Archive of Our Own

“Don’t touch it, Garcia! It’s a very volatile device.”

Spencer winces in pain as Derek’s solid arm braces across his chest to bring him to a stop just outside the entrance of Penelope’s lair. Kevin Lynch continues chattering with no end in sight, unaware of how loudly his voice carries through the vestibule and and out the ajar door for any passerby to hear.

“Dammit, I can’t stand this guy,” Derek grouses in a low whisper next to Spencer, “He’s always hanging around her office and can’t take the hint he’s not wanted.”

Penelope’s answering chuckle filters out into the hall louder than Kevin’s prattling. Spencer could point out that Derek had been dragging him here to do the very same thing, but judging by the furrow of his friend’s brow and his narrowed eyes, he declines to bring it up. He’s supposed to be a wing man here, afterall.

“Maybe we should come back later, then?” Spencer offers as consolation with an anxious glance to his watch.

Hotch usually steps out to get lunch in twenty minutes and Spencer’s been looking forward to ‘bumping into him’ in the cafe all morning. If Hotch is catching on to how carefully Spencer plans this interaction, he doesn’t let on. In fact, he always points to the empty seat at his table for Spencer to join him. On days where he is just grabbing something and rushing back to his paperwork, he extends the invitation to join him in his office.

Spencer doesn’t understand why Derek doesn’t try the same method to woo Garcia. It seems textbook by comparison to his usual office drop-ins and indecipherable gestures he insists Spencer be a part of. Spencer would offer him the advice if he wasn’t worried about cluing Derek into his flirtations with their boss. Regardless, Derek’s supposed to be the expert here.

“Not a chance, man. You expect me to stand down to him of all people?”

“Stand down? Derek, no one is fighting right now aside from you.”

Derek smacks him on the arm with a scoff, “You and I sure will be if you don’t back me up here.”

Without further ado, Derek grabs Spencer by the collar of his cardigan and pushes him forward into the vestibule of Garcia’s office. Spencer moves along with the manhandling solely to preserve the shape of his favorite knit sweater, Kevin’s mile-a-minute voice growing louder with every step he takes closer to the inner office door.

“It’s a super-duper top secret CIA project, Garcia. I knew a tech-godess such as yourself would love to see it.”

“Oh, stop,” she says with a giggle, “Has it been used yet?”

“Only on lab rats.”

Spencer himself is intrigued to know whatever it is Kevin has broken dozens of security protocols to show her. He’s hoping he can catch a glimpse before he inevitably tries to hide the tech once Derek makes his grand entrance.

As if on cue, Derek uses Spencer to bodily push open her office door.

“What’s going on in here, Baby G–”

Spencer is only aware of three things before he loses consciousness; Kevin’s high-pitched, girly scream of surprise, a small silver device–no bigger than a deck of cards–pointed directly towards him and Derek, and a glowing green beam of light.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Kevin! What have you done? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“Wait! Hold on! They’re waking up…maybe it didn’t work?” Kevin stammers nervously.

Derek rolls over with a groan.

His vision is blurry. His head hurts like a rubber band is wrapped around his temples. The room is freezing cold where only moments ago it had been sweltering.

What the hell did that annoying bastard do to him?

Derek rolls into a crouch, the movement popping every bone in his spine. He’s ready to pounce on Kevin at first sight, but his mission is aborted the second he looks down at his braced hands.

His long, skinny, nerdy looking hands.

“What the fuck!” Derek yells, his voice sounding nothing like his own.

“Oh god, oh god!” Kevin squeals, “Please stay calm!”

Derek spares this idiot no mind, too focused on the deep, manly yelp that resonates behind him. He turns around to see himself scrambling back towards the wall to assume the fetal position, arms wrapped around his own knees.

“What’s happening—Why is my voice–Why am I in front of me–Oh god–”

Derek watches himself spiral with a detached panic of his own. This can’t be happening. He brings a hand to his head and flinches when he comes into contact with soft, wavy hair where he is used to clean shaven skin.

“I’ve finally lost it, haven’t I?” His disembodied self continues to panic, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Wake up!”

He watches himself bring a clenched fist to his forehead and hit himself between the eyes with each word. Penelope springs into action, teetering between them on her sky-high heels to grab his hand before he can hurt himself. Derek burns with jealousy at the sight. Of course she’s fawning over him when he’s not even himself.

“Hold on! Kevin can explain, I’m sure. KEVIN!”

Kevin freezes in place when all three heads swivel to look at him, a small silver device clenched in his hand with white knuckles.

“Yes, Garcia?” he squeaks.

“EXPLAIN!” They yell in unison.

“Well, um, the uh–CIA has been experimenting with technology that can swap the consciousnesses of any two living beings…and um…well…it seems I may have accidentally deployed the test device on Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid.”

The room is silent following his explanation, the sounds of their collective labored breathing and the soft whirring of Penelope’s computers the only ambient noise. Kevin swallows nervously before holding his hands out in front of himself.

“In my defense, you really scared me when you barged into Penelope’s off–”

Derek lunges across the room to take him out at the knees, Penelope shrieking in horror.

