This is the best idea I have ever had.

Summary: You and your FBI husband have a two-year-old daughter in dance. I think you can imagine how this is gonna go...

QOTP: Do you dance?

Word Count: 1222

Derek -
"Are you sure?" he asks.

You sigh, grabbing your keys, "Yes, babe. You will be fine."

"Isn't there someone else who can take her?" he pleads.

"She's your daughter, Derek. And she misses you. A lot. Please just take her to dance class."

"Alright... Alright, little love."

He walks over and kisses you. "Love you."

"Love you, too," you reply, walking out the door.

"Into battle," he mutters, going upstairs to find his daughter playing in her room.

She looks up at him with her big, Y/E/C eyes; they're just like yours. "Are you taking me to dance class?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm taking you to dance class."

Maybe this won't be so bad...

"Alright, what are we wearing?" he asks, sitting on her floor.

She runs over to her dresser and opens the drawers, pulling out tights, a leotard, and a dance skirt. Then, she sits on the floor. "You have to put on my tights first."

Derek nods, then attempts to put on the tights, but it takes longer than he expected. "Daddy, you have to bunch them up first," she whines. After that fight, she stands up and hands him her leotard.

He holds it out and she starts to step into it, placing her little hands on his broad shoulders so she doesn't fall over. Then, the same for the skirt.

"Now you have to put my hair in a ponytail," she says, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom.

He finds the ponytail holders and attempts to put up her hair like you do for about fifteen minutes. Finally, he manages.

"Go get your bag, sweetheart," he says. She runs down the hallway and into her room, nearly falling a couple times. A few seconds later, she shoots out of the room and down the stairs, all the way to the car.

"Come on! Come on, daddy! Let's go!"

He chuckles to himself, then puts her in her car seat. Before closing the door, he kisses her forehead.

////

"Hayley!" Y/D/N shouts the second she gets to class. The other girl, Hayley, runs to meet your daughter. Derek recognizes the girl from the few play dates he's been home for.

"Oh, you're Y/N's husband, right?" the dance teacher asks.

Derek nods, "Yeah, that's me."

"You're in the FBI, aren't you?" a mom asks.

Derek turns, nodding, "Uh, yeah. I'm in the BAU."

What Derek didn't notice was that virtually all of the moms thought he was spicier than in the pictures you'd shown them... [hOT tamale]

"Daddy! Daddy!" Y/D/N shouts, unknowingly saving him from an awkward conversation with the moms.

He quickly walks over to her and crouches to her height. "Yeah, baby?"

"Watch me, okay?" She looks at him seriously, her eyes widening a bit.

He nods, just as serious. "Of course, sweetheart, I'll watch you. I'll be right outside this window, okay?"

"Okay," she says with a final nod, running into the dance room.

Derek walks back into the parents' room, sitting in between two moms. The chairs are too close for his liking; his muscles are almost too big to fit.

The moms talk around him while he's watching his daughter dance. He hears snippets of conversations about costumes, make-up, Channing Tatum, and a few whispers about him.

"So, do you carry a gun?" a mom asks.

Derek looks over. "Uh... yeah."

"Do you have one right now?" another mom asks.

"No..."

"Have you killed people?"

"Bad people, yeah."

"Do you have a badge?"

"Yeah."

"How much is the government keeping from us?"

"I don't-"

"How long will Y/N be gone?"

"Ju-" Derek stops himself, realizing what the question was. He merely sinks into his chair as the mom who asked the question turns away.

Just focus on Y/D/N. Just focus on Y/D/N.

He watches as she tries to shuffle-shuffle-step to the song the teacher was playing; something about colors. Laughing to himself, he takes a little video and sends it to you, knowing you'd want him to.

The rest of the evening went smoothly (besides the first shoe change; he had difficulty putting her ballet shoes on). If he was honest with himself, it actually wasn't that bad.

But it's never happening again.

Spencer -
Ever since you signed your daughter up for dance, Spencer's been going to every practice he's been home for; he wants to be with you every chance he gets.

Because of this, he's pretty tight with the other moms.

Spencer got home only yesterday, and Y/D/N particularly missed him - she's been clinging to him since he walked in the door.

For instance, she made him walk around the house while she was clinging to his leg. You had to admit, it was cute, but Spencer was exhausted. Still, he did it anyway. Anything for his little girl.

Speaking of that, when Y/D/N has to go into the other room to dance, she cries. Loudly. You start to get up and go calm her down, but Spencer stops you and goes instead.

While the dance teacher is lining all the other girls up, your daughter is standing there, crying. Spencer crouches down in front of her and places his hands on her arms.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks.

She sniffs, "I-I wanna stay with you! I miss you, Daddy." She sticks her bottom lip out and widens her eyes, giving him her infamous puppy dog face. And it works on him. Every time.

He pats her head and stands up to talk to the teacher. "Do you mind if I, uh, stay with her...?"

The teacher nods, pointing to a chair at the front of the room. "You can sit just over there."

"Thanks," he says, awkwardly making his way over.

While Y/D/N isn't crying anymore, she still won't dance.

Her dance teacher notices this. "Y/D/N, will you dance for me? Can you do your toe backs?"

"No," she replies, shaking her little head. "I want Daddy to dance with me."

The dance teacher turns to Spencer, who sheepishly stands up. "Y/D/N, are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"... Alright."

He stands next to her on the line as you and the other moms crack up at the sight of your six-foot husband in a line of two-year-olds.

Then, the teacher starts dancing. And, as Y/D/N wishes, he does every step.

"Alright, hands on hips, please. And bounce... Ready?"

It began with an eight-count of shuffle-steps, an eight-count of heels, and an eight-count of toe-backs. Then, they had to twist to the ground, twist back up, sugar in a circle, wave at the audience, and a repeat of the beginning.

And the pose.

Right hand on right hip, left leg popped up, and left hand on left knee.

Y/D/N did every step, and now she and the other girls are laughing at her father.

Meanwhile, you're sending the video you just took to Morgan...