After hearing Derek's comment about not wanting to sleep with him in Alaska, Spencer opted to spend a few days at his own apartment to cool down. He would admit, most of that time was spent upset, sometimes even crying out of pure frustration. He didn't care what the situation was: hearing your boyfriend openly proclaim he wanted nothing to do with you hurt. Understandably, they couldn't make their relationship public, due to the ridiculous fraternization rules that were in place for them. The fact that Derek was so quick to tell everyone he wasn't going to be in the same room as him sucked. That night, he'd slept in the same room as JJ, and he opted to sleep on the floor. Once in the comfort of his own apartment, he curled up in a blanket in his favorite chair, trying to think of a way to get back at Derek. He wasn't one for revenge and silly little games, but this wasn't something he was going to let go of easily.

At work, he avoided spending any time around Derek like the plague: it was especially easy, considering Derek had an office further down the hall and would only go through the bullpen to make his way to the coffeemaker. There were a couple of days that Derek attempted to talk to him, but he'd simply brush it off and go back to his work. Nobody else on the team picked up on the behavior, and Spencer was thankful for that, considering nobody knew they were together. Though it was childish, Spencer found the silent treatment to be working.

The one time the plan was flawed, however, was when Spencer was getting out of the shower and heard his phone ringing. Knowing it could be work, he groaned, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist and running to his room, picking it up and answering it.

"Hello?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Oh, so your voice does work?"

He groaned, cursing himself. "Yes, Derek?" he asked, walking back into the bathroom and putting the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter and drying himself off before getting dressed.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

He ran the towel through his hair before grabbing a brush, attempting to brush through his hair. "I haven't, I've just been busy with paperwork," he lied, wincing when his hair hit a snarl. "In case you haven't noticed, serial killers don't take holidays, and there's plenty of work every single day for us."

"So you're telling me you haven't been trying to get away from me or ignoring me at all?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, you just choose inopportune moments to want to talk, it's really a gift of yours."

"You're not mad?"

"I'm about to be if you don't stop asking such simple questions I've already answered." He set the brush down. "Is that all?"

"I guess so. Come back to my place tonight, stay for the weekend?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't. I have the landlord coming to look at the busted light fixture in the living room, and I'm pretty sure his definition of 'between 8:00 and 5:00' is code for 'whenever I feel like showing up'."

"You know I could fix that thing for you in a hurry."

He knew Derek was trying to suck up to him – the tone of the voice indicated knowledge that he'd done something wrong. "It's in my rent agreement that he has to fix things like this, and for what I pay for this place, I'm going to get my money's worth." He eyed the clock. "Listen, Derek, I'm going to read and turn in. I'll see you at work on Monday."

"So I'm not seeing you at all this weekend?"

"Probably not. While I'm waiting for my landlord, I have to work on my final assignment for my philosophy class, and I don't like being bothered while I'm working on things, you know that."

"Alright then, I guess I'll see you on Monday. Love you."

He smiled slightly. "Love you too." He hung up the phone, plugging it in to charge. He then laid down on his bed, putting a pillow behind his back and grabbing the book off his nightstand. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times before smirking, finally coming up with the perfect revenge for what Derek had said.

The next day, Spencer went to get a haircut: Derek had been nagging him for the past few months about his hair being too long, and constantly told him he missed it when it was short. Not only was Derek going to get what he wanted, but he wasn't going to be able to do a damn thing with it.

"What can I do for you today?" one of the women asked, putting one of the aprons over Spencer and snapping it in the back.

He clicked his tongue. "I want it shorter – much shorter, actually. I want to get rid of the long hair look and go for more of a, for lack of a better word, model-esque look, if that makes sense?"

She nodded, patting his arm. "It makes perfect sense, I'll see what I can do."

He watched as the hair was cut off, seeing it fall to the ground in little piles. Once he saw the end result he smirked, reaching up and running his fingers through it.

"How is it?"

"Perfect, thank you."

She unsnapped the apron and, after paying, he walked out, extremely proud of himself and eager to go back to work.

Monday morning when his cell phone started ringing, he reached over, answering it.

"Hello?" he mumbled.

"Good morning to you too, Spence."

