a/n: Just a teensy oneshot inspired by the season premiere. Something that would never happen but would make me incredibly happy if it did! :)
The microwave beeped, and Penelope opened it, pulling out the bag of popcorn that would round out her night. Her time in Britain had caused her to get behind on some of her favorite shows, thus planning her entire first weekend home. Thank God for DVR!
She shrieked as the steam from the bag burnt her hand, dropped it on the counter, and walked over to the faucet to put her hand under cold water. She sighed heavily. "Not off to a good start," she muttered.
And why would it be? After what had happened in London, every weekend for the rest of her life was sure to be subpar. She could still see Derek walking toward her, that hideous pink towel with white lace around the edges riding low on his hips…his chest glistening with water droplets that slid down his mocha colored flesh. Her eyelids slid closed and she groaned softly at the memory.
A persistent hammering noise thrust her from her reverie, and she scowled as she stalked toward her front door. "This better be good," she grumbled as she heaved the door back. "Derek!" she said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I can't stop thinking about London," he said breathlessly.
She took in his sweat soaked t-shirt and black running pants. "Did you run all the way here?" she asked in surprise.
"Yes," he answered.
Penelope took a deep breath. "OK...ten miles! Ten. Miles. From your house to mine! Those weren't enough miles to clear your head?" she asked accusingly.
He lifted his hand to her cheek. "Penelope," he said softly.
"No!" she said as she took a step back. "We decided that what happened in London was an eleven time thing. We're never going to do that again. We agreed on that. Remember, Derek?"
"Well, hell, yes, I remember," he replied. "You were against the closet door and I'd just—"
"Enough!" she said, her cheeks flaming as she remembered exactly what he'd just done.
"No!" he argued. "Not enough! I was going to let this stay an eleven time thing, but then I come back from Texas, and you were wearing that damn shirt…"
His voice trailed off as she gave him a puzzled look.
"Keep Calm and Look Busy," he reminded her. "It was practically an invitation! Those damn words were covering two of my favorite body parts of yours, and oh, Baby Girl," he said with a groan as his eyes slid down her ratty purple robe. "All I could think about was getting busy."
"No! No, no no, Derek," she insisted.
"You promised!" she reminded him.
"I lied!" he shot back without missing a beat.
"I…I can't," she said. "Derek…I'm going to close this door, and then you're going to leave. And we are never going to speak of this again. Do you hear me?"
"Never!" she said, thrusting her finger against his chest. She narrowed her gaze at him as she stepped back enough to close the door and watched his face disappear behind the heavy oak.
She turned around and let her body sag against the door. What was he thinking? Showing up at her door like this and proposing they…do what they'd done in London! Was he crazy?! Was…
Holy hell! Was she crazy? Derek Morgan had just shown up at her front door—a scenario she'd played over and over in her head countless times but had never believed would happen—to have sex with her! And she'd shut the door in his face? What in the hell was wrong with her?
She spun around as fast as she could and seized the doorknob. She hauled the door it with such force the knob left her hand and it crashed against the wall.
She sighed in relief when she saw a smirking Derek still standing there.
"I don't think one more time would kill us," she said breathlessly.