something to be said about finding traces of someone he loves in June, something about remaking her in the image of the life they've built together. Derek doesn't mind the fanciful thinking, he decides, as he rocks June to sleep. He'll take it over the alternative any day. June stirs a little but seems to have settled down for the most part.
"Is she down?"
He doesn't jump at the sound of Spencer's voice, but its a near thing. Derek nods and makes room for Spencer as he joins them on the couch in the nursery. He's on parental leave, and so is Spencer for the most part so its been a strange little routine they've developed over the past few weeks. A lot less sleep, but a lot more wonder. Everything in him is exhausted and somehow he still finds himself ready to do it all over again tomorrow, fussy baby and all. He looks at Spencer, the dark circles under his eyes a little more pronounced from the lack of sleep, but he looks like how Derek feels – deeply content. Spencer eyes them with a smile; he must make a sight, June tucked into the crook of his arm, nestled against his chest, drooling on his coziest sweater.
"You finished making your five course baby puree meal?"
Spencer rolls his eyes fondly at the teasing. "Its good for her to have a wide range of fruits and vegetables," he says instead.
"I know, its just gourmet, is all," he jokes, knocking shoulders with Spencer.
"I like coming up with things to make for her," Spencer says, smiling shyly as he takes June carefully, holding her close and supporting her head before settling between Derek's legs, his back against Derek's chest.
Silence blankets the room as they watch their daughter sleep. Derek tucks his face into Spencer's hair, mentally going over the rest of their week which is just more of the same, just with their friends dropping by occasionally to help out. His mom is visiting next month, and they're taking June to meet Diana in a few weeks.
"We should probably sleep," he says, eventually, recalling JJ's advice about sleeping when the baby sleeps.
Spencer nods, but makes no move to get up as they watch the gentle rise and fall of June's chest. Long minutes pass before June opens her eyes blearily and starts to make fussy little noises.
"Hey, Junebug," Spencer murmurs, tracing a delicate finger on the ridges of her face. She quiets down a little, momentarily fascinated by the path Spencer's fingers are making across her face.
Derek smiles. "It's okay," he whispers. "Sometimes we have trouble sleeping too."
They watch for a moment to see if she exhibits any other signs of discomfort. They're still learning to communicate, but its nice, trying to find patterns in their daughter's behavior, learning to interpret her moods and what different sounds mean. Now, June sniffles but her eyes fall shut a few moments later as she sleeps against Spencer.
Maybe this will get old someday, although Derek knows neither of them thinks its possible in this moment. For now, he takes in the wonder on Spencer's face, a poorly disguised awe that they got to have this, fatigue and all.
"You're right," he whispers. "We should probably sleep."
Derek nods. That was probably the right thing to do. Then there is the thing he wants to do, which is stare at June for the rest of time, an impossible feat, but tempting nonetheless.
"Five minutes," he negotiates. Spencer smiles and agrees because he gets it.
Five minutes might have turned into ten, but Derek makes sure they're both off the couch before its any longer than that. They leave June in the crib with feather light forehead kisses and a quick check on the baby monitor before they amble towards their own bedroom, eyelids drooping in sleep.
He glances at the clock, its almost midnight. For a moment he has the strangest sense of déjà vu, as if he's walking in someone else's shoes, or perhaps his own from a lifetime ago. He realizes what this feeling is when they get to their bedroom, and suddenly Derek is seven – in bed, up later than he's supposed to be when his dad checks on him after a long shift, always with a smile and an affectionate ruffle of Derek's hair, never too tired to talk about his day. Derek wonders if his father had felt this way too, walking down a dark hallway away from his son's bedroom, feeling like he should've lingered for longer.
The past few months have brought his father back to the surface for him. Something about watching Derek become a father seemed to have opened the floodgates for his mother who no longer shied away from talking about her husband and all the ways Derek reminded her of him. Derek thinks about his parents quite words at the doorstep every morning, his mother's indulgent smile, and his father's sparkling eyes. He'd never really bothered to listen what they were talking about, his parents were the kind of parents who'd stayed in love, which at the time had only made them embarrassing to him. Still, Derek remembers the long goodbyes, and the way they lingered at the door, the way his father lingered at Derek and his sisters' doors too, always staying an extra moment after tucking them in.
As they brush their teeth, Derek glances at Spencer's half lidded eyes and the toothpaste foaming at his mouth, feeling impossibly complete. The feeling of wanting to go back and check on June nags on them both, but Derek thinks as long as their life keeps giving them reasons to linger, to savor the moment, they'll be alright.
***
Derek Morgan's Tomato Soup and Grilled Cheese (for a miserably sick daughter, and a husband who seems to have caught the bug but refuses to admit it)
3 beefsteak tomatoes
2 bell peppers (red, orange, or yellow)
1 large onion
1 head of garlic
Olive oil
Brioche loaf
American cheese
Preheat the oven to 425F. Cut the onion and bell peppers in half. Toss the onions, tomatoes, bell peppers and garlic in olive oil and salt. Wrap the head of garlic in some foil. Roast everything until tender. Add all the vegetables to a pot, squeeze out the roasted cloves of garlic from the head. Add some broth and blend everything with an immersion blender. Add salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning as per taste. Best served at the couch with grilled cheese, blankets, Gatorade, and cartoons.