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Chapter Text

Almost as soon as Derek’s knuckles had rapped an upbeat pattern against Penelope Garcia’s apartment door, the damn thing was nearly swung off its hinges as the flat’s resident greeted him with a toothy grin. 

“Der Bear!” She cheered, her red-tinged cheeks not the only indicator to Derek that the gathering had already gotten into the alcohol before his arrival. 

“Baby Girl,” he smiled, wrapping the arm that wasn’t carrying more wine around her waist as she pulled him into her apartment, kicking the door shut behind them. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Prentiss’ voice carried from the circular dining table that the rest of the gathering had situated themselves around. 

He shot a rude hand gesture toward her as Penelope herded him toward the table, pointing toward the one empty seat, not surrounded by brightly coloured paper and plastic. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Hotch chuckled from his left. Derek shrugged to hide the uncomfortable truth that he was considering skipping the evening due to an recent awkward conversation with one of the group members. 

“If Reid can get here on time with only one working leg, you have no excuse,” JJ teased from across the table, elbowing Spencer who sat to her right, across from Hotch. 

“Is Rossi not coming?” Prentiss asked in between Hotch and Reid, looking around at the table clearly only set for six. 

“He said, and I quote ‘you could not pay me enough to play that nerd shit with you guys’,” Reid recalled, making a point of not looking in Morgan’s direction. 

“Well, he’s missing out,” Garcia pouted, taking a seat behind the cardboard divider protecting her piles of paper from the view of the players at her table, covered in detailed drawings of dragons soaring over rocky peaks. “Spence and I have been playing Dungeons and Dragons for years now with some of our geekier friends. I’m so glad you guys let us talk you into playing a campaign with us.” 

“Well, I’m not sure I’m here completely of my own free will,” Hotch joked, cracking one of his rare smiles. “But if this gets me back on your good side, then so be it.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Penelope hummed, clearly pleased with herself. “Now that my intrepid adventurers are all here, there are snacks and alcohol galore, let’s get started, shall we?” 

Derek looked down at the sheets of paper and notebook Penelope had given him. A quick glance around the table told him that everyone had been gifted a different coloured notebook; Hotch's beside him was yellow, Prentiss’ was black, JJ’s was a forest green, and Reid's was deep blue. He didn’t let his eyes linger near Reid for too long. His notebook was a worn leather brown with a hand-painted symbol decorating the cover in jet black ink. A shield with a sword and battle axe crossed behind it. He had no idea what it meant, but it looked cool. 

“Welcome all, to the beautiful, dangerous, vast, and magical land of the Faerûn,” Penelope said, sweeping her arms across the table that certainly didn’t look like a fantasy continent just yet. “You five have been selected for your talents and prestige for a highly secretive and lucrative quest that will be revealed to you soon. You find yourself in a crowded tavern, the noise of patrons enjoying their evenings around you, the sweet strumming of a lute from a performing bard accompanies the ale and food before you at a circular table, not unlike this one. You sit amongst four strangers. Your new co-questers that you will embark upon this mysterious journey with. Questers, let’s go around the table and introduce our characters to each other. 187, wanna start us off?” 

Reid cleared their throat, tucking their shoulder-length hair behind their ear before launching into what Derek assumed was a pre-rehearsed speech knowing the kid. “Sitting wrapped in a deep purple cloak is a tall fellow whose eyes are scanning their companions. They have half-elf features, softly pointed ears poking through their light brown hair. I’m playing a Wizard, Order of Scribes.” 

“We don’t have to wax poetic like that, do we?” Prentiss asked, voicing the question Derek is sure was on all their minds. 

“No, no,” Garcia thankfully shook her head. “Just your race and your class if you want. But a little bit about what your character looks like would be cool too. Jayje? Wanna go next?” 

“Sure,” JJ said. “I’m playing a Wood Elf who is a Ranger, I’m not going to lie, I'm not entirely sure what that means but I’m happy to find out. Oh, it says here that I have a Hunter specialty. And, as for what I look like… I guess just like how I look in real life?” 

“Awesome, Ems?” 

“Right, so I’m a Tiefling which is like a half-demon, half-human so I have devil horns that come out of my head and my eyes are all black like I have those creepy full eye lenses in. I’m an Assassin Rogue class so I’m super stealthy and cool.” 

“I guess I’ll go next,” Hotch said, picking up his paper and reading off it. “I’m a Human Paladin who took an Oath of…  where is it?” 

“Devotion,” Penelope prompted him. 

‘Thank you,” he nodded. “I didn’t know we could change what we looked like so I also just look like me, I guess.” 

The eyes of the table fell on Derek, well, except for Reid who was scribbling away on the first pages of their journal but their pen had fallen still, as if waiting for him. 

“I joined last minute so I asked Garcia to make me the easiest character to figure out,” he explained. “It says here I’m a Human Fighter Champion who specialises in Protection fighting style. Baby Girl, I know I said make it simple but Protection doesn’t sound very badass. You said this would be badass.” 

“Protecting your party is badass,” she argued. 

“When a creature you can see attacks a target other than you that is within five feet of you, you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage on the attack roll. You must be wielding a shield,” Reid said as if on autopilot, in that tone of voice that told Derek he had recited that verbatim from somewhere.

“Whatever that means,” Derek scoffed but immediately regretted it upon seeing the way the genius flinched at his words. 

“Anyways, travellers, let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Garcia called their attention. “As the five of you sit around the table, a stranger approaches you. Her face is hidden under a hooded cloak, but even with that barrier, you can tell that she is beautiful, ethereal even. Little do you know, this woman is soon to be your guide and benefactor in your perilous journey. 

Even Derek had to admit that the game was more fun than he thought it would be. The pile of dice in front of him was still rather intimidating with plastic shapes he had no idea existed before. 

He started to understand what all the numbers on his papers meant and that he should probably be writing some notes in his journal but decided to leave that to the others. 

Everyone seemed to be following Reid’s calls as they knew the game best. Derek figured out that he could ask Garcia if he could do something as she would ask him to roll the largest die and add whatever number was on his sheet next to the appropriate skill. This turned out to be particularly funny when he asked Garcia if he could flirt with the barmaid and while the sheet said he could add one point to the roll, the damned thing still came up with its glaring ‘2’. 

“She looks at you, unsmiling,” Garcia said, stifling a laugh. “And she says, ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I’m a lesbian’.” 

While the whole table burst into laughter at his failure, Derek couldn’t help but chuckle along too, even catching Reid’s eye who, to his disappointment, was forcing their laughter. 