“Spenc—wait, no—Derek! Stop!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spencer breathes in through his nose for four seconds, holds the breath for seven seconds, and then exhales over the course of eight more before repeating the cycle from the start. According to traditional buddhist yoga principles and some modern psychologists, this interval of breathing calms the nervous system and reduces panic attacks.

Thus far the method is complete bullshit.

Derek’s sinuses are refreshingly clear in a way Spencer only experiences perhaps four times a year, but that realization only restarts his panic and tightens his chest. He crosses his arms defensively across his stomach only to recoil against the bulging muscles he feels under each of his hands. Jesus, it’s hot in here.

After Derek’s attack, Penelope sequestered them to opposite sides of the office, Kevin on one side and Derek and him on the other. She stands between them with her back to the closed office door to keep them away from each other while simultaneously thwarting their potential escape.

“Ok, now that we are all calm and friendly again, let’s figure out how to fix this,” She says with a false cheerfulness that lands like a brick in the tension of the room.

When no one makes a move, she clears her throat, “Kevin. Now is when you tell us how to fix this.”

Kevin unfreezes from where he’s been cowering behind her swivel chair.

“Right. Right. Fixing this…” he rubs his hands together and takes a tentative step in front of the chair, “Fortunately, thus far the results of this device are not permanent! In trials the lab mice reverted back to normal anywhere between four and forty eight hours after it is deployed.”

Spencer hates to even glance towards Derek while he is occupying his own body, the uncaniness enough to push him towards complete psychosis, but he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of his own hands balling into fists and reaches out to hold Derek back by the shoulder before he can lunge again, careful not to pull his sweater too harshly. He isn’t built for fighting in the way Derek so desperately wants to. He bruises like a peach and Derek’s done enough a number on his body as is.

“Four and forty eight is quite the range, Kevin,” Spencer interjects with a wince at how strange it is to hear Derek’s voice when he opens his mouth, “What variables determine how long the effect lasts on each subject?”

“It’s hard to say…it’s come a long way and I’m not, well, I’m not on the scientific side of this project, but in the early trials it lasted as long as three months. I don’t know what changed to make it shorter.”

Spencer and Derek both wear matching expressions of shock when the mention of months leaves Kevin’s lips. Thinking fast, Spencer wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders to hold him back from lunging at Kevin once again. Derek struggles against his hold, but it’s shockingly easy to keep him in place while their physical bodies are exchanged.

“Nah. Nuh uh. That’s not good enough,” Derek shakes his head, hair hitting Spencer in the face while he claws at his own arms where Spencer holds him in place easily, “I love Reid’s white gangly ass like a brother from another mother, but I don’t want to BE Reid. Fix this! Now!”

“Ok! Ok!” Kevin relents, “I will go back to the lab and try to get more information, but until then, just lay low. Our best bet is just waiting for it to wear off, but I will do everything in my power to make it happen faster, I swear!”

“How do we know there won’t be side effects from the transformation?” Spencer asks, heart beat picking up once again, “How do we know this will reverse at all?”

“The mice were fine!”

Derek struggles once more in Spencer’s grasp and he has half a mind to let him go and join in on beating Kevin’s ass, but he is their one hope at getting more information.

“Give me one good reason we don’t smack you into next week, Kevin!” Derek barks as if he can read Spencer’s mind. Wait. Can he?

Derek, scream if you can hear me.

Derek doesn’t react. The only scream being a groan of frustration from Penelope where she hovers between them.

“No one is hitting anyone!” She yells with both hands in the air, bracelets jangling, “We are going to get through this together. We have to.”

“Sorry, baby girl, teamwork will not be making the dream work today. Kevin needs to own up to this gross negligence.”

She brings a bangled hand to her face, “While I don’t disagree, I feel like it should be mentioned that Kevin doing that would also probably cost me my clearance, if not all of our clearances.”

Spencer swallows around a lump forming in his–Derek’s–stomach as he remembers Hotch’s strict orders to the team to not bring any scrutiny to their unit for the foreseeable future. They’ve already been investigated once in the past year for what the higher-up’s termed “reckless violation of protocol” and this predicament more than qualifies.

The fight leaves Derek and he stops struggling against Spencer’s hold, his long limbs hanging limp at his sides in resignation. Spencer steps back and crosses his arms over his chest, scrubbing a hand over his face with a sigh a moment later. Derek’s goatee is prickly against the skin of his palm.

“Hotch, can’t be implicated in this,” He mutters, “If the brass has any idea that he knows what's going on, they’ll take his badge.”

The room nods in agreement with a grumble of defeat. They stare at each other in numb silence as they decide what to do next. Before anyone can manage to spitball a single plan, there is a brisk knock at the door.

Penelope jumps back from her guardpost and spins to crack the door.

“Oh, sir!” She gasps, reluctantly stepping to the side as Hotch pushes it open all the way, “What brings you by my neck of the woods?”

He looks around the room with a furrowed brow and little other expression.

“We have a case. I need all three of you at the roundtable now. It’s urgent.”

“Yes, Sir. We’ll be right behind you!”

He nods and turns on his heel without another word, the rest of the room shaking their heads in dumb agreement alongside Penelope’s chipper remarks. When he is far enough away, she turns to them with an expression as serious as a bomb threat.

