Whew! Enjoy!

Derek walked briskly through the halls of Emory Hospital. It had a very familiar smell, a dull acidic scent. It was too early for anyone else to be walking that briskly, but anyone else wasn't an FBI BAU Agent working a case. A case that, this morning, had its first survivor.

As he and JJ rounded the corner, he noted the time. The victim, Riley Scott, had been admitted around midnight. Thankfully doctors had worked fast, she was lucid and willing to talk.

They slowed pace as her room came into view and both paused outside the door. Derek motioning for JJ to go first. Not only would she feel safer that way, but Derek wasn't too eager to interview in a hospital room. This was his first time since Penelope's attack. He braced himself.
As the door opened, Derek released a tense breath. She looked bad. An older black woman held the young girl's hands, massaging them slowly.

"Hello Riley?" JJ spoke into the room. Riley looked up from the bed, puffy eyes and bruises all over her body. Her hair wrapped from her head wound, morphine no doubt also assisting. Derek tried not so stare at the bandages around her shoulder that disappeared onto her back.

"Yes.." Came a soft reply. Nurses warned them she would be weak. They had to be quick.
"I'm Agent Jareau. This is Agent Morgan, we're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions if that's alright?" JJ made sure to speak gently, Derek stood back, leaving the door open. Didn't want the women to feel closed in. The older woman stood, her mother most likely, obviously agitated.
"Please. She just got out of surgery."
"Mom.." Riley reached out a hand. "Mom it's fine…I want to." Her mother sat again, uncomfortable but reserved.

JJ stepped around, coming close enough to the foot of the bed to touch and Riley groaned to sit up. Derek flinched. There were more bandages covering her chest now peaking out from her hospital gown. He wanted to leave.

"Do you remember anything from your attack?" JJ asked.
Riley told the same story they pieced together from the 911 call her neighbor made. She had gotten off of work and was getting home late. She was attacked outside of her small apartment door, head hit and bruises around her neck. He had assumed her dead, and was beginning to slice at her chest when the neighbor's dog caused a stir. The Neighbor found her bloody and unconscious.

"Right before I blacked out I heard him…" Riley was crying now. "I heard him say that he was waiting to do this all day…"

Derek tried hard not to react. That was the same phrase . Flashes of Garcia on the ground, bloody outside her own door, her neighbor coming to find her, the same fear she felt. He clenched his fist.
'Focus on the case man.'
"Did you get a look at your attacker?" JJ continued softly. Riley nodded. "I saw him earlier too…at the club."
JJ looked back at Derek but he already was stepping out of the room and calling Hotch.

The door clicked close as Hotch answered. "Hotch. The victim saw our Unsub. We need a guy down here to get a sketch while she's still up for it."
"Sending one now. Once he's done, get some sleep. I'm calling it for the day."
"Got it." He ended the call and opened a new text message.
He only got to 'Hey babygirl' before deleting it, not sure what exactly he was trying to say.

"Shit." Hotch was right. He needed to get a handle on this.

Garcia had been staring at the screen in front of her for far too long. And that's saying something, coming from her. Looking through the footage from Strokers had taken much longer than she expected(It was like they intentionally put this stuff out of focus). But, to be honest, that's not entirely why she had stayed up to late. A certain word document laid open behind a few layers of windows and she just kept….staring. Opening it and closing it. Unsure of what to do….

The clock on the screen said in a very rude tone that it was 2:43am.
Welp. Time to call it a night. She typed out a few simple lines of code, plugged the rest of the footage into a scanner, and turned the monitor off. This would at least clean it up and flag anything for her to look through in the morning. As for the file, that'll just have to wait as well.

The room had gotten dark, almost black. She was comfortable in the blackness, often letting her own bedroom at home grow dark while staring at pixels. But she didn't have twenty-something year old eyes anymore. They got angry doing this night after night.

The soft glow of the city outside her window let her see enough to meander to the bed and retrieve the classic PJs: a simple shirt + shorts combo. Complete with white bunny slippers.

Penelope massaged her back slightly, poking at the lines left by her bra. One day, when she turns sixty-something, She'll burn it. Like a good anarchist. Now off to brush the teeth, wash the face, chug the water, eat the snacks-

Her hand hit the bare nightstand where a pack of muddy buddies were supposed to be. That's right, she left it on the plane. After much groaning and pushing down that voice that sounded much like a mean old aunt about how 'you don't really need those Penny', Garcia was down the hall.

The short walk without a screen made her mind race again. There needed to be a decision made about this work of B+ fiction(at best), it was causing too much stress. Should she keep it? Trash it? Probably roll a dice about it. Best 7 out of 15 or something. The noise of the vending machine as she entered the small room interrupted whatever thought was coming next.