The night came to an end after the team had defeated a group of goblins who had come to cause trouble in the tavern. Derek would never admit it aloud, but there was a certain thrill as he watched his dice clatter across the table as he imagined his character winding up his sword to take a swing at one of their enemies. 

Garcia was an excellent storyteller and the entire scene was so clear to him the whole time, it almost felt like he was there. As Prentiss’s character received what Garcia called a critical hit from one of the goblins, Derek held his breath until one of JJ’s arrows sunk into the goblin's head and Prentiss was able to make her character limp away from the conflict. 

“Wasn’t that fun!” Garcia beamed as she closed a heavy book she was using for their fight. “I hope we can find another evening soon where we can continue. I know we have cases and lives and everything but this was really fun!” 

“Sure thing, Baby Girl,” Derek smiled, feeling a little tired now, the weight of the day must have been getting to him. 

“Thank you for the lovely evening, I will see you all tomorrow morning,” Hotch nodded, picking up his coat from the back of his chair. 

“Later, Bossman,” Prentiss waved as she reached over to hand Reid their cane. 

Derek moved to stand but quickly realised how the movement made his head spin and stomach churn. He hadn’t had that much wine, right? Maybe he should crash here tonight, he had quite a high tolerance for alcohol but if his vision was blurring at the edges like this, he definitely should be driving. 

“Hey, does anyone else feel..” JJ never finished her sentence as she pushed herself to her feet before she crashed down to the floor. 

Hotch and Prentiss were kneeling by her side in an instant, hands reaching for her pulse and trying to keep her upright. 

“Oh, God, JJ!” Garcia whimpered, making her way around the table with Morgan to see her. 

“I actually, uh, guys, I um, don’t feel good either,” Reid stammered before crashing to the floor beside Prentiss. 

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Garcia squeaked, grabbing her phone as she and Morgan crouched beside the two prone bodies. 

“We’ve all been dosed with something,” Hotch grunted. “JJ, Reid… smallest… Prentiss? Garcia?” 

Derek quickly ran the probabilities in his head and took Garcia’s phone from her hands just as she fell forward into Hotch, taking them both down. His size gave him an advantage to enduring whatever was flooding their systems, allowing him to dial 911 just as Prentiss dropped over JJ with a whimper of his name. 

“Nine-One-One, what is your emergency?” 

Derek grunted, forcing his eyes to remain open, the hand holding the phone in front of him beginning to shake with effort. He tried to force out something that sounded like words but all that escaped was a garbled mess. 

“Sir, are you okay? Is there anyone with you right now?” 

Derek was losing the battle with his consciousness. He looked across the pile of bodies, shallowly breathing and absolutely vunerable. He had to stay awake, he had to protect them. He saw Reid, lying furthest away from the pile. Some foreign feeling in his gut told him that they shouldn’t be lying alone and he ignored the operator’s questions to try and force himself into a crawl towards the crumpled body. 

He barely made it two feet before his body collapsed onto the floorboards. His body felt like lead and his vision was barely distinguishing any shapes anymore, let alone features. With great pains, Derek extended his arm toward the dark blue blob that must be Spencer’s sweater. Just as his fingers brush against soft wool, Derek’s vision went black. 

Derek’s eyes shot open to be greeted with a sky painted pink and orange in the midst of twilight. Two figures quickly entered his peripheral vision and their hands wrapped around his forearms to haul him to his feet 

“Ugh, what’s going on?” He groaned as he steadied himself on his feet. He brough a hand to his face to rub the dreariness from his eyes but immediately froze upon realising he was wearing gloves. Black leather gloves. 

He looked down at himself with wide eyes. Brown leather covered his torso with an insignia he did not recognise etched above his breastbone over a red, thigh length tunic. The belt around his waist was heavy with a weighty pouch and two small hand axes on his right hip and a beautifully etched sword sheath on his left. 

Everything down to his leather pants and boots was entirely foreign to him, like he had just walked out of a Lord of the Rings movie. Finally looking around, he spun on his heel to see an equally confused gathering of people dressed in similar medieval fantasy attire. He quickly realised that the gathered company were in fact his coworkers and friends, but last time he checked, Prentiss’ skin wasn’t tinged red, nor did she have pointed horns protruding from her forehead. He was pretty sure Hotch didn’t wear chain link armour over his tunics, nor did he wear tunics at all. He had hung out with JJ on many occasions but she had never mentioned the large bow and quiver strapped to her back and Reid - who was using her arm as a support - certainly didn’t have pointed ears holding back their long hair. 

“What the hell is going on?” Is all he could manage. 

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Garcia sighed. Something about her was different too, aside from the medieval dress she wore but Derek couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

“I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Reid asked. “Insane, but obvious?” 

Everyone looked blankly at the genius who seemed more focused on keeping their balance. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Okay, Sherlock,” Prentiss grumbled. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in Faerûn.” 

Chapter Text

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Morgan glowered.

“Look at us,” Reid shrugged. “We all appear exactly as we described our characters in the game we were just playing. We were knocked out and now we’ve been transported to the Forgotten Realms, the canonical setting of Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Spence, it’s only a game,” JJ said calmly. Without words, Reid took her hand that wasn’t helping support them and lifted it to the side of her head, pressing her fingers into her hair where her ear would be. 

“What is it?” Hotch asked worriedly as she shrieked and almost threw Spencer off of her. 

“It’s… look!” JJ tucked her hair behind her ear, to reveal a sharp point, significantly more pronounced than Spencer’s. 

“Oh, that’s great,” Prentiss huffed. “Did you not see the fact that I have horns!?” 

“Why did you get horns and I couldn’t get a working knee?” Reid complained. 

The group descended into shouting over the top of one another as heavy confusion settled over all of them.

“Enough!” Penelope’s shrill voice silenced them. “None of this makes any sense, sure, but standing around and yelling at each other isn’t going to get us back! Here’s what we know; we have been transported somewhere and now we look like our DnD characters. We’re in a field, how do you know this is Faerûn, Spencer?” 

Reid flicked their cloak back to reveal a large pouch on their belt, pulled at the drawstring and fished around for something. They plucked out a small piece of material - fleece? - and held it in front of them. 

For a moment, nothing happened, everyone watching in confused silence until Spencer spoke “Fireworks.”

The fabric blackened and curled in on itself as if wounded by an invisible flame, and, even more spectacularly, small, noiseless multicoloured fireworks began bursting around Reid and JJ’s heads, dropping everyone’s jaw open. 

