10 Seconds Until Self-Destruct

Summary- Spencer Reid is a genius detective with more than a few dark secrets. Derek Morgan is an FBI profiler with a tragic past. Both are broken, but when a case brings them together, can they fix each other? AU in which Reid never joined the BAU, M/R SLASH, Reid/Team friendships

Warnings- language, mentions of drug use, violence and torture…

Rating-T (for now)

Disclaimer- I don't own anything *sobs*

Chapter 4

Sparks

A couple of minutes later, Hotch and Derek arrived at the station. It had started to rain while they were driving, and blasts of cold air and droplets of freezing water hit them as they stepped out of the vehicle, sending shivers down their spines.

"So," Derek said as he and Hotch unloaded the SUV of anything they might need for the case. "You said that we'd be working with two detectives here?"

Hotch nodded, "They're apparently some of the best in the business." He nodded to Derek once more, and they both closed to trunk to the SUV before starting to head over to the station. The building was quite impressive, lean and tall and made of large, rectangular slabs of beige concrete and dark red and brown bricks. Small trees and shrubs framed the structure and the path that lead to the large glass doors that stood at the front, a large black sign above showing the name of their destination.

"Then why haven't we worked with them before?" Derek asked, eyes flickering from the station to Hotch, then back again.

Hotch shrugged, "We haven't had any cases in Las Vegas for a while," Though Derek knew it was true, he still snorted at the thought that Sin City of all places was even slightly more 'crime-free', "And even when we did, we always worked with other detectives," Hotch shrugged again, "I'm not sure why."

Derek pushed open the door to the station, and was met with the familiar sight and sounds of cops buzzing around and shouting from somewhere in the station, along with many messy desks and peopling talking on phones.

He and Hotch stared around for a moment, taking in their surroundings, when almost out of nowhere a man popped out. His gorgeous blond hair was messy and curly, and his deep blue eyes shone with lingering mischief, if the just barely-controlled smirk that was playing on his full, firm lips was any indication of something otherwise. He was wearing a black jacket and a burgundy shirt and black tie, with dark pants and a belt that displayed both his badge and his gun.

"Hello," He greeted cheerfully, his voice smooth and silky but perky nonetheless. "Detective Damien Jackson, LVPD*. "

He stuck out his hand and shook both Derek and Hotch's hands, some of which were carrying case files and other supplies. The detective seemed to notice this, and smiled, his teeth so white they were almost blinding, before gesturing for the two agents to follow him. "Over here, I have a place where you can set up."

As they did so, Hotch glanced over at Derek, amused by Derek's slightly shocked expression. For one of 'the best in the business', this detective was sure quite… sunny. He kind of reminded Derek of Garcia, because even though he just met the guy, his presence seemed to lighten whoever he was talking to or with. Derek decided that he liked him, because if there was one thing that he could use, it was a little lightening.

"My partner is just momentarily occupied, but he'll be with us shortly," Damien spoke, turning to look at the agents, and did Derek just see an evil smirk spread across his face, or was it just his imagination? Before he could even think to reply, Damien stopped them in front of a clean, wooden door and opened it easily, once again gesturing for the agents to follow him inside.

Derek couldn't help but be surprised at how big the room was when he stepped in, eyes traveling to the pale blue walls and grey carpeting before finally resting on the long wooden table that lay in the centre of it all, framed by several chairs. Two large bulletin boards stood at its end, one with nothing on it, the other covered in crime scene photos and other pictures and one or two evidence bags. It was creepily organized.

Hotch immediately strode forward and rested the box he was holding on the table, Derek following suit.

"There should be enough space in here, but if you need anything else, just ask." Damien said, shrugging lightly and leaning against the doorway.

"This is fine, thank you." Hotch replied, all professionalism, while Derek turned to look once more at the bulletin that was already covered.

"Impressive," he couldn't help but say, stretching his arms out slightly to the side and covering a yawn, because apparently that's what barely-any-sleep does to you.

Derek could practically hear the grin in Damien's voice as he replied, "You can thank my partner for that, Detective Dr. Reid."

Derek looked back to Damien again, confused, "Detective Dr...?"

Damien shrugged again. "He prefers Detective, but I think that adding the `Doctor' part is necessary so that people aren't blown anyway by his mind-blowing intellect."

Damien sounded very casual when he spoke, but he still sounded almost proud near the end. Derek still felt kind of confused, and looking over at Hotch, who appeared kind of speechless, he decided to not comment, even though he was secretly sort of interested. Mind-blowing intellect? I've got to see this.

"Would you mind telling me where a coffee machine is?" He asked instead, sort of sheepishly, but because he seriously needed something to wake him up.

Damien smirked and nodded. "Just go down the main hallway, and take a left. There's a table in the corner. Watch out though, there tends to be a crowed." He winked and Derek couldn't help but smile at him before leaving the room. Yep, definitely like Garcia.

He followed the detective's instructions, and braced himself for a 'crowed', but was relieved to see that there was only one person standing at the table.

Derek strode over, and could hear the man muttering under his breath. Something like, "I need a new partner," and "Stupid imbecile."