"Oh, hey babygirl. Can't sleep either?"
Of course, of fucking course he was here. Derek Morgan was standing there with his warm, sleepy voice in front of the floor's refreshment selection, looking very snack-able himself. And there she was, In years-old shorts and fucking bunny slippers. He was reaching down to grab his recently purchased prize, barely glancing behind him.

"You know we have room service." She unzipped her coin purse, trying to not rush herself.

Derek was quick, "Yeah but you're not on the menu." As he turned fully to give that oh-so-practiced smile, he glanced down, presumably at the white ears on her feet. Don't blush he'll read you like a fucking book be cool be cool.

"Hey. Eyes up here mister." Good. Easy banter. No problem. Penelope swooped in to put her money and pressed D5. Muddy Buddies it is.
It wasn't until they ka-thunked from their spot in the machine did she notice that Derek hadn't offered anything back. She looked at him leaned against the adjacent wall, coke in hand.

He still wore the same outfit form today, dark jeans and a light shirt. His eyes looked irritated, a little drained, and were staring into the space above her. Was this case that bad for him?
"Hey.…" She turned to him. "What's up?"

He glanced at her, then away sighing. A long drag from the can and then, "You know the girl who survived today?" Penelope nodded. "The unsub….the attack. It just shook me up."
She shifted her feet to come closer, it was unusual for Derek to be this sensitive. She waited for him to continue.
"The girl was beat up bad, and this guy he told her uhh…" Another swig. She could tell he wished it was something stronger. "He said the same thing Jason said to you." He almost sounded embarrassed.

That took her aback. If she didn't know for sure that man was gone from this plane of existence, she would have started sweating. But oddly enough, no fear came. Just empathy. This was a reminder of how far the ripple goes when you almost die. You're not the only one who's been scared.

Penelope placed a soft hand on his now-crossed arms. "Hey. I'm right here, yeah? That was forever ago and he's gone and I'm..here. And I'm fine." He breathed out as she spoke. "And its because of you and the team. You catch the bad guys. And you'll keep catching them."
He nodded slowly. It was so refreshing to see this side again, this contemplative and soft Derek Morgan.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly Derek's arms were around her, her face in his shoulder. It was a nice feeling. Warm. Something familiar and comfortable. Something that was caring. His arms hugged her back in that solid way, the same way you see in movies.

"Guys like him exist and you'll keep getting them. And I'll still be here." Penelope found herself saying as they swayed slightly, the muddy buddies crinkling. Derek smelled great, like he always does. But god, up close? Forget about it. She internally giggled, thinking how 5-years-ago her would write this scene. How salacious it could become, hugging the hot as hell Derek Morgan in nothing but her jimmies. She indulged in the tingly feeling it gave her.

And then her face dropped. She remembered.
She wasn't wearing a bra.

Heat rushed to her face as she panicked. Could he feel her boobs? Of course he could feel her boobs, they weren't exactly pre-pubescent. Jesus christ.
Penelope must have tensed because Derek pulled his head back, but distinctly did not release her, face maybe 6 inches apart. He could definitely see her face, he could definitely see she was blushing, which means he was definitely about to deduce WHY she was blushing, which made her blush harder.

But he didn't say anything. He didn't say 'what is it?' or 'you blushin' for me?' or any other thing that would make this more bearable. He just stared at her face. And Penelope was tingly again. And blushing. She wanted to squirm away, muddy buddies and all. She also wanted to tell him to make her knees weak. How did he get his skin so fucking smooth?

Just when she thought she might combust, a pretty skinny Einstein linguine rounded the corner.
"Oh, hey guys…" Derek and Penelope quickly let go of one another, painfully aware of how they probably looked. But of course, the ever intelligent acted as if he didn't notice a thing.

Reid held up a black bucket "We we're out of ice, thought I'd get some." Whether he was just acting or not, Penelope was grateful for the save, yet again.
"Well, I'll just bid you boys goodnight. Enjoy your, uhh, ice…" She dashed out the room, barely looking behind her.

As she slid into bed, munching her snack, Penelope tried very very hard to stop blushing. She replayed the hug over and over on cinema-scope, the look on his face and how close she was to it. She lifted her collar to look down her shirt. Shit. She hoped to god that he didn't feel her nipples get hard.

Garcia furiously finished her snack, forced herself to think Christian thoughts, and through sheer determination finally fell asleep. She was a Tech Analyst with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit on a case. This was NOT supposed to be happening.

I adore Muddy Buddies. Very satisfying snack those.

Reviews always welcome!