“How did you-”

“There, definitely Faerûn,” Spencer nodded before Prentiss could finish her question, dismissing the fireworks with a wave of their hand. “No magic where we’re from.” 

“Does that mean…” Hotch trailed off, looking at his hands. 

“Oh, yes!” Garcia said, a little too excitedly. “Hotch, you’re a Paladin! You can cast spells too! So can JJ! And me, if I’m dressed like you guys’ guide that means…” 

Penelope shut her eyes tight and before Derek could step in, two silvery insect-like wings manifested on her back. 

“Woah,” Prentiss gawked. 

“Ah!” Garcia laughed. “I’m a faerie! This would be so cool if this whole thing wasn’t absolutely insane.” 

“You mean, you tricked our party into making a deal with a fae?” Spencer narrowed their eyes at Garcia but shook their head. “Not the point. We need to find out exactly where we are and then get to a library. The mechanics of a Wizard character determine that to learn a spell it needs to be copied down from an original text. I need to think on what spell would take us home though and-”

“You’re enjoying this aren't you?” Derek accused, unable to believe how they were acting. “This is absolutely hilarious to you, isn’t it Reid? Look at you doing magic tricks and talking garbage about fairies and shit. You do realise that this clearly isn’t your stupid game, it’s real life now, could you at least act like we’re in danger?” 

“Morgan!” Hotch snapped. “Take a walk, now.” 

“What the hell, man?” 

“The tree line,” Hotch pointed without removing his glare from Derek’s eyes. “It’s getting dark, we need to find camp for the night and we'll discuss this in the morning. Find something Reid can use as a cane or you’re carrying them.” 

“You can’t be serious?” Derek glared, refusing to look back at the genius who was shaking in his peripheral vision.

“Yelling at Reid isn’t going to get us home. If they’re right, they’re our best hope to get out of here. Cane. Now!” 

With a huff, Derek stormed off toward the tree line at the edge of the meadow. Hotch was right, which was infinitely more frustrating. As much as Reid was infuriatingly excited at this whole situation, it’s not like Derek had any bright ideas about how to bring them home. He’d rather die than admit that to the kid, so he focused on finding a branch that he could fashion into something like a cane. 

The sun had set by the time Derek trod back to the group who were all either pacing across the grass or sat in it. He threw the sturdy branch he had found at the ground in front of Reid who was reading intently from a leather-bound book that appeared ancient. 

“So, it’s settled then,” said Prentiss who was fiddling with something thin and leathery red which Morgan quickly realised was coming out of her. A speared tail. Jesus Christ. “Penelope, it’s your world. You’re our guide here.” 

“I mean, between Dr Eidetic Memory and I, we should be able to at least find our way around,” Garcia said bashfully, her silvery wings that appeared earlier hidden from sight again. 

“And once we know where we are, we get to a library so Reid can find us a spell to take us home,” Hotch nodded. 

“Right, a spell,” Morgan muttered, which earned him a fiery glare from Hotch that somehow seemed more intense than usual, as if there really was fire behind his dark eyes. It must just be the exhaustion. 

“There’s several thin smoke trails from down there,” JJ pointed out across the field. “Do you reckon there’s any chance they’re going to be friendly?” 

“Most likely,” Reid hummed, closing their book. “A band of thieves wouldn’t draw attention to themselves by lighting a fire, nor would there be so many. It looks to me like we must have landed just outside a small village.” 

“Village?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, they had villages in medieval times,” JJ glared. 

“Yeah, I know that,” Morgan bit back. “You know what they also had? Plague and-”

“Enough,” Hotch cut him off, marching past to help Reid to their feet. “We’re going, now.” 

Morgan was left speechless as the team turned their backs on him and began walking, in Reid’s case hobbling, with the curling smoke in the night sky as their guide. Not particularly liking the idea of being left alone in the dark, Morgan caught up with them with several long strides. 

As the group made their way across what initially seemed like a never ending meadow, small structures began to come into sight, barns and fences grew from dark specks in their vision to their full size as they approached. 

Soon, the grass turned to dirt, then to a cobbled path and a small settlement rose up around them. 

Warm light shone through foggy windows of the stone and wood buildings that seemed to have been thrown about with no rhyme or reason. The sounds of chatter and smells of cooking meat wafted through the air. A group of men, dusty and blackened by dirt, wandered into town from another winding cobbled path from a day of work laughing heartily and jostling one another. 

“Anyone know where we are yet?” JJ asked no one in particular. 

“We’ll have to ask,” Garcia replied, looking around nervously. “There’s got to be an inn around here where we can stay the night.” 

“Yeah? And they’re going to let us stay just because of our handsome good looks?” Morgan prodded sourly. 

“Check the pouch on your belt,” Reid said without looking back at him.

Morgan looked down and saw the ornate sword strapped to his left hip and the two hand axes on his right. Beside them was the leather pouch he hadn’t opened yet so, pulling the drawstring, he took a look inside and was greeted by the sight of a handful of silver coins and a single gleaming gold piece inside. Okay, so there was currency. He plucked out a silver piece, turning it over in his fingers and examining the strange markings and unidentifiable animal stamped onto its face. 

“Guys, tavern, two o'clock,” Penelope caught their attention, pointing toward the largest building in the square that they had found themselves in, a wooden beam across the entrance reading Stonehill Inn. 

The place had a steady stream of patrons filing into its open door and into the warmth inside, the sound of a stringed instrument just penetrated above the noise of its patrons. 

“Any chance that you recognise the name, Reid?” Hotch asked. 

“You know, I don’t actually know everything right?” Reid said flatly. “There are hundreds of sourcebooks and supplemental materials for fifth edition Dungeons of Dragons. I haven’t actually read them all.” 

“Should we, you know, go in?” Prentiss asked. 

“Hopefully they have enough accommodation for us,” Garcia said, eyeing the second floor. “Come on, I’m not made for camping.” 

Derek found himself reluctantly following the others into the bustling tavern, which upon closer inspection, wasn’t all that different to a proper bar in his world. 

There were wooden tables spread across a creaking floor with drinking, eating, and chatting patrons smattered across them. Some seemed to have the same pointed ears as JJ and Reid while some were shorter, all of which were sporting long beards and gruff faces. Derek’s brain supplied the word dwarves and recalled Tolkienesque depictions from films he had seen a few years ago. 

JJ had found an empty round table close to the wall of the establishment and the group each fell into a seat around it, the sound of the small guitar-like instrument now even clearer from here. 

