Work Text:
They're on a case in a small town in the middle of nowhere Alabama and Spencer hates it. It's not the case itself, sure he'd prefer if there wasn't some guy running around killing people but it's the location of the case itself that bothers him. The south was never a friend of his and it must likely would never be, it wasn't really known for its ability to progress after all. Sure, Spencer passed well enough that no one ever questioned what was hiding under his clothes, but that intrinsic, instinctual fear stayed within him.
He'd transitioned when he was eighteen, ran to the first gender specializing therapist as soon as he was legal and able to make his own medical decisions. He'd been lucky that he'd always been taller, much much taller than the average female at his height of six foot one inches. That height and the fact that he was rail thin (no curves in sight) served him well in the early stages of his transitioning especially as it minimized the questioning and dirty looks. What had caused him relentless bullying as a child grew to be something he absolutely loved about himself.
But yeah, Alabama, not where he wanted to be.
Hotch was the only one on the team that knew he was transgender as he was the only one on the team who was privy to his personal files. In all the years they had worked together he'd only brought it up once and that had been the day of his hire.
---
"Spencer, my office."
Spencer's blood ran cold, first day and already he was being singled out, called into the bosses office. It felt akin to being called to the principal and he'd never done well with that either. He shot Gideon a look but the other man just inclined his head, a subtle acknowledgment of his fear.
When he'd stepped over the threshold of Hotch's office the man was looking down at an open manilla folder and didn't raise his head to say, "Close the door. "
Spencer obliged and sat down gingerly in the seat across from the desk, "Have I done something wrong, sir?"
"No, why would you think that?" Hotch looked up at him now with furrowed brows.
He looked so confused that Spencer almost laughed. He kept quiet though and waited, he figured telling his boss that he had angry eyebrows and an aggressive tone was probably not the way to go.
"As you probably know it's my job to be aware of every facet of this team, including my subordinates. Not only to keep you safe but to make sure the others are as well." Hotch gave him a searching look, "I reviewed your file before hiring you as I would with any other, but I felt it was especially important to acknowledge the fact that you are transgender. "
Spencer felt faint and overly warm, his breath stuttering and becoming stuck in his chest. Oh God, was his boss transphobic? Was he going to have to leave before he even truly started?
"Spencer, breathe, I can see you spiraling. I did not call you in here under negative pretenses, but to let you know that you have my full support. I will not tell anyone, of course, as it is no one's business but your own. However, should you tell someone or someone happens to find out and you find yourself being discriminated against or threatened I would like to come to me. That behavior is not to be tolerated on my team and action will be taken immediately."
Spencer was floored, he'd never received such blatant acceptance from another human being in his life save his mother. While he wished that this conversation was not necessary in the first place, the kindness he was being afforded was stunning.
"I- thank you, sir." Spencer breathed out, "That- yes. Yes, thank you."
"Good." There was the ever so small curling at the corner of his lips in what Spencer assumed was a rare smile before he said, "Back to work."
---
The young man sighed as he sat down on his bed, resigned to (at the very least) three more days in this hell hole. He pulled his go back from where he'd placed it on the chair against the wall and rifled through before finding what he was looking for.
The small vital and syringe say heavy in his hand. Nearly eight years of giving himself weekly injections and it had never gotten easier. For a while it had been especially hard, after kicking the dilauded and having that stark reminder of shooting up, the rush of the drugs in his veins and the fallout after. Now, after what seemed like both ages and days of being clean, it was back to being simply a chore.
He heaved another great sigh and sank the needle into the syringe, attempting to draw the thick liquid. It always took far too long in his opinion. Spencer was so focused on what he was doing and breathing through his rising anxiety that he didn't hear the door opening from the other end of the room.
"Spencer." Derek's voice rang loudly in the silence and the younger man jumped.
When he looked up he found his friend staring at him with a look of pure horror and devastation on his face. Not even considering what he looked like, vial and needle in hand, Spencer's thoughts were immediately filled with concern for his friend and what could have possibly happened to have him standing in his room looking like that.
"Derek, oh my god, are you okay?" Spencer jumped up, "Did something happen?"
"What are you- Spencer, what are you doing?" There was confusion mixed in with the other emotions he was displaying now, "Why didn't you come talk to someone? I could have, I don't know, driven you to a meeting, taken you to eat, anything but this."
"A meeting?" It was Spencer's turn to be confused now, why would he- oh my god, "Derek, no, I'm not using again. "
Derek looked down pointedly at the vial and syringe still in his hands.
"This is my medicine."
"Spencer," Derek's voice was soft and pleading.
Spencer held out the vital, not caring in this moment that by showing Derek, he would essentially be outing himself. He would do anything to wipe that look off the other man's face.
"No, Derek look, it's literally medicine." He shook out the vital until Derek grabbed it, "Testosterone."
Derek took it slowly and read the label, if anything he looked more confused than he had just a moment ago, "Pretty boy, why are you taking testosterone."
