Fic: A Lion in Paris
The lion roared; ending a spar with one of his favorite partners Derek’s heart was rushing faster than he could move. He took a huge breaths drawing back in life that a moment ago was lost in the passion of the fight. He quietly clapped the man on his back and moved to pack up his training session for the day. Slipping below the ropes and next to his pack Derek saw just the man he was- about to be- looking for: Agent Aaron Hotchner.
Hotch- as Derek had named him after many tries on his French teammates part to pronounce his name- was not an agent in the sense that Derek was, but in the more literal sense that he was one of Paris’ most successful, yet not well known, Managers. Unlike most agents however Hotch didn’t just manage boxers, or even athletes. He would help anyone he saw with talent get where they wanted to go, and made a lot of money doing it. Derek knew of only one other client of Hotch’s a singer that he’d been introduced to: Penelope Garcia, a Catalonian born just south of the France-Spain border, she would often claim ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ as her inspiration for moving to Paris, saying that she was a Catalonian who discovered she was pregnant by a man who was now in prison, where else would she go?
Coming closer Hotch frowned deeply, walking faster coming to a stop right in front of Derek. Taking Derek’s pack from up off the floor, he casually lead Derek to the entrance of the club, looking from any outsiders perspective as if Derek was the one doing the leading and calling the shots.
“Why were you fighting Will? He’s not nearly challenging enough for what we’ve got going on tonight!” Hotch raved quietly as they exited the club and walked down the street.
“Relax. I fought Christian and Michael before you showed up, plenty challenging. Will was more of a favor for him than practice for me.” Derek soothed grabbing back his bag and slinging it across his broad chest.
“You’re going to be fighting Foyet tonight Derek, it’s not exactly the time to be handing out favors. Do I have to remind you what happened last time Foyet fought someone? The only reason I’m even letting you do this is because you said you’d be prepared, you said you’d knock the guy out first try and not even let him get near you.” Hotch reminded him walking a bit slower now and lowering his voice to an actual speaking tone.
“I know I did, and I am. I’m so prepared I can’t stand it. Don’t worry, I won’t let him even get a punch in okay?” Derek asked stepping in front of Hotch to stop him, not receiving an answer he tried again. “Okay, mom?”
“I told you not to call me that.” Was the only reply Derek received.
“I can’t help it you worry to much, reminds me of my mom.” Derek said affectionately slinging his arm around the agent’s shoulders. “Now I think it’s about time you take me to lunch.”
“On me of course,” Hotch smiled a rare smile, reserved usually for when Derek was being cocky.
“Of course.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Hotch began before hearing Derek groan loudly, “What?”
“Last time you wanted to ‘talk to me about lunch’ was when I met Pen, and I really don’t need you setting me up anymore. We talked about that.” Derek reminded the older man.
“Yes, we did that’s why were going to meet Doctor Spencer Leopold Reid, not a woman. Who shall I remind you, you are very close friends with now?” Hotch scolded walking them across the street and to the door of a café.
“Really? And, why may I ask are we meeting him?” Derek asked intrigued.
“You’ll find out I’m sure.” Hotch answered mysteriously walking into the café and getting them a table outside.
Derek laughed openly drawing a few looks his way, shaking his head at the antics of his manager he followed him and sat down at a wrought-iron table.
“So really who is this guy?” Derek asked after ordering a water until their mysterious guest arrived to complete their party.
“He’s a pianist that I manage,” Hotch answered looking over a menu.
“I thought you said he was a doctor, and why are we meeting a pianist?” Derek asked perplexed.
“He is a doctor, and a genius. He was actually one of my first clients, eleven years ago. He was eight and saw him in the park. He was moving his hands across this stone bench just like he was playing a piano, so I went over and asked him if he knew how to play or was just pretending, I was a hawk for talent even then. His fingers were bleeding, Derek, he didn’t even notice he was so entranced.” Hotch said with an amazed look on his face “I took him to my house and had Sophie fix him up. We figured out that he lived with his mentor Jason Gideon- a yank like you. I convinced him to let me get some gigs for Spencer and we’ve been working together ever since. He has a perfect memory, anything you put in front of the kid he can remember. So we sent him to college, and he got his degree in music, then another in literature, then another and another. We just can’t keep the kid away from his books.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. Why’s he meeting me?” Derek questioned astonished at the life’s story of Spencer Reid.
“That I really will make you wait for until he gets here.” Hotch replied pulling up his menu once again.
After a few minutes of trying to decide whether he wanted the chicken or a stew that had what he would guess to be mushrooms in it, a shadow fell upon their table marking the presence of on Doctor Spencer Reid.