“Kevin, get your tush to the lab right this instant, and you two–” She says with a jab of her manicured finger at Spencer and Derek, “You better be Tony award-winning actors for however long this takes to wear off.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

What would Reid do? What would Reid do? What would Reid do?

Derek chants the phrase in his mind like a mantra as he files into the conference room with himself following right behind. Hotch, JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi sit around the table with their tablets in front of them.

Derek hesitates for a moment. His impulse is to sit between Prentiss and Penelope’s usual spot, but that is what Derek would do, not Reid.

W.W.R.D? He repeats in his mind.

Reid always sits next to Hotch during these things–in fact, a hard copy of the case file is waiting for him there. Derek slides into the open seat, Hotch glancing up from his tablet for a brief moment at the movement next to him. He braces himself for some expression of suspicion from their unit chief, a sign of discontentment at least, but the look he receives instead is ten times more puzzling.

Hotch smirks at him.

It's gone as quickly as it came. Derek can’t even be sure he didn’t imagine it. Hotch hasn’t smiled in years, but he smirks at Reid?

Rather than dwell on what might be nothing, Derek shifts his focus to the folder in front of him as Spencer sits next to Prentiss. He breathes a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

Derek flips open the file and gawks at the wall of text it reveals. Why, oh why did Reid have to live in the stone age? Next to him, Spencer taps the screen of his tablet, a look of absolute befuddlement on his face as nothing happens. He finally manages to hit the home button and the screen comes to life. He enters Derek’s passcode with ease.

Derek does a double take. When the hell did he figure that one out?

All eyes are on ‘Derek’ as he continues to fumble through his device. Prentiss elbows him with a snort.

“The new update slowing you down, Morgan?”

“Huh?” He mumbles, eyebrows pinched together, “Oh. Uh…you know it!”

It’s a poor impression of the way Derek speaks. Prentiss’ face twists in confusion at the response, but she can’t say anything else as Hotch launches into an explanation of the case.

“There have been a series of bomb threats made to the DC metro area transit system. The Department of Homeland Security has reached out to the Director of the Bureau for advice, and he wants our unit to determine the validity of these threats.”

Using a remote, he pulls up an image of several hand written letters.

“These were sent to various station managers throughout the city. Reid, can you weigh in on any linguistic significance here?”

Derek and Spencer’s heads both snap up at Hotch’s request, words dying on Spencer’s lips as he remembers who he is. All eyes are on Derek instead.

W.W.R.D?

Derek skims the texts as fast as he can. He might not be a super-genius freak of nature like Reid, but he’s not an idiot either–he’s been trained in linguistic profiling too, once upon a time.

Derek clears his throat and robotically pushes a lock of hair behind his ear as the team stares him down, “According to my–uh–calculations…there isn’t all that much significance to the words written. It’s the same, er, straight-forward phrase repeated each time. The heavy handedness of the writing implies… they were written with some degree of anger.”

It’s a rudimentary explanation at best. Derek glances at Spencer to see his own face staring back with lips pressed into a flat line, the vein in his forehead throbbing with the degree to which Reid is holding himself back. Across the table, Rossi scratches his head as he sways side to side in his chair.

“Are you feeling alright, kid? That’s rather surface level for you–no offense.”

Derek shrugs, taking the out that has been presented to him.

“Maybe I’m coming down with something, sorry. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

“Please do,” Hotch injects with a wary glance his direction, “If these threats are real, the Bureau is in way over their heads.”

Penelope takes over firing through the rest of the slides, careful to only ask questions to the rest of the team to spare Spencer and him the agony of a repeat performance. When they’ve finished the debriefing, Hotch fires off orders for everyone.

“Rossi and Prentiss, you take the northern stations. Morgan and Reid, you take the southern stations. The bomb squads will be waiting for you to do a full sweep of each area. Report back with anything that indicates this unsub means business and try not to alert the public. If this gets out to the press there will be mass-hysteria. JJ and I will be here handling the taskforce.”

Everyone nods and stands from the table, springing into action. Derek is about to follow Spencer out of the room when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Reid, a moment please,” Hotch asks, voice less stern than Derek is used to.

Spencer nearly trips over his own feet as he continues out of the conference room, an anxious glance over his shoulder that Derek doesn’t have time to think about when he needs to be giving the performance of a lifetime to his boss any second now.

Derek turns back to Hotch, “Yes?”

Hotch pauses, glancing over his shoulder to be sure the rest of the team has wandered far enough away to give them privacy, stepping behind the closed blinds and pulling Spencer’s shoulder along with him so they are both out of sight.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, man–I mean Hotch–I’m just having a weird morning.”

“Ok…” Hotch hesitates, expression growing more worried, “It doesn’t have anything to do with last night?”

Derek freezes, fearing any movement he makes will betray how utterly lost he is. As far as he knows, Reid left the office yesterday at 6PM just as Derek had. They had taken the elevator down together, Reid rambling about some book he planned to read that Derek hadn’t asked about. Hotch practically lives at the BAU–how would they even have spoken to each other after working hours? Maybe Hotch had to call him with a question about a case.

“Last night? Oh, uh, no. Not at all,” Derek lies through his teeth.

“Good, good,” Hotch exhales a sigh of relief, “I missed you at lunch earlier and was worried I had completely misinterpreted your intentions. I don’t want to cross a line with you unless it’s wanted.”

