“Well, I’m older and farther along in my transition now, and I’ve always been fairly self-possessed when it comes to my gender identity, so it’s usually more of a dissonance than a discomfort. Other times, though…” Spencer trails off with a shudder, pulling at the front of his shirt.
“That bad, huh?” Derek asks.
“Imagine being covered with maggots, or whatever small invertebrate you find most disgusting. Then, imagine they’re under your skin instead of on top of it.” Spencer rubs his arms like he’s cold and cringes.
Derek takes a moment to imagine that particular sensation and doesn’t like where it takes him. “Oh, God, and like, in places? ”
“In places, ” Spencer confirms in a disgusted, but still amused tone.
“Nice,” Derek hisses, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to take a long, hot shower and scrub himself until he bled.
Garcia chooses that moment to walk in, handing a coffee to Reid and winking at Morgan. “Whatcha talking about, boys? Looks pretty interesting.”
“Oh, nothing-”
“Maggots, but in your coochie-slash-dick-slash-genitalia of choice,” Morgan interrupts.
Garcia gags. “Uh, can the genitalia of choice be no genitalia? Why are you talking about that?”
“We weren’t Spencer protests, face red. “Derek was, and I was-”
“Implying the existence of maggots in someone’s dick? Yes, you were, Pretty Boy,” Morgan laughs, throwing an arm around Spencer’s shoulder. “It’s like… what did you call it the other day? ‘Death of the author?’ It doesn’t matter what your original intentions were, because the reader (me) interpreted it as coochie bugs, so now we’re stuck with coochie bugs.”