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masterwords · 3 years

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Hotter than That (sneak preview)

Who wants a (very) rough preview of Hotter than That (the Undercover Hotch/Morgan story)? There is no Hotch in this preview, you'll have to read the first chapter to see where he fits in to all of this. Instead we have all Derek & Spencer, plus you get to meet possibly the best OC I've ever created. That's saying a lot because I really liked the inmates I came up with for the prison AU. Leroy takes all the cake.

This is, currently, planned to be 3 or 4 chapters but if you've been around long, you know I tend to get a little crazy so take my estimation with a grain of salt. The first chapter should be posted by Thursday if I can get my poop in a group, and it'll likely go fast after that, this isn't going to be a slow burn.

Summary: (rough) The DEA have taken over operations at a riverboat casino on Lake Pontchartrain, keeping a close eye on a rival casino suspected of money laundering and drug trafficking. They've been running the casino for months undetected, getting closer to the information they need to shut the whole thing down, or so they thought. When employees and patrons of the DEA's casino start going missing and body parts turn up in nearby swamps, they call in the BAU for some undercover help.

I know that sounds cheesy but I'm REALLY truly bad at summaries so just...I'll work on it. Look under the cut, if you so desire! (1.2k words)

“Check-in time, kid. My office. Ten minutes.”

The way Derek said it, breezing past the bar like he owned the place, smacking the glossy hardwood with the palm of his hand loud enough to send a shudder down Spencer's spine was disconcerting. Jazz oozed out of the loud speakers from somewhere in the belly of that boat, some dimly lit stage in a smoky room made to speak to an era gone by. The younger crowd stuck to Spencer's bar, his quick hands and his magic tricks, he had a flair for it but the older folk huddled below deck with their cigars and their whiskey and their chaotic dixieland jazz. Spencer wished they wouldn't pump the music through the speakers, wished they'd keep it down below, it set his nerves on edge when four musicians decided to go on solo tangents all at once, different melodies, different tones, too much for him. That was when he whipped out his deck of cards and asked who wanted to see a trick, pulled a quarter out from behind an ear, handed out the deck of trivia cards and set his phasers to stun. It was all he could do to muddle through the musical bombardment, all he could do just to make it back to the more palatable playlists between live sets. Louis Armstrong, Fats Domino, Allen Toussaint, he could bop around behind the bar to that but the live stuff made him long for ear plugs.

“Leroy?” he asked, sliding up beside his cohort at the bar for the evening. The older man turned to Spencer with a wild grin, having just returned from a trip around the casino floor to collect high ball glasses the waitresses missed. Glasses that would be found in tiny cubbies, set aside by now penniless drunk tourists with a sip or two left for the taking. Leroy loved it, the way it made him feel to swirl the glass and spill someone's drink down his throat, savored the flavor of tears and loss. He could sip despair. He was Spencer's favorite, too old to be tending bar at a riverboat casino but as a retired street musician, he didn't want to make too drastic a move – the weird nightlife was where he loved to be. If he wasn't there beside Spencer, he was trolling the French Quarter and creating a little mischief for the tourists who had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. A modern day Puck. Nothing that would be considered cruel, but a good laugh, a real good laugh always came with a certain amount of misery he pointed out.

“Does that come with a good 401k plan? Being a street musician?” Spencer had asked upon first meeting Leroy. The other man cocked an eyebrow and studied Spencer, really looked hard at him before letting a cockeyed grin overtake his craggy, serious features.

“The best,” he replied, winking. “I'm a king. Isn't that what everyone wants? To be a king?”

“You were a king before that,” Spencer added, a nod to the meaning of Leroy's name. “I guess you could do anything you wanted, really, that being the case.”

“What can I do ya for, buddy?” Leroy asked, unloading an armful of glasses into the wash bin. Someone would come and collect them, note that they'd been licked clean, cherry stems neatly tied in knots and know exactly who had done the collecting. Gifts, Leroy would say, for his adoring fans. The kitchen would talk about him in hushed whispers, he would give them his mad grin, and Spencer knew it was all just a ruse. He loved to have everyone talking about him.

“Security check-in,” Spencer replied. “Would you mind holding down the fort for a few minutes?”

"'Course, boss," Leroy winked. "Gotta make sure you ain't been skimmin' off the top. House always wins."

Derek's office was cold, the air conditioning turned on and blasting day and night. Still, the minute he entered the casino floor the sweat pooled at the base of his hips, trickled slowly down his spine and stuck his shirt to him. He wore only black to combat it, to make sure no one could see. But in his office, with its dark walls and filmy white light, it was cool. He reclined in his chair, fingers pressed together at the tips, and watched Spencer enter, slipping his name badge back into his pocket when the door shut tight. The lock, automatic, clicked behind him and it gave him the shivery impression of walking into a prison. There were televisions lining one wall, tiny screens in full color, a stark contrast with the dark surroundings, and Derek watched them like a hawk.

“Has it been a week already?” Spencer asked, taking a seat opposite Derek. A few switches were flipped, a few buttons depressed, Derek's nimble fingers flying across the keyboard of his computer before he spoke. Under constant surveillance by the casino and the DEA, even in his own office, this particular conversation was one of very few allowed to be kept off the record. Their record, anyway.

“How's it going out there? Any mention of The Shadow Man?” The name dripped off of his tongue full of contempt. There were few things in life that drove him up the wall faster than people giving fantastical names to something that didn't deserve it. Frightening names for serial killers topped his list. It made his skin crawl to think that this man, and that's all he was...a man...could be held in such high regard. The Shadow Man, like he lurked in the alleys from another plane of existence, like he was made of pure evil and nothing more than mist, even the tourists were talking, avoiding the casino like the plague. On a Friday night the place should have been bustling but the floor was barren, only a few regulars, people who didn't altogether mind the idea of their troubles being ended one way or another hung on. When four people went missing and only a body part or two showed up, it was only a matter of time before people started talking and that sort of talking was rarely good. Gators, maybe, but it wasn't often gators chose to do all of their hunting within the walls of one particular busy riverboat casino. Someone who knew how easily a body could be disposed of with the right set of teeth, however, they could hunt anywhere they wanted. “Things have been too quiet, man. You think he knows we're here? Anything, kid...give me something.”

“Denise hasn't shown up for her shift in the buffet yet, she's almost an hour late...47 minutes actually...” Spencer replied coolly, folding one long leg over the other. “She's never late. There are whispers. Leroy is telling ghost stories, spooking the staff.”

“What do you think, pretty boy?” Derek asked, sliding further away from his head of security persona and back into Derek Morgan, his charming grin lighting up the dark room. The discussion may have been grim but he was always elated to have a few minutes alone with Spencer, a few minutes to remember who he was. “You think it's him?”

#derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchgan #mortch #undercover agents #criminal minds #fanfiction #preview

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