That shadow was one that light up Derek’s day. He looked like Monceau at night; all the cities lights shining through the trees onto Derek’s face and the calm of abandoned stone gazebos. He looked like Derek’s first summer in France; so strange, new, and everything he’d dreamed of all those years in America. He was dressed very stylishly in a dark navy three piece suit; however the jacket of his three piece was a soft crème blazer and he wore a bowler hat slung far back on his head showcasing his long Oscar Wilde-esque brunette hair. He looked so carefree and unique that Derek could not help but stare if just for a moment. Spencer looked shyly about the table at both men sitting; and it endeared him to Derek all the more.
“Hello Spencer,” Hotch said standing and grasping the young man in a familiar hug. “Decided to forgo the tie today?”
“Have to change it up every once in a while,” Spencer smiled back easily sitting in between the two men on the far side of the table.
“Spencer, I’d like you to meet Derek Morgan a very talented boxer; Derek, this is Doctor Spencer Reid I was telling you about,” Hotch introduced the pair with an eye towards both, judging reactions and motions.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan,” Spencer said extending his hand across the table to shake with Derek.
“Derek, please. It’s nice to meet you as well, Hotch was just telling me a little about you.” Derek said shaking the warm, soft hand firmly.
“Then I insist you call me Spencer, and I assure you whatever he said while almost undoubtedly true was most likely very out of character and a most misleading statement.” Spencer replied smiling widely and looking out of the corner of his eye at Hotch.
“Oh really? Has our little Hotch been misleading us?” Derek teased taking Spencer’s cue and looking across the table to the older man.
“I do not mislead, I direct conversations in the way I would like them to head.” Hotch stated, staring pointedly down at his menu.
“Of course,” Spencer said taking off his hat and throwing it on the table next to him. “So what, may I ask, did you call me here for?”
“Well, Derek has a very important fight tonight that I thought you might enjoy helping with.” Hotch began as he met eyes with Derek laughing inwardly at the question in the boxer’s eyes. “You see, the man that Derek is fighting tonight is the most dangerous boxer in France, and we could use every advantage. I know you’ve been studying psychology lately and I was thinking that perhaps seeing into Foyet’s mindset would be useful.”
Hearing the new project set out for him Spencer’s eyes began to shine in excitement and his mouth began to twitch as if explanations were already beginning to pour out of his brain. Derek couldn’t help but be amused at the clear joy in the young pianists eyes at sharing his seemingly infinite knowledge.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. Even psychologists don’t realize the full applications for the field, and projects like this are the perfect testing ground for just about every theory that we have. I’m more than happy to help, tell me what we know about Foyet. Anything you know is helpful; where he grew up, what he likes, even his favorite foods can tell us a lot about him.” Spencer said leaning forward as worked his way from calm, charming pianist to excitable, intense intellectual.
“Well, no one knows much. He’s from Lyon, that’s where he started boxing. He’s worked his way up from the underground; he used to fight in the streets for cash. I’ve been told that he was so ruthless that no one would fight him anymore and he had to start going to a boxing gym to work off his reputation. However he was recruited and brought to Paris. He’s killed three people in the ring and has been put on probation more times than even you could count Spencer. Not only that, he has a reputation for being the biggest… jerk shall we say in the entire industry.” Hotch started looking to Derek to see if there was anything else to include.
“All the guys hate him; most of them can respect another athlete but this is something else. He works out at a gym across town and everyone there says he never spars, just comes in and works all day.” Derek added thinking of all the things he’d ever heard about Foyet; which considering the legend he’d created was very little.
“Well…”Spencer started, the look on his face making Derek and Hotch wonder just how long this was going to take.
----------------------
Two and a half hours later Derek found himself much more educated in the mindset of his opponent and on Doctor Spencer Reid. The latter intrigued him more than Derek liked to think about. Spencer held himself in a way that Derek was completely unfamiliar and in awe of; he didn’t seem to think that anyone looked at him-that he wasn’t being judged about anything other than what was coming out of his mouth-and yet he was hyperaware. He noticed everything and used it, not to his own advantage but for others. It was astounding how enthralled with this younger man Derek was.
“You should come to the fight tonight.” And it seemed that Derek couldn’t keep these interests to himself, even if he tried. “Find out if all your theories are right.”
“I would enjoy that, I’ve never been to a fight before.” Spencer said putting his hat back on, a signal of his departure. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch, I had a lot of fun.”
“No problem Spencer, I’ll see you at the match tonight.” Hotch said standing up and hugging him in an almost fatherly gesture.
“I’ll see you. Derek…” Spencer began turning to his right, looking at his new acquaintance.
“I’ll see you tonight, if I win I’ll buy you dinner as thanks.” Derek said extending his hand and smiling in what he hoped was new friendship.
