AN: Hurray! I finally got a chance to write over lunch break... Of course, our decadent scene with Morgan and Garcia last week was burning in my brain, and I got multiple requests to do something with it, SO!...Here's what I came up with...Moving a little slower with this one because life is so hectic...Still, I hope you enjoy!


A Little Bit of TLC

Penelope strode toward Derek's office with a smile on her face. She'd been worried about him earlier when he'd been shot, but after their brief—and sort of naughty—encounter that had happened once he'd returned, she was feeling much better.

Her steps slowed as she thought about that moment. She'd felt the heat and strength of his rippled abs under the bandage, the taut skin nearly palpable through the gauze. A flush heated her cheeks, both with sensual memory and with a bit of shame. She shouldn't have been thinking sexual thoughts when he'd been injured, but the moment he'd exposed himself to her...

Thinking of him exposing other parts of himself caused a wash of heat, and she started to fan herself as she walked. Whew! She needed to get a date, and soon, or she was going to jump her poor, unsuspecting, albeit flirtatious best friend.

It was nothing. She had to remember it was nothing.

She stopped in her tracks and groaned. She'd tried to tell Jayje that, too, and she didn't seem to buy it any more than Penelope was feeling it right now. Who was she kidding? It was so obvious how she felt about her muscled stud muffin, anyone with eyes could see.

Except the object of her affections himself.

"Move on, Garcie," she told herself out loud before she walked into her best friend's office.

They were staying awhile longer tonight at the BAU to help with an emergent case, and then they were going to catch a movie and spend some time together because he'd worried her so. He wanted to make it up to her.

She just wanted to be near him.

"Hey, angelfish. Are you—oh!"

She paused as she stared at Derek, sitting behind his desk. His eyes were closed, and he was panting like she had been a few moments ago. His panting didn't look pleasurable. His looked very, very pained.

She rushed to his side. "Derek, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and forced a grin that looked more like a grimace. "Yeah...Baby...Girl."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lover, you do not look okay. You're sweating, and you don't usually sweat. I mean, you sweat—I've watched you work out in your skivvies enough to know that you sweat quite a bit—but you usually don't sweat just sitting there at your—"

"Hush," he interrupted. He was breathing normally again, and he had the slightest smile. "Honey, I'm fine."

She shot him the hairy eyeball of disbelief.

"Relax, pretty girl," he said with a chuckle, and he raised his hands to ward her off. A consecutive second later, he drew his breath in sharply and he winced...slightly.

She put her hands on her rounded hips and gave him the same look teachers gave their naughtiest pupils. "No lying to me, Derek Morgan."

"I wasn't lying..." hesaid and then mumbled, "a second ago."

"Hot Stuff," she growled in warning, stomping her foot.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly. "I may have overdone it a bit."

She watched as he stood and walked to her. He rubbed his hands over his side and abdomen, and he didn't bother to hide the pained expression he had. Poor baby... Those luscious muscles had to be tender.

"A bit!" she said. "Derek, what did the doctor in the ER tell you?"

"I didn't see a doctor," he groused. "It was a medic."

She rolled her eyes.

He sighed and said in a patronizing tone, "It was just basic discharge stuff. Relax. Don't run. Don't kick down doors... That stuff."

"I don't believe you. In fact," she said, beginning to panic a touch. "What's really under those bandages? A gaping hole two feet wide?" She reached for the hemline of his shirt.

"Calm down, Momma Bear," he said, chuckling and holding her wrists in the strong but tender manacles of his hands. "It's nothing that bad. I moved awkwardly and bumped my ribs. I haven't taken my pain meds...and I'm feelin' it."

Derek? Graceful gazelle Derek Morgan moved awkwardly? He was hurting a lot more than he was willing to admit!

"Why haven't you taken your meds?"

He shrugged. "I have to drive home."

"I'll drive you," she said, reaching for his jacket. "You know that. You should've taken that hours ago. Where is your medication?"

His expression was stubborn. "I'll take it when I get home."

"Now, Hot Stuff."

"No, Garcia."

Oooh. A Garcia instead of a nickname. He wanted to play hardball with his health, hmmm? This called for drastic measures!

"Speaking of mommas," she said, plucking her cellular out from under her left shoulder bra strap. She knew she was playing dirty, calling Fran, but this was serious business.

Derek panicked, his brown eyes huge like saucers. "Don't call her!"

She held out her hand. "Then hand me your discharge instructions."

"Blackmail?" He arched a brow at her. "Really, Baby Girl?"

An unwanted flush of shame rolled over her. No one arched a brow quite like Derek. It was authoritative, like the finely curved exclamation point at the end of a command. It almost quelled her resolve.

Almost.

"Your fault for underestimating my concern for you, peaches," she said and tapped her cellular to start dialing.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he reached for her hand and took her phone, although he winced in pain as he did it.

"Don't hurt yourself," she warned and then added, "Besides, you know I have two other cells and an office nearby..."

He muttered under his breath and then turned to his desk, pulling out a folded over sheet of carbon paper. He thrust it at her. "Here."

Penelope scanned the doctor's discharge orders, and she started to frown immediately. "You were supposed to take the rest of the day easy!"

"I did take it easy."

"You're working!"

"Doing desk work is easy."

"Not when you're hurt!" she snapped and then narrowed her eyes at him. "And I do desk work—it is not always easy."

He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean it that way, sweetness."

She knew he didn't, and she felt kind of bad for being petty when he was hurting. The man knew how to push her buttons like no other person on Earth. Watching him rubbing his sore ribs brought her to the present. "Derek, you need your meds and rest."

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I need food, maybe a glass or two of wine, and then I can take the meds and go to bed."

"That sounds doable," she replied, folding the paper and putting it in her big bag. Then she looped her arm around his waist. "Come on."

He chuckled. "Angel, I can walk just fine. Besides, I can drive myself if we're not going out to dinner."

"No. I am coming with," she said determinedly. "I'm going to take care of you."

The corner of his lips turned up in just the slightest, winsome smile. "Baby, you don't have to do that."

She could be stubborn, too, when it counted. "Yes, I do." Reaching for his jacket, she started to help him don it.

"Sweetheart, I can put my own coat on."

"Oh, no," she replied. "I am your candy striper slash beck-and-call girl slash personal attendant until you get better."

He arched a brow. "Do I get sponge baths and dressing changes?"

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from smiling with delight. "I will make you dinner, pour you some wine, and get you in your bed. How's that?"

His grin turned positively filthy as she helped him on with his jacket. "Gonna get in my bed with me?"

Mercy, he was frisky for a man who'd just been shot! Her cheeks heated again, and the erotic suggestion made her smile. She glanced up at him through her lashes. "I don't know, lover. You're injured. You need all your capacities if you plan to romp in the sack with this rowdy girl."

A smirk crossed his face as he picked up the pace. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get me home and get me better...fast."

A bit dazed, a bit scared, and a lot excited, Penelope led him out the door. Because for the first time in their relationship... Penelope thought he truly meant what he was saying.