“Okay, we need to lay low,” Reid said. “The less attention we draw ourselves while we’re here the better.” 

“I’ll go see the barkeep and ask about rooms,” Garcia proposed. “Hopefully we don’t have to give up too much of our coin in case we need it later.” 

The inn had three small rooms available at five silver pieces each. The team quietly went upstairs to settle in, Garcia immediately calling ‘dibs’ on Morgan, Prentiss and JJ heading off together, leaving Reid and Hotch as bunk mates. 

Morgan stared at the small bed wedged between the wall and a shared nightstand that was to be his cot for the night. Even just from looking at it, he knew that his legs would easily hang off of the end and there would be hardly any room to flat on his back as he usually would. The mattress itself was barely two inches thick and presumably stuffed with straw from its lumpy appearance. 

“Alright, you’re all good, sweetcheeks,” Garcia spoke, letting him know that she had finished changing out of her sturdy outer layer and into the softer clothes she found tucked in the small pack that was strapped to her back. 

In Derek’s own pack, there seemed only a pair of linen pants to change into in his pack so he decided to keep the soft tunic on beneath the leather breast piece to protect from the chill that was creeping in through the cracks between the window and the wall. 

He set his armour and leather gear on the floor at the end of his bed, his weapons and pouch atop it, unsure of how he should store it. The lock on the door seemed intact and the inn respectable enough that he decided not to worry about it too much. 

When he turned back to his temporary roommate, he was surprised to see her kneeling by the window with clasped hands under her chin, looking up to endless constellations in the night sky. To the best of his knowledge, Garcia wasn’t religious, he had never heard her speak about any beliefs she held let alone had seen her pray. 

“I thought I’d give it a shot,” she said, seemingly feeling Derek’s eyes on her. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” he grunted, sitting back on his bed, letting his head fall into his hands. 

“No, I mean, not like that,” she went on, the sound of her getting to her feet reaching Derek’s ears. “I’m a Cleric, right. If you all have become your characters, I have become the NPC I was playing the most in our session. And she was a Faerie Cleric. Cleric’s get their magic by praying to their patron deity, so I thought I’d make sure I’m prepared for tomorrow.” 

Derek looked up at her with tired eyes. “How good are the odds that we all wake up tomorrow morning back home, do you think?” 

Penelope grimaced before sitting next to him on the bed, taking one of his hands into her smaller ones. “This is really scary, isn’t it? I mean, I’m trying to keep my whole glass-half-full thing going on because I know that we’re going to get home but it’s… a lot.” 

“Yeah,” Derek breathed. “Look, it’s been a long day, let’s just get some sleep, Baby Girl.” 

Penelope seemed to brighten a little from the nickname despite the sombre mood. “You got it, sugar.” 

Derek watched her walk the few feet across the room to her own equally uncomfortable looking bed and as they both lay their heads to rest, he stared at the dark dusty ceiling and sighed. 

Maybe Penelope had a point in praying. It felt like the only thing to do in such a hopeless situation. But Derek supposed that the only God he knew wouldn’t be able to hear him from here. 

Chapter Text

Breakfast at the tavern was just a small loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, and quite possibly the juiciest apple Derek had eaten in his life. It wasn’t quite the protein shake or eggs and bacon he was used to but, he reminded himself, that he wasn’t staying here long. 

“Phandalin, that’s what the barkeep said?” Reid asked after taking a long sip of water to wash down the dry bread. 

“I mean, at least that confirms that we are in Faerûn,” Penelope nodded. “What do you know about this place?” 

“It’s a relatively small town but it is close to the Sword Coasts’ High Road which will help us get down to Waterdeep.” 

“Waterdeep?” Hotch frowned. 

“A city south of here,” Reid explained. “It has one of the largest libraries on the Sword Coast. We should be able to find what we need there. There are a few spells I want to look into that could get us home. I know their names but I’ve never played a character who has learned them so I never got around to reading their rules in our world.” 

“So, any idea of how to get there?” Derek asked, using his fork to gesture at the two of them. 

Garcia's uneasy expression immediately tipped Morgan off to the fact that no good news was going to come from her mouth. “Well, I spoke to some locals while I got us breakfast and it’s going to be about a …months journey on foot. But two weeks if we can get some horses!” 

“Two weeks?” Prentiss groaned. 

“The hell do you mean ‘two weeks’?” Derek frowned. 

“Two weeks? We get to the city, you learn the spell, and then we go home?” Hotch clarified. 

“Well, there's the issue of levels,” Reid muttered as if ashamed to admit it. 

“What do you mean, levels?” JJ asked. 

“We started our campaign as level three characters,” Reid explained. “We come here and my spell book reflects that. A level three Wizard can only cast up to second-level spells. Plane Shift, the best bet for us returning home is a seventh-level spell.” 

“And for those of us who don’t play this game?” Prentiss sighed. 

“Wizards can only cast seventh-level spells at level thirteen.” 

The entire table burst into groans at Reid’s meek admittance. 

“So, if we get there and you can’t do the magic, how do we ‘level up’?” Hotch asked rationally, silencing the complaints with a glare. 

Garcia and Reid shared a look that Morgan didn’t like one bit. 

“We need to go on a quest, right?” JJ said, earning confused frowns from the table. “What? I’ve played video games before.” 

“No. No way,” Morgan protested, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m not doing no questing bullshit.” 

“Morgan,” Hotch hissed. “You’re not the only one here upset that we’re in this position. But I have a son waiting for me and I’m going to do what I have to do to get back to him. You’re welcome to do the same or sit and sulk here. Up to you.” 

The force with which Hotch’s words hit him felt like a slap across the face, quite literally. Even though anger burst inside of him, Derek’s throat had almost closed up to stop any snarky response from flying out back into his boss’ face. 

“Yelling isn’t going to get us home,” JJ pointed at the two of them. “Let’s just focus on one thing at a time. Waterdeep and how we’re supposed to get there 'cause we can’t do it on foot.” 

“You folks need to head down to Waterdeep?” 

Every head at the table turned slowly to see a stockily built man dressed in a long beige tunic and heavy leather boots, his face worn from years working in the sun and the elements. He had a round figure and a wide-eyed expression of interest on his stubbly face. 

“Uh, yeah,” Garcia spoke up. “Just passing through on our way.” 