Since when did they make lunch plans? What the hell did he and Hotch get up to last night?

Derek bites his lip, committing to just playing along for the sake of getting out of this conversation, “No line crossed here.”

Hotch’s intense gaze flickers from Spencer’s eyes to his lips, “Well, when this case is closed, you know where to find me.”

Before Derek can so much as nod his head in dumb agreement, Hotch smirks at him once more. It’s just as unnerving as it had been the first time, and he certainly isn’t imagining things now. He also doesn’t imagine the way Hotch slides past him out of the conference room with a short but firm grasp to Spencer’s flat ass.

Derek lets him go, feet glued to the floor in complete and utter shock.

Spencer just got groped by their boss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spencer spares another anxious glance to the conference room window before continuing to rifle through the drawers of Derek’s desk. He can’t see Hotch and himself through the closed blinds and it puts him on edge. He wants to move across the room to where he might be able to see them, but Emily is starting to notice how jumpy he’s being and he doesn’t want to draw more scrutiny.

What does Derek bring with him on the daily? He doesn’t even carry a bag. He has a gun on his hip, phone clipped to his belt, and his badge and wallet in his pockets. The second drawer down reveals Derek’s sunglasses, which Spencer puts on top of his head. It feels weird to do without any hair. Spencer takes them off and folds them over the collar of Derek’s shirt instead.

Spencer glances up once again when Hotch strides out of the conference room towards his office, phone in hand. Derek steps out a moment later, his face bright red. He looks at Spencer with wide eyes and scurries down the steps to his desk. Derek meets him there.

“Everything alright?”

Derek looks around frantically and then hefts Spencer’s messenger bag over his shoulder, “Uh, I’ll tell you in a minute. Do I need anything else?”

“No. Do I need anything else?” Spencer asks, standing with his hands out at his sides to indicate he has nothing on him.

“Nope. Let’s get out of here. Now.”

They play it cool amongst the random FBI personnel they encounter on their way to the garage, but once they are in the privacy of an SUV, they let the facade fall.

“What happened with Hotch?” Spencer asks.

It’s weird to look at himself sitting in the driver’s seat of the car. Derek insisted on driving despite their circumstances. Derek pauses with the key in the ignition, opening and closing his mouth, speechless.

“Do you think he knows something’s up?” Spencer prods once more.

“No, I don’t think he’s suspicious…”

Derek starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot with practiced ease.

“Then what?”

“Look, there’s no good way to say this, man, but…Hotch kinda… felt you up.”

That’s…much bolder than Spencer was expecting Hotch to be so soon after their dinner last night. Derek keeps his eyes planted firmly on the road, but looks over when Spencer doesn’t react.

“Why aren’t you surprised by that?”

“Well, what do you mean exactly?” Spencer questions on the off chance Derek is misinterpreting something.

Derek shrugs, “He grabbed your ass.”

“My ass?”

“Yeah, man, your ass.”

Spencer sighs dreamily, “Please, tell me every word Hotch said before and after.”

Derek recoils, brow furrowed, “What? I can’t do that. I might be you right now, but I don’t have your memory.”

“Try!” Spencer begs, with a tug on his own arm, paying no mind to the fact they are flying down the highway.

“Okay, okay! Relax!” Derek says, shrugging out of Spencer’s grasp and slowing his speed, “He said he was worried he ‘crossed a line with you’, whatever that means–I just played along. Then he said when the case was over, you knew where to find him, and then he grabbed a handful of your nonexistent ass, Genius!”

“Hey! My ass isn’t–” Spencer shakes his head before he can get distracted, “What did you do afterwards?”

“Nothing, dude, I froze up!”

“Dammit!” Spencer swears with a smack to the dash board, “Couldn’t you have just said something suave? I thought you were the suave one!”

“Are you serious right now? I thought you would want me to kick his ass!”

“No, Derek, I’ve been trying to get him to make a move like this for MONTHS.”

Derek snaps his eyes from the road to Spencer, nearly swerving out of his lane in surprise.

“Make a move? What are you saying?”

Spencer clutches the seatbelt with an anxious glance at traffic around them, “I’ve had a crush on Hotch for as long as I’ve known him, but this year I’ve suspected it wasn’t so… one-sided. Last night we got dinner and agreed that while we should take it slow, you know? See where things… go…”

Derek shakes his head, merging off the highway towards the first train station they need to inspect. Spencer has to imagine that if it hadn’t been for the fact their consciousnesses had been accidentally implanted in each other's bodies that very same morning, this might be the most shocking news Derek has heard all day.

“Hotch is a miserable drill sergeant who is a decade and a half older than you–and also your boss, I might add–what are you doing here, kid?”

“From my perspective he’s a hot, mature, eligible man who understands exactly how difficult my job is,” Spencer huffs with a cross of his arms that still somehow manages to look prissy, even on Derek’s frame, “and I like him! Sue me!”

They fall into tense silence as Derek pulls up to the train station. The unmarked bombsquad van is waiting for them alongside a string of personnel.

“Ok, look,” Derek says with a sigh, “We can revisit this crazy shit when we’re back to normal. Until then, we have a potential terrorism to investigate.”