Spencer took a deep breath. Well, he supposed, it was now or never, "I'm transgender."
Derek just stood there for a second, so long it felt that he worried he had just lost his best friend. He was working himself into a panic when the man breathed out, "Thank God," and stepped forward, crushing Spencer's body to his own in a strong embrace.
Spencer was never great with touch and could count on one hand the amount of times he'd had intentional prolonged physical contact with Derek, but this felt like an important moment so he grabbed the other man just as tight.
"I'm sorry." He couldn't help but say.
"No, don't be, you did nothing wrong. I just saw that needle and jumped to the worst possible conclusion." Derek pulled away and took a step back, "Thank you for trusting me."
"Thank you for being trustworthy."
They just stared at each other for a moment before Spencer was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was standing infront of Derek in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He looked down at himself and then back up with wide eyes, realizing how terrible of a thing that was to do when it drew Derek to do the same.
Even on his dark skin Spencer could see the blush that formed. Well, that was new. Usually it was Spencer becoming flustered over the other man, it felt kind of good to be the reason for that flush.
"Oh man, I really should have knocked," Derek groaned, "I'm sorry, pretty boy."
Spencer laughed, somehow not completely mortified in his state of undress, "Well, at the very least you rid me of my anxiety over having to give myself my stupid shot. Did you actually need something?"
"Honestly, no. I was just coming in to bother you. He rubbed the back of his head, "Did you, um, I could help if you want."
"What?" What.
"With your shot." Derek waved a hand vaguely in Spencer's direction and at the drawing of the taller man's eyebrows explained, "Back in Chicago when I would work with the boys at the community center one of them was diagnosed with diabetes. He was terrified of the needle and so I would give him his shots sometimes when he needed them."
It was really unfair how good of a guy Derek was, no one should be allowed to be that kind and intelligent and handsome all at once. Spencer mulled it over for a moment before deciding that if Derek was offering he would be stupid not to take him up on it.
"Yeah, okay. That would be really nice actually." He backed up until he was once again sitting at the edge of the bed and Derek followed suit slowly, "The liquid is really thick so it takes a moment."
"Alright. Where do I do it?" He grabbed the syringe when Spencer offered it.
Grabbing an alcohol pad, Spencer wiped down a large spot on his upper thigh, "It goes up here, are you sure you're comfortable with this?"
Derek rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't."
Spencer nods and when Derek uncaps the needle he makes an embarrassing little noise. It really never gets easier.
"Deep breath, pretty boy." Pinching the meat of his thigh Derek says, "On three. One-"
Derek pushes the needle in on one, and even though he does it in a fluid enough motion that Spencer barely feels it the man still let's out a startled, "Son of a bitch!"
After a moment he feels the needle leave his body and Derek's hand comes down to put pressure on it and rub the medicine into the muscle. His hand is warm and now that the threat of the needle is gone Spencer can't help but notice just how close Derek is and just how good his hand feels where it's burning a brand into his thigh.
Derek has stopped rubbing his leg, lays still on his skin, but he doesn't remove his hand. Their eyes lock and maybe it's his imagination but Spencer think Derek looks just as moved by the intimate moment. Spencer wants to lean forward to press their lips together, imagines just how easy it would be, but the fear of rejection stops him.
The two of them sit like that a moment longer before Derek backs up and Spencer immediately misses the warmth of his hand and the proximity of the other man's body to his own.
Derek clears his throat, "What do you say you get dressed and meet me downstairs and we find some place to eat?"
"Okay," Spencer real hopes his voice doesn't come across as strained as he feels like it sounds, "Who else is coming? 'Cause I know JJ is going to ask for Indian but I refuse. It's delicious but my stomach just really can't handle it and I don't feel like communing with my toilet tonight."
Derek snorts, "The others have already set up camp in their room, so it's just you and me. I might even let you pick the place if you're nice to me."
"Oh yeah?" Spencer swallows tightly.
After the last fifteen minutes (which have felt like hours frankly) going to dinner just the two of them seems oddly...momentous. Spencer is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though.
"Chinese food and you can't make fun of me for using a fork?" Spencer gives him a cheeky grin.
"Pretty boy, you really need to learn how to use chopsticks, it's not that hard." Derek rolls his eyes but it's fond. He stands up then and hands Spencer the syringe he'd forgotten the other man was still holding, and then backs up to the door, "Ten minutes and I'll see you in the lobby. Don't be late, I'm starving."
He gives a wink and then he's gone, leaving Spencer sitting on the bed. Now that Derek has left the room and he's alone once more Spencer's brain is reeling, whirring like an overheated engine. The interaction felt like a fever dream, but if that was the case, Spencer decided he never wanted to wake up.
As he dressed he remembered the awed look on Derek's face when they'd sat together on the bed in those last moments. Spencer gave a giddy little shiver and thought, yeah, this could be the start of something great.