“You couldn’t have shown up at a better time,” the man laughed. “Name’s Weston, I have business down in the city. I own the orchard outside of town and them city folk love good old fashioned country-grown fruit, I can usually make enough coin to keep me and the missus comfortable for a couple of moons just in a few days. But my wife actually gave birth a few weeks ago and I can’t bring the baby with us for such a long journey. I have two horses and a cart that I could lend youse in exchange for delivering my goods to my buddy’s shop.” 

“That’s a kind offer, uh, Weston was it?” Hotch broke the stunned silence of the group. The man nodded. “But we’ll have no way of returning the horses or the money to you, it’s more of a one-way trip.” 

The man chuckled. “That’s alright. My buddy usually comes back with me anyway to sell his cloth. It’s our agreement. He brings his own beast alongside mine. I’ll right youse a letter to take with you.” 

“Thank you, but we’ll need more than two horses for the six of us,” JJ supplied. 

“You know what, I have a mate of mine who owns a ranch outside of town whose having a bit of trouble on his land. I can vouch for you travellers and I’m sure for a favour he’d lend you some of his horses,” Weston said before laying a calloused hand on Reid’s shoulder which they shuddered at but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You got a bum leg, boy? I saw your staff when youse were coming down to break your fast. You’ll have to double up anyway, can’t ride like that.” 

The table was stunned and turned to one another with concerned glances. Morgan was shocked that they were even considering this. They didn’t know this guy. They didn’t even know how to ride horses in the first place! 

The ranch owner, Burchard Wood, looked the band of misplaced misfits up and down after an excited Weston had brought them to his door. 

“These guys heroes?” He drawled, unimpressed. 

“Yes, we’re heroes, mister!” Garcia answered abruptly with alarming enthusiasm, not leaving room for anyone to disagree. 

Wood sighed. “My cattle keep going missin', we hear them screamin’ in the middle of the night but by the time we come out to check what’s going on, they’re missin’. We caught a glimpse of something disappearin' into the woods the other night. Some sort of creature is taking ‘em for sure.” 

“A creature?” Derek raised an eyebrow but was quickly elbowed in the ribs for his statement. 

“Team huddle, please?” Garcia said, glaring up at Morgan before turning to the others. 

“What exactly are we doing here?” Prentiss asked seriously. 

“We’re going to go kill a cattle-eating creature in the woods, I thought that was very self-explanatory,” Reid replied with a hint of sarcasm. 

“There’s no such thi-”

“This isn’t Earth, remember,” Reid cut him off, looking directly at him for the first time in almost two days now. “Faerûn rules. There’s magic, there’s bovine devouring monsters, and there’s no other choice if we want to get home.” 

“Reid’s right, but how exactly are we planning to do this? We don’t have any firearms,” Hotch pointed out. 

“Well, that big old stick by your side isn’t just for decoration, sir,” Garcia nodded to the large sword strapped to Hotch’s hip. Before anyone could get a word in to respond, Penelope turned around and beamed at the ranch owner. “We’re the right team for the task, just lead the way and we’ll take care of your problem for you.” 

Derek felt the need to interject, reminding her that yes, while he did have a sword as well, he didn’t actually know how to use it!

“Berch, they’re just looking to borrow a few horses,” Weston said. “Three of your fastest to make it down to Waterdeep. My business partner down there will bring them back before the next moon.” 

“I guess that’s alright then,” Wood nodded, assessing the party one last time. “Alright, you got a deal. I saw the bugger scurry into the out of sight behind the barn out back. Should be easy enough to find.”

Berchand clearly seemed finished with the matter as he turned and headed back inside his homestead, leaving the team standing on the dirt path with Weston. 

“Alright, you lot seem to have this handled,” Weston said with more confidence in them than they had combined. “When you’re done, come down to my orchard down the way. I’ll load up the cart so if you’re done before noon, you can head on the road.” 

“Thanks for your help,” JJ said, hiding a grimace. “We’ll, ah, get right to it.” 

With that, Weston offered them a cheery wave before turning to whistle his way down the worn dirt road, leaving the group standing stunned and alone with a daunting task ahead of them. 

“Anyone else think that this is ridiculous?” Morgan huffed. 

“Anyone else want to do whatever they can to get home?” Prentiss countered passive-aggressively. 

“We need a plan going in,” said Reid, moving in between Prentiss and Morgan in order to prevent the building conflict between them. “We don’t know how to use our weapons, let alone control our magic so let’s be smart about this.” 

“We gotta think about this as a party,” Garcia chimed in. “We know that our abilities are in line with the game rules. So let’s play by the rules. Jayje, you’re a tracker so you’re up first. Hotch as our Paladin, you’re our wall and the first line of defence. Horns, Gandalf, and I make up the middle, and Der you take up the rear as our protection.” 

“Garcia, that’s all well and good but I don’t actually know how to hunt, remember?” JJ placed a hand on her arm. “I could barely shoot if I needed to. I haven’t picked up a bow since middle school summer camp.” 

“Muscle memory,” Reid said abruptly, earning the gazes of his team falling on them. “I was looking at my dagger last night and I already knew exactly how to hold it, exactly what to do if I needed to use it. I felt it, like I had used one for years.” 

“That’s what you were doing?” Hotch raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were trying to take someone’s eye out.” 

“So, it’s settled, we’re doing this?” Garcia asked the group. 

Morgan sighed. “Do we have another choice?” 

The woods were dark and eerily quiet. The light that did shine through the canopy above created tapestries of shifting shadows across the forest floor that made every step hesitant and unsure. The earth was damp beneath the collection of leather boots sinking into the soft leaf litter and the skittering noises of small creatures and hooting of unseen birds didn’t add any more of a comforting atmosphere to their journey. 

Derek clutched the longsword and shield in his grip as he followed closely behind Emily, trying not to stare too much at the flicking tail that was protruding from the bottom of her corset, reaching her mid-calf. 

He felt a little silly as he flexed his grip on the leather straps behind the wooden shield. Reid was right though. When he had pulled it from his back and unsheathed the sword his body took over from his mind and he immediately fell into a defensive position. The blade felt comfortable in his hand, like it had always been there and the black leather-covered shield really just felt like an extension of his arm. It didn’t stop those creeping doubts of how stupid this whole situation was from falling back into place. 

As the party made their way through the frankly creepy forest, stepping over twisted roots and moss-covered rocks, it quickly became clear that they didn’t need an expert tracker to find their way. The cattle had clearly been dragged through the wood, leaving a trail of snapped branches and crushed bushes in their wake. JJ and Hotch still made a menacing sight as they led them through the ticket, the former with an arrow nocked in her bowstring pointed toward the ground, and the latter holding his greatsword with both hands, its shining blade reflecting beams of light onto the rough bark of the trees looming around them. 