Spencer nods his head with a sigh of his own, “You’re right. At least no one on this scene should know us personally. We can behave as we usually do, just in the wrong bodies. When we meet up with the rest of the team, we can gameplan how to blend in better and who should relay what information.”

Derek throws the SUV in park, looking in the rearview mirror to smooth down Spencer’s unruly curls, “Let’s do this thing.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Derek’s head is pounding as he waits for the elevator to reach the floor of the BAU. He leans against the railing of the compartment and rubs a hand over his eyes.

The train stations were loud. The sun had been bright. There were so many LEOs talking at once, the noise had felt like a whir of a law mower. Despite the layers and the sun, Derek can’t shake the feeling that he is freezing, especially his hands.

How does Spencer live like this?

He looks over to the other man, seeing himself fidget idly and hunch in a way that looks out of place on his muscular, commanding frame. Otherwise he seems completely fine.

”Do you feel like shit all the time?” Derek asks, “Or is it just my lucky day to be in your body?”

Spencer crosses his arms defensively, “What do you mean?”

”Your back aches. Your vision is blurry. You’ve had a headache all day. I feel like a porcelain doll, man.”

”I slept wrong, my eye prescription needs to be updated, and you’re probably not drinking enough caffeine.”

The doors of the elevator ding and then part to reveal the lobby outside of the BAU. Spencer trudges forward and Derek follows.

”Caffeine?”

”I drink eight cups a day, Derek. I was only up to cup number three when we switched. Wait any longer and you’re getting into migraine territory.”

Derek shakes his head as they stride through the glass doors, “Dude, you have a problem.”

”One of many,” Spencer mutters under his breath, veering towards the break room, “Here, do yourself a favor and have a cup–or two.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Alright, but only if you do me a solid and drink one of my protein shakes from the fridge. I’m on a regiment and I will not be falling off the wagon on account of this bullshit.”

“I’ve noticed. Whatever workout you did yesterday has your entire upper back burning with every movement,” Spencer retrieves the carton from the fridge with a grimace, “God, I hope we switch back soon.”

With their respective drinks in hand, Derek and Spencer reconvene with the team in the conference room. They called from each of the stations to relay what little information they had earlier in the day. Thus far, the notes are looking more and more like a hoax than a real threat, but there’s nothing definitive enough to lessen the urgency of the case.

Spencer sits next to Prentiss, Derek sliding into the empty seat next to him. She turns away from Rossi and Garcia to greet them.

“I’m assuming your group of train stations was just as uneventful as ours?”

Spencer, despite being calm and collected thus far, visibly short circuits the second it becomes necessary to speak. He crosses his legs before realizing how unnatural that looks in Derek’s body, opting instead to lean back in his chair and sprawl performatively.

“Oh, uh,” He stammers, “You know it, sister.”

Garcia puts a hand over her face to hide her dismay. Emily stares at him like he’s grown two heads long enough that Rossi looks up from his phone in question. This genius is good at everything, but acting, apparently.

“There was nothing notable,” Derek holds his mug in both hands as Reid often does, losing steam as he searches for what words Reid would use, “The stations were operating at… maximum efficiency.”

Rossi tilts his head to the side, “What’s going on with you two chuckleheads today? Did you hit your heads together or something?”

”Yeah,” Emily says with her eyes narrowed, “You’re acting shifty enough it makes me wonder if you two sent these threats in. What gives?”

“I think they’ve seemed normal?” Garcia interjects, scratching her head and pursing her lips in mock-thoughtfulness, “Other than Reid seeming a little under the weather, right guys?”

Derek and Spencer nod quickly. Emily narrows her eyes further looking between the three of them.

”Derek’s been skittering around the office in a panic all afternoon, Spencer’s been providing case details like he’s concussed, and when you’re not acting bizarre you’re whispering to each other like you have something to hide.”

”I can’t help but agree,” Rossi adds with a sage sip of his coffee, “We’re all profilers here. Fess up.”

Spencer goes to brush a strand of hair behind his ear before aborting the movement to scratch at Derek’s bald head instead, “It’s simple you see…”

”Yeah,” Derek cuts in, “Morgan and I are just…”

”…planning a…” Spencer continues

“…surprise party.” Derek finishes.

Prentiss, Rossi, and Garcia stare at them in dumbstruck confusion.

“For who?” Prentiss asks.

Derek and Spencer look at each other.

“It’s a surprise,” They answer in unison.

Before anyone can question them further, Hotch strides into the room, JJ right on his heels intently focused on her Blackberry, “Garcia, you’ve just been sent another file, can you pull it up for the group?”

Derek tenses when Hotch slides into the open seat next to him, scooting up to the table only inches away from Reid’s side. He’s all business though, not looking towards him. Derek lets himself relax as Garcia opens an image of a new hand written note on the screen.

“This was just sent to the station office at the Van Dorn street metro station,” JJ relays, “It’s just like all the others, but this one notes a specific time the device will detonate. 6:30PM—two hours from now.”

”I’m heading to the station now to meet the bomb squad. Morgan, as our expert on explosive devices, I want you with me. Everyone else—”

Reid raises his eyebrows, looking at Derek with panic in his eyes. Derek is the expert when it comes to bombs, but Hotch doesn’t realize he’s asking for the wrong man right now.