“I warn you, I have expensive tastes.” Spencer said returning the smile and the hand.
“I can handle it.”
Chapter Two
Hotch- as Derek had named him after many tries on his French teammates part to pronounce his name- was not an agent in the sense that Derek was, but in the more literal sense that he was one of Paris’ most successful, yet not well known, Managers. Unlike most agents however Hotch didn’t just manage boxers, or even athletes. He would help anyone he saw with talent get where they wanted to go, and made a lot of money doing it. Derek knew of only one other client of Hotch’s a singer that he’d been introduced to: Penelope Garcia, a Catalonian born just south of the France-Spain border, she would often claim ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ as her inspiration for moving to Paris, saying that she was a Catalonian who discovered she was pregnant by a man who was now in prison, where else would she go?
Coming closer Hotch frowned deeply, walking faster coming to a stop right in front of Derek. Taking Derek’s pack from up off the floor, he casually lead Derek to the entrance of the club, looking from any outsiders perspective as if Derek was the one doing the leading and calling the shots.
“Why were you fighting Will? He’s not nearly challenging enough for what we’ve got going on tonight!” Hotch raved quietly as they exited the club and walked down the street.
“Relax. I fought Christian and Michael before you showed up, plenty challenging. Will was more of a favor for him than practice for me.” Derek soothed grabbing back his bag and slinging it across his broad chest.
“You’re going to be fighting Foyet tonight Derek, it’s not exactly the time to be handing out favors. Do I have to remind you what happened last time Foyet fought someone? The only reason I’m even letting you do this is because you said you’d be prepared, you said you’d knock the guy out first try and not even let him get near you.” Hotch reminded him walking a bit slower now and lowering his voice to an actual speaking tone.
“I know I did, and I am. I’m so prepared I can’t stand it. Don’t worry, I won’t let him even get a punch in okay?” Derek asked stepping in front of Hotch to stop him, not receiving an answer he tried again. “Okay, mom?”
“I told you not to call me that.” Was the only reply Derek received.
“I can’t help it you worry to much, reminds me of my mom.” Derek said affectionately slinging his arm around the agent’s shoulders. “Now I think it’s about time you take me to lunch.”
“On me of course,” Hotch smiled a rare smile, reserved usually for when Derek was being cocky.
“Of course.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Hotch began before hearing Derek groan loudly, “What?”
“Last time you wanted to ‘talk to me about lunch’ was when I met Pen, and I really don’t need you setting me up anymore. We talked about that.” Derek reminded the older man.
“Yes, we did that’s why were going to meet Doctor Spencer Leopold Reid, not a woman. Who shall I remind you, you are very close friends with now?” Hotch scolded walking them across the street and to the door of a café.
“Really? And, why may I ask are we meeting him?” Derek asked intrigued.
“You’ll find out I’m sure.” Hotch answered mysteriously walking into the café and getting them a table outside.
Derek laughed openly drawing a few looks his way, shaking his head at the antics of his manager he followed him and sat down at a wrought-iron table.
“So really who is this guy?” Derek asked after ordering a water until their mysterious guest arrived to complete their party.
“He’s a pianist that I manage,” Hotch answered looking over a menu.
“I thought you said he was a doctor, and why are we meeting a pianist?” Derek asked perplexed.
“He is a doctor, and a genius. He was actually one of my first clients, eleven years ago. He was eight and saw him in the park. He was moving his hands across this stone bench just like he was playing a piano, so I went over and asked him if he knew how to play or was just pretending, I was a hawk for talent even then. His fingers were bleeding, Derek, he didn’t even notice he was so entranced.” Hotch said with an amazed look on his face “I took him to my house and had Sophie fix him up. We figured out that he lived with his mentor Jason Gideon- a yank like you. I convinced him to let me get some gigs for Spencer and we’ve been working together ever since. He has a perfect memory, anything you put in front of the kid he can remember. So we sent him to college, and he got his degree in music, then another in literature, then another and another. We just can’t keep the kid away from his books.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. Why’s he meeting me?” Derek questioned astonished at the life’s story of Spencer Reid.
“That I really will make you wait for until he gets here.” Hotch replied pulling up his menu once again.
After a few minutes of trying to decide whether he wanted the chicken or a stew that had what he would guess to be mushrooms in it, a shadow fell upon their table marking the presence of on Doctor Spencer Reid.
