Work Text:
Membership: Revoked
by Buffy
The team had done its usual split after the first round: Hotch and JJ headed home to their sons; Emily and Derek moved to tear up the dance floor; and Dave, Spencer, and Penelope stayed at the table watching people in general, and their teammates in particular.
"You are practically the dictionary definition of alpha male, why are you fine with watching your man out on the dance floor with hootchie mamas rubbing up on him?" Garcia gestured broadly, nearly knocking over her worryingly-purple-colored umbrella drink, "I mean, trust him, sure. But all those floozies are unworthy to touch his sculpted chest . . ."
Dave chuckled and shot her a wicked grin, "Because men are base, visually-driven creatures, Kitten."
She glared at him, "Reid is supposed to be the one needing translation, Superagent, not you. Just what does that mean?"
Reid chimed in absently, "Studies have shown that any images of a sexual nature can arouse men, regardless of exact personal preferences. I think he was playfully hinting that watching Derek with those 'floozies' is a form of foreplay between them."
Dave grinned, "Yeah, that." He ignored Penelope's huff of exasperation. He held out a bottle of water the waitress had just dropped off as Derek dropped into the seat next to him. "Worn out already?"
Derek chugged half the bottle, "Nah, just needed a minute. The floor's packed tonight, thought I'd give the ladies a break."
Apparently, not all of Derek's dance partners agreed with his action. A willowy young woman broke from the group of ladies Derek had been dancing with to follow him to the table. Her halter top and skirt were more class than trash, but still left acres of mahogany skin visible, and even subtracting the height of the platform her heels were sky-high. She sashayed up to the table and between Derek and Reid, casually ignoring the younger man as she leaned against Derek's shoulder. She leaned in just a little to grab a napkin from the center of the table, then magically pulled an eyeliner pencil from somewhere in her top. Every move was graceful and calculated to show Derek her best assets. She wrote a phone number on the napkin, pressed the napkin into his hand, shot him a sultry look and sauntered towards the door as she purred, "Here's my number, so call me maybe."
None of them moved or spoke for several minutes. The brazen way she'd approached Derek, and the way she'd blatantly ignored that he was sitting with friends, was unusual enough to shock even Dave speechless. Derek blinked rapidly, first at the napkin in his hand, then at the door the woman had just strolled out of.
"What the hell? I'm not even sure I danced with her, and she's giving me her number?" Derek looked at Dave, "I swear, man, I never asked for this."
"Oh, Lover, you didn't have to. That was a genuine maneater. You were prey, and she was the lioness on the savannah. I know the type well, they're fun for a weekend." Dave grinned as he draped his arm around the younger man.
Reid smirked, "I'd have thought you'd be familiar with the type, Derek. After all, you used to be such a ladies man."
Derek grinned and ruffled the genius' hair, "I don't play those reindeer games anymore, Boy Wonder. I'm perfectly satisfied at home with my man." He flinched as Garcia darted her hand out to snatch the napkin with the number from his hand. She rolled the napkin up and held it over her now mostly empty glass. With her other hand she flicked a lighter.
"Oh this is too good! Honey, I'm sorry, but I've got to do this." She giggled as she lit the napkin, letting it burn until it was halfway up the length of the napkin, then dropped it into her glass. "Derek Morgan, I hereby burn your player's club card, and revoke your membership." She jumped and squeaked when it lit the residue from her drink, flashing up a bright blue flame. "You're now a part of a committed, monogamous relationship."
While Dave and Penelope were trying to charm the manager into not throwing her out for her little display, Derek leaned over to mutter to Reid, "Is it wrong that the only reaction I've got to her little proclamation is to wonder why, when BabyGirl doesn't smoke, she carries a lighter?"
Reid shook his head, "With Garcia, I've learned it's better not to ask."
end