Derek stumbled as the ground slipped beneath his feet. Righting himself, he squinted down to see what had caused his slip. Instead of stone or stretching root beneath his foot, it was a creamy white bone, stripped clean of any meat or tendon that once clung to it.  

“Hey, I think I’ve found the cows,” he called out in a hoarse whisper to the party. 

“There’s more over here,” Prentiss said, crouching by the side of the haphazard path. 

“How on earth can you see anything down there,” Hotch grumbled. “I can barely see two feet in front of me.” 

“Darkvision,” Reid explained. “JJ, Prentiss, and I can see up to sixty feet in dim light such as this as if it were completely sunny. Here, let me try something.”

Before anyone could ask, Spencer held their hand out and a mug-sized flame appeared, burning in the palm of their hand, casting light across the path. 

With a huff, Derek couldn’t help but stare in awe at the miracle in the genius’ hand. “Kid, that’s… wow.” 

The light of the flame meant that the blood that flushed their pale cheeks couldn’t be hidden in shame. Derek looked away guiltily. 

However, as he did, Derek noticed that the flame also illuminated something else. Silver strings extended between the tree branches, woven in intricate patterns, some no thicker than a pencil, and some as wide as the blade of his sword. 

“And I think we’ve found what’s taking them,” Derek said, his mouth running uncomfortably dry. 

Now, Derek Morgan was not afraid of spiders. But you would have to be crazy not to fall prey to a chill running down your spine imagining the size of a spider whose web was constructed by two-inch thick web. 

Feet continue marching forward. The path begins to widen. A clearing opens up. But instead of light pouring in from above, the branches of ancient trees clasp each other over their heads and among their gnarled and twisting roots, beady black eyes blink back at them. 

Not a breath could be heard as their eyes dark around the nest. How many were there? Why weren’t they attacking? 

By the light of Reid’s flame, Derek could see some of the spiders’ fuzzy black legs creep forward out from the roots. The smallest ones he could see were no larger than a Jack Russell Terrier while the largest, sitting in a tree hollow, easily six feet in diameter at the base of possibly the largest tree Morgan had ever seen, was easily as large as a sedan. 

“What do we do?” Garcia said with a trembling breath. 

“Most spiders don’t attack unless provoked,” Reid said, almost imperceptibly. 

“I thought you said Faerûn runs on different rules,” Prentiss muttered, hand curling around the handle of the ornate rapier on her belt. 

The spiders were getting uncomfortable close now, still moving at slow creeping paces, far two many eyes twinkling at them, reflecting the light of the flame. 

“We kill the spiders, clear the nest, get back on our way, agreed?” Hotch sighed. 

“I can’t hold the light, I need both hands to cast,” Reid said. “When I drop the flame, we go, okay?” 

A hum of approval slipped from Derek’s throat and he rolled his shoulders back, locking his eyes on the creature closest to himself, reestablishing his grip on his sword in anticipation. 

“On my count,” JJ said, lifting her bow, arrow pulling the string taught by her shoulder. “One, two… three!”

Darkness fell and Derek immediately stepped forward and brought his sword down in a clean arc in the direction he had fixed his eyes on. 

He felt the metal bite into a hard exoskeleton before cleaving through the flesh in a chink in the armour where a long skittering leg met its round body. 

A chorus of hissing deafened Morgan as his eyes readjusted to the dim light of the grove and he had little time to stare in shock at the blueish fluid painting the silver blade before the wounded arachnid launched itself back at him, leg left in the moss, as its nasty friends came to its aid. 

Derek’s heart pounded with every swing of his weapon, sundering the spiders limb from limb. He quickly found that he could use his shield to knock back the creatures, sending them sprawling back into the trees, his breath coming in ragged bursts. 

As he thrust his sword down to pierce through the skull of a spider thrown to the ground in front of him, Derek caught a glimpse of a ball of magenta flame fly past his head and knock a spider to the ground with a shriek, legs flailing as its body is burned followed by an arrow piercing a spider’s body as it leapt toward him and pinned it to a nearby tree trunk. 

The bastards, realising that six of them were probably a more difficult lunch than they had anticipated, began to charge thicker and stronger than ever and it only took a matter of seconds for Derek to recognise that the knee-high spiders he had been slashing at must have been the initial foot soldiers when he realised he was surrounded by beasts that almost reached his shoulder. 

Morgan took no time to frighten, no stranger to being cornered and outnumbered, and used the edge of his shield to smack upside the head of the spider approaching his left shoulder before thrusting his blade up into its vulnerable neck. It fell to the ground dead as he ripped the sword from its body and spun his wrist, flicking the foul blood from its blade before slicing at another approaching spider’s pincers at it reared to attack. 

In the corner of his eye, Reid appeared in a previously dark and empty corner of the clearing in a puff of mist. Derek had no time to process the reality that he had just watched his friend teleport before a swarm of spiders scurried in Spencer’s direction. Before the creatures could pounce on them, Reid raised the branch that had become a makeshift cane and slammed its end into the dirt. On its impact, a crackle of electricity stood the hairs on the back of Derek’s neck on end before a crack of thunder boomed in the nest, knocking back at least five spiders that were approaching the genius, sending them twitching to the ground. 

Stabbing pain shot through Derek’s side and his body arched as he cried out and fell to his knees. 

Immediately as his head pounded and his vision blurred, he knew he had been bitten in the moments he had spent watching Spencer distractedly. Cries of his name were fuzzy and distorted as he weakly lifted his shield to protect himself, sword discarded as he gripped his side where the pain was throbbing. It was wet and unsettlingly warm. 

He saw boots enter his line of vision as two people stood over him, one blasting away a spider with some kind of magical force and the other slicing and hacking at the tough body of the arachnid. 

Derek fought to keep his eyes open, he tried to reach for his sword but caught a blurry glimpse of his blood-stained glove his head spun in agony. 

That was the last thing he recalled before slumping face-first into the ground.

When his eyes opened, he was greeted by the worried faces of Garcia, Hotch, and Prentiss all staring down at him. 

He felt good, bruised but good. Vision no longer swimming and not an ounce of bile trying to escape his throat. 

“I absolutely hate the woods,” JJ sighed, yanking an arrow from a spider’s carcass in his eye line.

“Woah,” Prentiss said, mouth agape. “Hey, Derek, how’re you feeling?” 