That shadow was one that light up Derek’s day. He looked like Monceau at night; all the cities lights shining through the trees onto Derek’s face and the calm of abandoned stone gazebos. He looked like Derek’s first summer in France; so strange, new, and everything he’d dreamed of all those years in America. He was dressed very stylishly in a dark navy three piece suit; however the jacket of his three piece was a soft crème blazer and he wore a bowler hat slung far back on his head showcasing his long Oscar Wilde-esque brunette hair. He looked so carefree and unique that Derek could not help but stare if just for a moment. Spencer looked shyly about the table at both men sitting; and it endeared him to Derek all the more.
“Hello Spencer,” Hotch said standing and grasping the young man in a familiar hug. “Decided to forgo the tie today?”
“Have to change it up every once in a while,” Spencer smiled back easily sitting in between the two men on the far side of the table.
“Spencer, I’d like you to meet Derek Morgan a very talented boxer; Derek, this is Doctor Spencer Reid I was telling you about,” Hotch introduced the pair with an eye towards both, judging reactions and motions.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan,” Spencer said extending his hand across the table to shake with Derek.
“Derek, please. It’s nice to meet you as well, Hotch was just telling me a little about you.” Derek said shaking the warm, soft hand firmly.
“Then I insist you call me Spencer, and I assure you whatever he said while almost undoubtedly true was most likely very out of character and a most misleading statement.” Spencer replied smiling widely and looking out of the corner of his eye at Hotch.
“Oh really? Has our little Hotch been misleading us?” Derek teased taking Spencer’s cue and looking across the table to the older man.
“I do not mislead, I direct conversations in the way I would like them to head.” Hotch stated, staring pointedly down at his menu.
“Of course,” Spencer said taking off his hat and throwing it on the table next to him. “So what, may I ask, did you call me here for?”
“Well, Derek has a very important fight tonight that I thought you might enjoy helping with.” Hotch began as he met eyes with Derek laughing inwardly at the question in the boxer’s eyes. “You see, the man that Derek is fighting tonight is the most dangerous boxer in France, and we could use every advantage. I know you’ve been studying psychology lately and I was thinking that perhaps seeing into Foyet’s mindset would be useful.”
Hearing the new project set out for him Spencer’s eyes began to shine in excitement and his mouth began to twitch as if explanations were already beginning to pour out of his brain. Derek couldn’t help but be amused at the clear joy in the young pianists eyes at sharing his seemingly infinite knowledge.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. Even psychologists don’t realize the full applications for the field, and projects like this are the perfect testing ground for just about every theory that we have. I’m more than happy to help, tell me what we know about Foyet. Anything you know is helpful; where he grew up, what he likes, even his favorite foods can tell us a lot about him.” Spencer said leaning forward as worked his way from calm, charming pianist to excitable, intense intellectual.
“Well, no one knows much. He’s from Lyon, that’s where he started boxing. He’s worked his way up from the underground; he used to fight in the streets for cash. I’ve been told that he was so ruthless that no one would fight him anymore and he had to start going to a boxing gym to work off his reputation. However he was recruited and brought to Paris. He’s killed three people in the ring and has been put on probation more times than even you could count Spencer. Not only that, he has a reputation for being the biggest… jerk shall we say in the entire industry.” Hotch started looking to Derek to see if there was anything else to include.
“All the guys hate him; most of them can respect another athlete but this is something else. He works out at a gym across town and everyone there says he never spars, just comes in and works all day.” Derek added thinking of all the things he’d ever heard about Foyet; which considering the legend he’d created was very little.
“Well…”Spencer started, the look on his face making Derek and Hotch wonder just how long this was going to take.
----------------------
Two and a half hours later Derek found himself much more educated in the mindset of his opponent and on Doctor Spencer Reid. The latter intrigued him more than Derek liked to think about. Spencer held himself in a way that Derek was completely unfamiliar and in awe of; he didn’t seem to think that anyone looked at him-that he wasn’t being judged about anything other than what was coming out of his mouth-and yet he was hyperaware. He noticed everything and used it, not to his own advantage but for others. It was astounding how enthralled with this younger man Derek was.
“You should come to the fight tonight.” And it seemed that Derek couldn’t keep these interests to himself, even if he tried. “Find out if all your theories are right.”
“I would enjoy that, I’ve never been to a fight before.” Spencer said putting his hat back on, a signal of his departure. “Thank you for inviting me to lunch, I had a lot of fun.”
“No problem Spencer, I’ll see you at the match tonight.” Hotch said standing up and hugging him in an almost fatherly gesture.
“I’ll see you. Derek…” Spencer began turning to his right, looking at his new acquaintance.
“I’ll see you tonight, if I win I’ll buy you dinner as thanks.” Derek said extending his hand and smiling in what he hoped was new friendship.
“I warn you, I have expensive tastes.” Spencer said returning the smile and the hand.
“I can handle it.”
Chapter Two