Derek couldn't help but feel intrigued and somewhat amused by this, and as he walked over beside the table, couldn't help but quip, "Rough day?"

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, completely caught off guard and startled by his sudden appearance.

"God you scared me!" he gasped, his hand going to his chest. Finally, the man turned to face Derek, who felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight.

The man standing in front of him looked more like a model than anything (although Derek would never admit that to anyone but himself). His beautiful, messy and sandy brown hair fell in waves and curled around his angled, smooth face. His skin was a creamy shade of gold, practically flawless and his eyes were round; a mesmerizing, expressive brown. He was wearing a sky blue cotton shirt with a few buttons undone at the top, and a navy blue sweater vest that hugged his lithe frame perfectly: so did the dark gray pants he was wearing. He was wearing a shining gold, expensive-looking watch and there was a gun hanging loosely from his hip. A thick black jacket was sprawled over the table beside him, and his hand was resting on top of it as he leaned lightly on the table.

Derek eventually realized that he was staring, and looked away quickly, blushing slightly. Wait, why was he blushing?

He could feel then man watching him before he suddenly spoke, sounding very apologetic and flustered, "Oh, I am so sorry. You just-ummmm-caught me off guard and I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right," Derek looked back up at the man, whose face was flushed, his expression mirroring his tone of voice, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just heard you-uhhhh-talking, and you sounded kind of pissed off, and I thought hey why not ask what's up and-"

Derek paused midsentence because since when did he start rambling? He felt his face heat up once more, and was completely confused. Why was he suddenly so nervous? Ignoring the weirdness that was occurring, he turned to the coffee machine and grabbed a nearby styrofoam cup.

"So," He started to speak, this time his voice smoother and slick and light: how it normally was, "I'm going to ask once more and try not to give you a heart attack. Rough day?"

He turned to look over at the mystery man beside him, wondering in the back of his mind why he was striking up a conversation with a random stranger. Of course, Derek Morgan was a definite people person, and pleaser, for that matter, but for some reason he felt strangely compelled to talk to the man anyways. Also, he was definitely involved in law enforcement, so he wasn't technically a random stranger, right?

…Right.

Said man suddenly cracked a smile and seemed to loosen up a bit, and the sight made Derek smile too, for some other reason.

"Ohh, my partner decided that it would be hilarious to threaten our coffee maker-we keep a coffee maker here at the station-", he added in at Derek's confused expression, "by actually holding a full cup of coffee over the thing. What he didn't actually count on was accidentally pouring it on the machine." The man sighed, and Derek couldn't help but smile again at his long-suffering expression. "So now I've been forced to use this pathetic excuse for a coffee maker and drink this awful liquid that people actually have the nerve to call coffee." He shuddered, before looking over and seeing Derek making a pot of it.

"No offense," he added, pink staining his cheeks, and he brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, staring up shyly at Derek.

Derek simply laughed, marveling at how at ease he felt around this man: he hadn't felt this at ease around anyone in quite a while. He just had this… aura of innocence and a sort of unassuming nature about him. Even when he was insulting the coffee and the coffee maker (all insults that Derek agreed with, by the way. He'd had enough police station coffee to know the truth) he still seemed timid, reserved almost. And when he got flustered, it was easy to see that it was very genuine. Geez, Derek, he thought to himself, you talk to a guy for a minute and suddenly you're profiling him? Good job.

Ah well, force of habit. Oh, and Derek may or may not have been kind of intrigued by the guy, which pushed him to keep profiling and talking. So sue him.

"None taken." Derek paused before he couldn't help but add, "So is that why you were calling your partner a stupid imbecile?"

The other man froze slightly, his face flushing once more. "Oh, you heard that." He stated plainly, looking embarrassed, causing Derek to laugh again.

Because Derek couldn't help but think it was adorable.

Wait, adorable?

Derek stopped laughing when he realized what he was thinking, confused again, before covering it up with a cough and saying, "Don't worry, I've called my coworkers worse." He winked at the still embarrassed man, turning his attention to the coffee machine once more and wondering what the hell he was doing. Or thinking, for that matter.

"Then what did they to deserve the insults, then? Mine at least was justified, I believe."

Derek was caught off guard by the barely noticeable smirk on the other man's face and the slightly lighter quality to his voice, but after getting over it, Derek teased right back.

"Has your partner ever planned a picnic that ended in a full blown water balloon fight in a very public park, getting you completely soaking wet in front of dozens of people?"

"Have your coworkers ever drenched you with Gatorade in the middle of work?" he challenged right back.

Oh, two could play at this game.

"Has your partner ever came to work while holding seven cats, dressed up in an outfit consisting of only clothes that have frogs on them, and proceeded to dump them on you for the remainder of the day so that you can 'protect them from the harshness that is kitty lifestyle'?"

The other man looked unfazed.

"Have your coworkers ever strode into work on their 10th year of working there wearing a party hat while riding a llama?"

Okay, Derek had to blink at that. "…what?"