“Never better,” he grunted in pain as he tried to sit up, Garcia who was kneeling beside him quickly helped him. “What happened? I got bit?” 

“Yeah, pretty bad,” Garcia explained, a little teary. “There was… a lot of blood. And the venom… I got rid of it though! Nothing a little Lesser Restoration can’t fix!” 

“Lesser what?” Derek groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“She healed you, like, with magic,” Prentiss said, clearly impressed. “Some kind of energy and it pulled the poison right out of you.” 

“Baby Girl,” Derek smiled at her. “You saved my life.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said proudly. “But if you’re good, we’ve got another issue to take care of.” 

Before Derek could ask, Penelope had stood to her feet and grabbed Hotch by the wrist, pulling him across the clearing. 

That’s when he finally heard the whimper of pain. 

Luckily Prentiss was still nearby to help steady him as Morgan pushed himself to his feet, immediately eying Reid lying in the leaf litter, their left arm bent in a grotesque manner at their side. 

“Okay, Hotch, I’m out of magic, but you can heal them,” Garcia said, pulling their boss down to kneel at their youngest's side. “All you have to do is lay your hands on their arm and… I don’t really know… feel it.” 

“Garcia, I don’t know how,” Hotch said, looking between her and Spencer who was writhing in agony, sweating dripping from their forehead. 

“You’re a Paladin who’s sworn an oath of devotion which fuels your magic,” she said calmly. “Think about what’s driving you. What got you out of bed this morning? What made you come here with us into this mess? Use it.” 

Derek felt his breath become trapped in his lungs as he watched Hotch pull his gloves off and rest his palms against the break in Reid’s arm. 

“Aargh!” They screamed in pain at the contact, making everyone nearby flinch. Hotch’s back rose and fell with deep breaths and the woods fell silent in anticipation.

From those calloused hands, a bright white light began to shine and with a sickening crack, Spencer’s arm straightened into line. 

“You… you…” Reid panted as Garcia helped them sit up. 

“Jack,” Hotch said, joining Penelope in helping Reid to their feet with a wince. “Going home to Jack is the only thing worth fighting for.” 

“Is Morgan okay?” Reid asked as if suddenly remembering the state of him the last time they weren’t close to passing out from their own pain. 

“I’m fine, kid,” Derek chuckled, watching their pale face relax in relief when their eyes fell onto him. “Didn’t get beat up half as bad as you.” 

It was good to see Reid crack a weak smile. Things had been so awkward since they spoke in the beige hallway of the hotel in St Louis two nights two days ago. Maybe things were finally clearing like he told them it would. He was missing his best friend. 

“Are we all good to head back now?” JJ asked, slinging her bow over her back. “I’m seriously over the woods.” 

Chapter Text

It turns out that riding a horse was far more uncomfortable than it looked. 

Derek’s leather gloves gripped the reins, heels pressed tightly into the horse’s flank to keep himself balanced as the melodic beating of hooves and the rough squeaking of the cart’s wheels accompanied the ambient sounds of what must be a beautiful summer's day. 

As painful as the experience was, Derek quickly noticed that he was faring better than some of the others in terms of their riding. Prentiss and Garcia’s expressions of terror and unfamiliarness seemed to be permanently etched on their faces despite riding the horses tied to the cart full of fruit, giving them almost no need to steer or keep their animals walking in a straight line. 

He, Hotch, and JJ seemed to immediately bond with their animals and found the saddle and stirrups relatively easy to navigate. As they rode, the unsettling sensation of Déjà vu lurked in the back of his mind, like a memory he couldn’t quite place, a dream slipping from reach the more you try to recall it. 

Weston had sent them on their way after returning from the depths of the spiders’ nest with maps and a promise that if they make good time, they should be able to reach a small settlement by the name of Duskmere by dark. 

Derek was caught between engaging in the conversation being had between the riders and staring out at the open landscape to their right with endless greenery, speckled with trees and farmland and the dizzyingly tall mountains to their left. With the only reminder of the giant spiders they fought several hours ago the aching bandaged wound in his side, everything he saw felt entirely normal. He imagined this whole place would be infested with fantasy nonsense but travelling down the wide dirt road on horseback felt more like he had fallen back in time to the days of frontier exploration and manifest destiny than into a magical land where the laws of science seemed to have been abandoned. Thinking this, Derek realised he’d take cuckoo land over nineteenth-century America any day. 

“I still can’t believe that you flung a ball of fire with your bare hands,” Prentiss said to Garcia, catching Morgan’s attention from deep inside his head. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you with that sword of yours,” Garcia countered. “You looked like you walked straight out of one of those Johnny Depp pirate movies.” 

“And JJ, I knew you were a sharpshooter but had no idea that translated over to the bow,” Prentiss nodded in her direction. 

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “It was so natural. I just stopped thinking and started doing and I knew what to do.” 

“Garcia was right then,” Hotch said from the front of the pack. “We have a natural knack for our abilities but we were quite nearly overwhelmed by those things. I have a sinking feeling that we are going to have to sharpen our skills if we come up against anything like that again.” 

“We’re only going to be here for two weeks max,” Derek reminded him, encouraging his horse to catch up to Hotch’s. “How much trouble could we get in between now and then?” 

“We only have so much money between us,” Garcia spoke up through gritted teeth as she struggled to stay sitting straight on her horse. “We may need to offer our services for favours like we did for Weston and his friend to keep roofs over our heads and food in our bellies.” 

“You think many people’s livestock are being terrorised by giant spiders?” Prentiss said with a sarcastic drawl. 

“I think that there are innumerable dangers in this world and that Hotch is right. Whether we go to them, or they come to us, we should better be prepared.” 

Everyone’s heads turned as Reid spoke up for the first time since the party had hit the road. They were sat on the front of the cart, legs hanging down off the edge and spellbook in their lap, a brown speckled quill in their hand. 

“We’ll focus on making good time but if we need to camp for the night in between towns, we can find some time to hone our skills if we need to,” Hotch said, always the voice of reason. 

“Ugh, I hate camping,” Garcia lamented. “Why would anyone voluntarily sleep in the dirt, and the cold, and the rain?” 

“Well, that’s why we’re going to try not to, Sweet-cheeks,” Derek assured her with a winning grin over his shoulder. 

He looked past her to Reid for a moment who seemed to be alternating between staring off into the distance and scribbling into the pages of their book. Any other day, he’d poke fun at them for being a nerd while there was such beautiful scenery to take in but he left them in peace instead. 