Thinking fast, Derek cuts into the conversation before he can give the rest of his orders, “Sir, I think I should go with you to the station.”

Hotch falls silent, looking at Derek in surprise, “Why, Reid?”

”Derek is the explosive expert, but the bomb squad will already be there. You need someone who has extensive knowledge of the metro system to better pinpoint where the UnSub would enter the station and plant the device.”

He furrows his brow, turning to Spencer, “Do you agree with that, Morgan?”

Spencer nods his head, “Yes, in fact, I’ll help Garcia pull up schematics of the station here and review security footage for anything that could help you both on the ground. The squad will be more than enough.”

”Ok… I trust your judgement. Don’t make me regret this,” Hotch acquiesces, “The rest of you I want you running point with the task force. If this is real, it will just be the beginning. We might be in for a long night.”

The team breaks, Spencer and Derek standing to follow Hotch out of the conference room.

Spencer hangs back far enough to whisper without Hotch overhearing, “Since when do you have extensive knowledge of the DC metro tracks?”

“I don’t, Genius. You and Garcia better be ready to feed me the information I need. It’s hell of a lot easier to text me directions to a tunnel than it is to defuse a bomb.”

”Ok. You’re right. I’m on it,” Spencer claps Derek on the shoulder in what is probably the first believable mannerism he’s managed all day, “Please don’t blow up Hotch before I can date him.”

”Ew, man.”

”Reid, let’s go,” Hotch barks over his shoulder, already halfway to the door.

“Yes, sir,”

Derek spares Spencer one final wary glance before following after. He’ll keep Hotch safe, but only because he doesn’t want to get Reid’s body blown up along with him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spencer rushes into Garcia’s office to find her already at her computer typing at the speed of light. He leans over her shoulder, one hand placed on the back of her chair, the other braced against the desk.

“Are you already pulling up the schematics of the metro station?”

“Oh! Derek—I mean Spence!” Her hands stutter on the keys, jumping a little at his presence, “Yes, I’m way ahead of you.”

Spencer grabs a nearby stool and then scoots in close next to her to see the screen. Derek’s vision is really so much better than his own. He doesn’t even need a print out like he normally would.

“Ok, if the station itself was clear earlier in the day, then the device must be on the tracks,” Spencer posits, waving his hands around in front of himself as he speaks, “They would likely need to use a ruse to access the service entrances, so we should be on the lookout for that in security footage. The UnSub may even work for the Transit Authority.”

”God, it’s weird to see you be your genius self in my hunk of man’s body,” Garcia says with a shiver, “Ok, here are all of the possible service entrances. I’m sending security footage to the rest of the team to review as we speak.”

Spencer pulls out Derek’s phone, typing as fast as he can on the tiny keys of his touch screen. Based on the maps, there is really only one way the UnSub could have made it onto the tracks without impeding train traffic or being noticed. He sends pictures for good measure along with his directions.

Penelope leans back from her computer with a sigh. There isn’t much more they can do until Hotch and Morgan arrive on the scene. They sit in silence, watching the security footage whizz by at three times speed in hopes they can spot someone suspicious at the entrance they predict was used.

“Do you think everything is going to be okay?” Penelope asks, voice small.

Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, “With the bomb or with our bodies?”

”Either,” She shrugs, “Both.”

”I hope so. I don’t want to be Derek forever.”

”I don’t want you to be Derek forever either. I need my chocolate thunder back. I can’t do this job without him.”

Penelope takes off her glasses to wipe a tear from her waterline, careful not to smudge her elaborate eyeshadow underneath. Spencer glances away from the screen with a frown.

“Penelope…” He says, reaching out to pat her shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. We can’t freak out yet.”

She springs forward out of her chair to hug Spencer, her hair clips digging into the muscles of Derek’s shoulder. Spencer attempts to hug her back, but after a moment, she pulls back with a whine of frustration.

“Ugh, this is all wrong! You feel like Derek, but you aren’t him. I love Derek’s body, but not if he isn't in it! What am I going to do if this is forever?”

“You love Derek?” Spencer asks, ignoring the rest of her spiral.

”Duh!”

“What about Kevin?”

”What about Kevin?” She snarks, ”He’s funny sometimes, and we share a lot of interests, but he’s nothing in comparison to my Adonis.”

Spencer continues watching the security footage out of the corner of his eye. What the hell have these two been waiting for? Despite being head over heels for one another, neither one of them can seem to seal the deal. It’s all making Spencer’s head spin.

“I think Derek thinks you two are an item,” Spencer muses absently.

He really is feeling dizzy out of nowhere. Maybe he should eat more. Derek is hungry no matter how many protein bars and trail mix packets he eats.

“Ew! We aren’t! Kevin just can’t take a hint.”

A knock on her office door interrupts their conversation. They both swivel to see Kevin standing awkwardly in the door, wringing his hands.

“Oh! Hi, there…I didn’t hear you come in…”

”Yeah…” He answers glumly, “I think maybe you should install a bell on the door to your office…”

She nods, cheeks pink, “…That’s a great idea, Kevin. Thank you for that.”

Spencer puts a hand to his head as another wave of dizziness overwhelms him, “Yeah, great one. Any ideas about how to get me back in my own body?”