Mystery Man started laughing, and the sound made Derek's heart involuntarily flutter (which he would forever deny and promptly ignored).

"Okay, so maybe I exaggerated that one a bit, but in my defense that was a giant stuffed llama he was carrying. It was, like, 5.4 feet tall and 1.1 metre long, and since an average llama can range from 5.5 feet to 6 feet in height and on average are around a metre long, I would say that the stuffed animal was pretty accurate in-" *

He stopped talking (well, more like rambling) abruptly, as if just realizing what he was saying. He started to blush again (he seemed to be doing that a lot. But it's not like Derek was really complaining. It was kind of cu- Wait, nope, he was not going to finish even thinking that sentence. WHAT THE HELL.) and Derek finally put the puzzle pieces together.

Law enforcement, but higher up so that he didn't have to wear a uniform. A detective, perhaps?

A seemingly strange, weird, out-there and wacky partner (Detective Damien Jackson never did seem very normal to Derek, did he? And that would explain the evil looks and smirks…)

'Mind-blowing intellect'. Could anyone without it know all of that stuff about llamas, or ramble so fast and passionately about something?

Derek couldn't help but blurt out the next words that flew out of his mouth.

"Detective Dr. Reid!"

The man blinked, snapping out of his mortified and still-frightfully embarrassed state to look over at Derek, who barely resisted the urge to smack his head off of the table for saying that, confused and more than slightly stunned. "…Excuse me?" Then he realized it, and turned mortified once more, "Oh my god you've met Damien."

Derek was still kind of speechless (his coffee had been long since forgotten at this point, and apparently, so had the other man's cup of it) and managed to get out a, "Ummm, yes, I've met him. I'm uhhh, Special Agent Derek Morgan, from the FBI's Bahavioural Analysis Unit." He felt the need to say the full title, and went so far as to actually pull out his badge and flash it to the shell-shocked detective before adding, "My unit and I will be working with you and, ummm, Detective Jackson for the duration of the serial killer case."

"Oh... You're FBI." Spencer spoke those words slowly, as if simply tasting them on his lips. He was staring at Derek, eyes wide with disbelief and shock. Then his gaze turned to one of horror.

"…You're FBI and you've just heard me ramble on and insult my partner and all of the things he's done and you probably think that we're both so unprofessional now and dear god I just told you how tall an average llama is and-"

"Hey, hey don't worry about it." Derek interrupted, voice consoling (though he was secretly trying not to burst out laughing because the entire situation as pretty damn interesting) as he tried to stop the man from talking so much because it sort of looked like he couldn't breathe. Derek put a hand on the detective's shoulder to slow him down, wondering why the contact sent something akin to shivers down his spine, and silence fell between the two men. They both simply stood there, in front of the long forgotten coffee machine, staring at each other until their eyes hurt.

Eventually, Derek took his hand off of the detective's shoulder, doing his best to not acknowledge the pang of disappointment he felt when he did so, and instead grinned, letting his amusement at it all take over.

"So llamas and crazy co-workers aside, I feel like we need to reintroduce ourselves." Derek's smile grew and he stretched out a hand towards the detective, whose lips started to quirk up too. "My name is Agent Derek Morgan."

The light-skinned man reached out and grasped Derek's hand tentatively, almost doubtfully, before finally letting a full, beautiful smile cross his face and grasping it more firmly. "Detective Spencer Reid." He emphasized the detective part, causing them both to inwardly grin some more.

"You know, detective, we should probably start heading back before my boss and your partner decide to freak out and send out a search warrant." That lightness, that ease that Spencer made him feel was back, shining through in his voice, and it only grew when the other man nodded, eyes sparkling with amusement and light.

"Well, Agent Morgan, I suggest that we do so, but first," He all of a sudden reached out for the table and swiftly snatched up his coat, his badge, which was revealed to be laying on top, and his coffee mug before saying in a still fairly shy but much more brave tone than before, "Do me a favour and while you`re getting a cup, try not to break this coffee machine too."

And with that, Spencer strode out of the room, leaving a shocked but amused Derek Morgan standing there, jaw hanging open slightly. It was then that he realized something.

For almost an entire few minutes, while he was talking and thinking about the detective… the ghosts had gone away.

*The part about llamas being 5.5 to 6 feet tall is true. But the 1.1 metre long thing… I have no idea if that's true: it's just a very rough, probably very inaccurate guess. But we'll just say that it's true and go with that (where's actual Reid when you need him… ;)

Okay so, I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Also, if Reid seems kind of OOC during his conversation with Derek, the next chapter will probably begin with the conversation from his POV, so that'll probably be explained. But, as I've said before, Reid is different in this fic, since he is a detective, has to be at least a bit more social and confident yah da yah da yah da, but still has his geek, adorkable, flustered moments as you saw, so please bear with me on this.

So as always, read and review and thank you sssoooo much for doing so. I promise that I will update as soon as I can and will not disappear like that again. The next chapter will involve Reid and Damien meeting the rest of the team… and some more Morgan and Reid goodness. So until then, thank you and love you guys! :D

~GOMIA