Duskmere was far better equipped than Phandalin was. Once their horses and cart were secured by the Inn stablehands, the party were relieved to find the establishment had baths and soap on offer. 

While the water was cold and there was nothing but his bare hands to lather the oat soap onto his skin. Derek enjoyed the feeling of stripping off the grime accumulated over their time in Faerûn and smearing a piece of cotton in a paste of charcoal and mint to scrub his teeth. 

Derek inspected his wound in the reflection of a sheet of polished metal hung on the wall. Two puncture wounds ripped through the muscle of his abdomen, imperfect circles from the teeth being ripped from his side. It wasn’t bleeding, in fact, it looked several weeks old already due to whatever Penelope’s magic hands did to him, the scars appearing more like deep maroon dimples rather than bloody flesh. 

A hurried knock at the door let him know that someone else was keen to use the bath and so Derek quickly gathered his clothes and hurried back to the room he had let, a single this time. 

Despite the slightly improved status of this inn compared to their last lodgings, the bed was still just as uncomfortable and the soft howl of the wind outside and strange animal noises were still just as foreign to him as they were yesterday. 

Sitting up, he pondered if he should be polishing his sword or something. That’s what they do in movies. 

He slowly pulled the blade from its sheath and took it in properly for the first time. Its handle was short, designed for one-handed combat in complement with a shield. Wrapped in a deep red cloth, the grip felt comfortable in his hand no matter if he was wearing his gloves or not. 

He laid the blade carefully across his lap and pondered it for a moment. The metal was roughly three and a half feet in length and gleaming a bright silver. Someone must have wiped all the spider gunk off it while he was still unconscious. It was beautiful. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew, but he had a gut feeling that it was quality craftsmanship that forged this weapon. 

The blade itself was plain, free of any decorative pattern. It was functional, to the point and perfectly balanced in his hand. It was made for him, he was sure of it. 

‘Jesus, man, get a grip,’ he scolded himself, throwing the sword back into the sheath before laying it down atop his shield on a nearby shelf. He was losing his mind here with this fantasy nonsense. This was all just a mistake and in two short weeks, he’d be back home with his dog, with normalcy. And one thing was for sure; he was never fucking playing Dungeons and Dragons again. 

He needed some air. He needed to get out of this tiny room and breathe. He pulled his boots back on, left the drawstrings of his tunic loose against his chest and crept through the creaking hallway down into the grounds of the inn. 

Night was a velvety black blanket across the sky, speckled with so many stars it didn’t seem real. Growing up in Chicago and spending the last decade in D.C, meant that he was only able to appreciate stars like this when work brought the team out to the middle of nowhere and somehow in between the chaos and death, he managed to peek up at the night sky and see those stars looking down at him. 

Derek’s neck protested from the angle he was holding it and returned his gaze to the dirt to find a place to sit. He strolled down the path toward the stables, the only sounds being the soft shuffling and braying of the animals inside and the distant rustling of strangers going about their evening from the townsfolk behind him. 

What he was not expecting, however, was rounding the corner of the stable and seeing a brown lump lying in the plush grass. On closer inspection, he realises the body was, A, breathing, and B, familiar enough to put him at ease. 

“Thought you were afraid of the dark, Pretty Boy,” he chuckled under his breath. 

The Spencer-shaped lump shot up to sit and Derek could just make out their horrified face in the dark. 

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me as long as you don’t tell mum we were up past our bedtimes,” he teased, kneeling down to lie in the grass beside them. 

He watched Spencer stiffly return to their position next to him before turning his eyes back to the heavens. 

“It’s not so scary anymore now that I can see in the dark,” they said in the wake of a steadying exhale. 

“Is it this beautiful back home?” Derek asked, in awe of the swirling constellations. Rivers of stardust intermingle with the brighter stars that twinkle down at him in burning defiance of the light years that separate them. Even on the outskirts of D.C, you could only make out the brightest few stars and only then on the clearest of nights. Here it was as if he could see the nebulas and galaxies so far away. . 

“They’re not our stars,” Spencer quietly observes. “No North Star, no Ursa Major, we’re looking at a completely different universe out there.” 

“Never saw many stars growing up,” said Derek, unable to tear his eyes away from the cosmos above. “What about you?” 

“When you think of Las Vegas, stars aren’t quite the lights you immediately associate with the city,” they pointed out. 

“Okay, fair enough,” Derek nodded. “What brings you out here then? Just stargazing?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” they huffed. 

Derek turned his head to find Spencer already looking at him. At this distance, he didn’t need whatever night vision powers they had to make out their anxious expression. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged. “Needed some air. And you?” 

Spencer returned his gaze to the sky before Derek did. “Something like that.” 

“Hey, I just want to say I’m sorry about the way I was acting yesterday,” Derek blurted before he could stop himself. “I was being a dick.”

“Yeah, you were,” they replied flatly, not about to give him an easier time. 

“I know things have been weird since the othe-”

“Can we not talk about the other night, please?” Spencer cut him off. 

“I think we should, kid,” Derek sighed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “You said we were cool, we’re clearly not.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s a lot easier said than done after what I did, isn’t it?” They said dismissively. 

“Okay, fair point,” Derek sighed but he wasn’t about to give up. “What you did was pretty ballsy, I’ll give you that. I don’t think I would have been brave enough to pull that if I was in your place.” 

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but telling me that I’m ‘brave’ because I trapped my coworker in the hallway and told him I have feelings for him, making a complete fool out of myself, is really not working.”

Derek breathed for a beat, not quite knowing how to respond to that. “Well,” he decided would be as good of a start as he would get. “You didn’t trap me anywhere. Not with those toothpick arms.” 

The humourless laugh from his right let him know he was most likely making this worse. 

“What I want to say is that I don’t think of you any differently, kid, I don’t want to lose what we had just because I don’t… I can’t…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re straight. You made that very clear,” they said bitterly. 

“I knew whatever I said would hurt you, I get that, but I did try. Spencer, you’re a know-it-all and a pain in the arse sometimes, but I care about you, a lot. You’re one of my closest friends. I’m sorry I don’t feel the same.” 

“Please, shut up,” they groaned, rubbing their face with their hands. “You’ve done the whole letting me down easy part, thank you. I just want to stop reliving it.” 

“We’ll forget about it, easy,” Derek agreed. “In fact, it's already forgotten. What were we talking about?” 

Spencer’s soft laugh was a little more genuine this time. “Something about the stars.” 

“Mmm,” Derek hummed. “Tell me about the stars, genius.”