He sighed. "Let me guess – it's Monday morning, and we're lucky enough to have a new case, ready and waiting."

"You got it. Can you get here in a half hour?"

He thought to himself. "I can try like hell, it depends on the trains, really. If I don't make it in time, just start without me and I'll catch up."

"That sounds like the perfect plan, thank you."

"No problem." He hung up, burying his head in his pillow and groaning, before getting up and rummaging through his closet.

After pulling on a purple shirt and tie, he put on a pair of black slacks and mismatched socks. He went to the bathroom, checking his reflection and tousling his hair with his fingers. Shortly after, he put his bag over his shoulder, slipping on his shoes and walking out the door.

Thanks to the trains being backed up, he made it into work about ten minutes late. The elevator stopped on his floor and he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, before walking into the BAU room, taking his usual seat.

"…Well, hello," JJ spoke up, noticing his new haircut.

He smirked slightly, dragging the case file over to him.

Hotch then turned to look at him. "What, did you join a boy band?"

He raised an eyebrow. "…No?"

JJ smiled and Garcia gave him a thumbs up, before the two of them continued working on the briefing together. As it was going on, Spencer noticed Derek staring at him, looking at his hair and going back into his own mind. Spencer took this as a small victory before tuning back in to the briefing.

"Okay, so what are we looking at here?" Emily spoke up. "Late 20s, early 30s."

"All single, though 2 are in committed relationships. All living on their own," Rossi noted.

Derek shrugged. "Looks like normal suburban houses gives the unsub privacy."

Spencer held up a finger. "The differences are more striking than the similarities – different hair colors, different body shapes."

Hotch looked at JJ. "What do we know about his M.O.?"

"That's why we were invited in, the abduction sites are pristine."

Spencer couldn't help but notice that Derek kept getting distracted by his new look, and he knew he'd done exactly what he'd intended. He reached up, running a hand through his hair. He heard Garcia talking about social networking sites and could remember a few statistics to contribute.

"You know, social networks are an easy way for an unsub to target his victims. These women were especially open. They posted everything from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "So this unsub friends his victims and then uses that as a cover once he takes them."

As someone who wasn't all that into the digital age, Spencer couldn't help but feel somewhat defeated that he wasn't going to be as helpful as he could. He heard Hotch dismiss the group with a warning that they were leaving in two hours, which gave him time to go home and pack.

Spencer was walking to the train station when a car pulled up beside him. He looked over and saw Derek rolling down the window, trying to get his attention.

"Yes?"

"With how bad the trains are running these days, you'll never make it home and to the airstrip in time. Come on, let me give you a ride back to your place."

He gave Derek a look before shrugging it off, opening the door and getting in. The ride to his place was quiet, and he rummaged through his bag for his keys.

Derek looked at him. "Do you mind if I come in and grab something to drink?"

He shook his head. "Not at all." He shouldered his bag and walked inside, going up the steps and unlocking his front door, going directly to his bedroom. He packed his bag in record time and zipped it up, grabbing the handle and walking out, setting it beside the door.

"I'm ready to go, Derek," he called out, leaning toward the kitchen.

Derek walked out, resting a hand against the wall beside Spencer's head.

"Yes?" Spencer asked, looking him in the eyes.

Derek reached up and rested a hand on Spencer's cheek. "Pretty Boy, I really love your hair like this. I can't wait to run my fingers through it." He placed a soft kiss on his lips and pulled back, reaching a hand up.

Spencer swatted it away, smirking. "I think you'll be waiting a little while then," he whispered.

Derek looked at him, confused. "What? Why?"

Spencer leaned in, lowering his voice. "Does the phrase 'I'm not sleeping with Reid' ring a bell?" he asked.

Derek stepped back. "You can't be serious right now."

Spencer hit his hand away again. "Using your own words, Derek. Paybacks are a bitch." He leaned over, kissing his cheek and patting it. "Let's hope that'll hold you over while you think about what you did."

Spencer put his bags over his shoulder, taking his keys out of his pocket and walking out of the apartment, leaving Derek standing there, his mouth hung open and ready to mentally slap himself for what he'd said aloud in Alaska.