Kevin straightens, putting on a brave face, “Right. I talked to the guys down at the lab. They weren’t very forthcoming with information about the trial because, well, I’m not really authorized to know anything about it…but I managed to get a little bit out of them.”

Spencer continues watching the security footage as Kevin speaks, noting that the same person has lingered by the service gate in more than one instance. He taps a button to slow the footage.

“Ok…say more,” Penelope prods.

“Apparently the rats exhibited signs of illness right before switching back. Almost like their bodies were rejecting the experiment.”

Multiple things happen at once.

Spencer points to the monitor as a short man in a navy blue jumpsuit forces open the gate to the train tracks. Penelope’s hands fly to the keys to enhance the footage. Spencer’s about to pull out his phone to dial his own phone number when he promptly spins away from Penelope to vomit on Kevin’s shoes.

He passes out after.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hotch has glanced in Derek's direction approximately ten thousand times during this car ride. If he were actually Spencer, he could probably count the exact amount, but unfortunately he is still very much himself in the wrong body.

Besides, he’s far too focused on committing as much of the information in Spencer’s texts to memory as he can while they speed down the highway. He and Garcia have done a good job, as always. They’ve narrowed it down to what he absolutely needs to know.

Everything will be alright. Just diffuse the bomb, detain the UnSub, and then we are free to torture Kevin until we are back to normal.

Derek’s inner pep talk is interrupted by Hotch clearing his throat. They haven’t spoken much outside of details about the case. Derek takes a deep breath, willing himself not to freak out entirely if Hotch makes another move. He’s been begging Spencer to let him be a wingman for years, and he’s declined every single time.

He’s not about to endorse this relationship, but the least he can do is keep it neutral enough Spencer can figure it out on his own at a later date.

“Do you really think you’re the best person for this operation?”

Derek bristles, offended on his friend’s behalf, “Do you doubt that I am?”

”Never,” Hotch answers, just as defensive, “I just wasn’t sure if you offered yourself for purely professional reasons.”

If only he knew why he actually offered.

“The job always comes first, you know that.”

”I do. Of course, I do.”

They fall into silence again. Hotch’s hands tense against the steering wheel and he swallows uneasily. That wasn’t very neutral, but it's hard for Derek to keep his own opinions out of this. Derek is grasping for anything he can say to assuage the situation when Hotch speaks again.

“I’m sorry. I know I was the one who wanted to take things slow, while still continuously pushing the boundaries of…whatever this is,” He takes an unsteady breath, resting a hand on the center console to look Derek’s direction, “but you’re right, as usual. We’ve both been lonely for far too long. Ever since you said that last night, it’s all I can notice.”

Fuck. These two might be soulmates.

Derek swallows his pride. He can’t screw this up for Spencer. His friend has been a shut in as long as he’s known him. He deserves someone, and if Hotch is what it takes for someone to put up with his quirks, then Hotch is what he gets.

Derek rests a hand over Hotch’s, unsure what to say that won’t make him throw up in his mouth. Spencer’s stomach is doing enough flips as it is.

Hotch squeezes his hand, “I just want you. More than ever.”

“Me too…” Derek mutters lamely.

It must not be lame to Hotch. He looks over with a sappy smile. Derek thinks he might actually vomit, his stomach twisting once more.

It doesn’t go any further. The train station comes into view and effectively shatters the romantic overtone in the small cab of the SUV. Hotch smiles at him one final time and then his face shifts back into the stiff mask of his Unit Chief facade.

With two bomb squad unit members in tow, Derek directs them to the proper service entrance from Spencer and Penelope’s instructions. Derek’s head swims as they navigate the tunnels, but he’s fairly certain he’s leading them in the right direction.

They’re fairly deep in the tunnels when Spencer’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Penelope’s name flashes on the caller ID. He holds up a hand to pause the group and answer the call in a hushed tone. The room is spinning.

”Dr. Reid Speaking—“

Penelope barrels right over him, “Ok two things: One—Spencer just vomited all over the place and then passed out. Two—The UnSub entered the service gate less than thirty minutes ago, and as far as we know is still in the tunnel.”

”Thanks, Baby girl,” Derek answers before he can think better of it. He really can’t think straight.

He hangs up the phone and turns to Hotch, stumbling slightly. Hotch grabs him by the arm.

”What is it, Reid?”

”The UnSub,” Derek slurs, looking into the dark tunnel ahead of them when something moves out of the corner of his eye.

”What about him?”

”He’s right there.”

Derek points over Hotch’s shoulder with a limp wrist and then promptly collapses to the ground.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Spencer? Spencer, wake up, please!”

Derek groans, the movement of whoever is grasping him making his sore shoulders burn. His stomach is in knots, he’s sweating his ass off, and he feels disoriented. Hadn’t he just been looking at the UnSub?

Derek’s eyes snap open as he sits up abruptly. Only he’s not in a damp, dirty train tunnel with his unit chief anymore. He’s in Penelope’s office back at the BAU.

”Baby girl?” Derek gasps as he looks down at his hands—his own strong, broad hands, “Holy shit! I’m me again!”

He’s looking around at the mess of vomit on the floor and Kevin standing white-faced overtop of him. There isn’t time to consider much else, before he gets an armful of blonde, bubbly tech-goddess.

“It’s you! It’s finally you! Oh, Thank God!”

Penelope is kissing him before he can even think to respond.

There are several seconds where Derek is frozen in shock. This morning he dragged Reid to Garcia’s office hopeful—always hopeful—he could make a little progress charming the woman who has been the center of his world for longer than anyone ever has been before. After everything he’s been through, the kiss feels like heaven.

Please be real.

Derek kisses her back with everything he has, one hand holding the back of her head, the other grabbing a handful of that gorgeous ass he’s been waiting to get his hands on for an eternity.

The moment is interrupted by a grating voice, “Uh guys…”

Derek ignores Kevin, adding his presence in one of the most important moments of his life to the ever growing list of reasons he will kick this dude’s ass. He holds Penelope tighter to him.

“Guys!”

”What!” He and Penelope yell in unison.

”Garcia’s monitor is flashing with a message that shots have been fired at the station and an explosion may be imminent.”

Derek releases Penelope, “Fuck! Reid and Hotch are about to get blown sky high!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The ground moves underneath Spencer, shaking him side to side. He attempts to blink his eyes open, but it’s dark and his vision sways in time with the earth. God, his head hurts. It’s cold here.

“C’mon, Reid, wake up…” Hotch murmurs from above him, breath labored.

Hotch! But that means…

Spencer pries his eyes open once again, squinting through the dark. He’s not on the ground at all, he’s cradled in Hotch’s arms as he trudges towards the service door to get out of the tunnel.

“Aaron!”

The man’s head snaps down, relief softening his features, “What the hell happened? You passed out right as the UnSub snuck up on us.”

Spencer is so lost.

”The UnSub? Where is he now?”

”I shot him in the leg. He dropped a suspicious box. I’m getting us out of here while the bomb squad investigates the device.”

“You carried me all this way?” Spencer asks with a dreamy sigh.

”You were unconscious, Spence. In fact, can you walk?”

Spencer nods and Hotch sets him down at the base of the stairs leading up to the exit, “Let’s go. You first.”

Spencer does as he’s told and climbs the steps, squinting against the sun as he opens the service gate at the top. Hotch is right behind him, sweat on his brow as he speaks into the mouthpiece at his wrist.

Spencer feels around his bullet proof vest for his earpiece, sliding it back into his ear to listen to the police chatter, Hotch’s hushed voice the first thing he hears.

“SSA Hotchner to Bomb squad. We’ve made it to the surface. Do you read me? Has the device been neutralized?”

”Loud and clear. There is no device to neutralize. This guy was bluffing. We’ve apprehended the suspect and are bringing him to the surface now.”

“Copy.”

Hotch waves police personnel over and relays this information. Afterwards, he approaches Spencer where he stands blearilly off to the side of the commotion.

“Are you okay? There’s an ambulance waiting.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I don’t need an ambulance.”

”Spencer—“

Spencer doesn’t want to hear another word of Hotch’s protests. He shuts him down by throwing his arms around his neck and pulling him in for a haphazard kiss. Hotch kisses him back, hands coming up to hold Spencer’s face between them.

Hotch breaks away, still close enough to breathe the same air, “We were going to wait.”

”Fuck waiting.”

Spencer holds the back of his head with one hand, the other skating down Hotch’s back to grab a handful of that gorgeous ass he’s been waiting to get his hands on for an eternity.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

”How did you guys know Kevin Lynch was going to be sent to a research base in Antarctica before anyone else?” Emily asks, swirling the remainder of her martini around in the glass.

They are gathered in a bar near Quantico to celebrate, the place decked out with a myriad of icy blue decorations and a banner that reads, ‘Bon Voyage Kevin!’. Later on there will be a cake.

Spencer shrugs, taking a deep pull of his sixth mocktail of the evening so far, “You know how Kevin is.”

“Yeah, he can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Derek says with a nudge to Prentiss’ other side.

JJ snorts, “I didn’t realize you all were that close of friends. This seems like an expensive surprise party.”

”Nothing but the best for our pal Kevin!” Garcia laughs, bordering on hysterical where she hangs off Derek's arm, far too many drinks in her to be standing on her own. She raises a glass in the air with a cheer, “To Kevin!”

Spencer raises his glass along with everyone else and drains the remainder of his fizzy, fruity drink. He scans the party. It’s crowded, groups of people from the bureau milling about in clumps between the buffet catered by Spencer’s favorite restaurant. This bar is Derek’s favorite, and the drinks are free. Kevin is footing the bill, as per their agreed upon arrangement.

He spots the object of his search at the bar waiting for his own drink. Spencer slinks up beside him, sharing a private smile they have both grown to love.

”Hey, there,” Hotch says with a nod to Spencer’s empty drink, “Another?”

”Sure.”

Hotch places the order and leans against the bar far closer to Spencer than he probably should be with this many of their coworkers around to gawk at them, “You seem happy. The energy of the party getting to you?”

“Nope,” Spencer hums, overlapping his pinky finger with Hotch’s where their hands rest next to each other on the bar top.

”What is it then?”

Spencer observes Derek and Penelope dancing together despite there being no dance floor or really any music playing in the dim bar. He turns back to Hotch with a smile.

“Just feeling really happy to be myself.”