Apology

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.

This started with the prompt of the Aerosmith song 'Love in an Elevator'. I set up a poll for which pairing and ended up with Garcia/Morgan. This is just for a bit of fun with one of my favourite pairs (the two that originally got me hooked on ff). In the wonderful world of fiction, Derek and Pen are married, but have a little falling out, which of course means they have to make it up again!

. . . .

Standing outside in the corridor, Derek waited. He was a patient man and if it took all night, he would be there. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes. He hadn't meant it, he never did. It wasn't that he didn't think; he was just impulsive. Wasn't that one of the things she loved about him?

"In the dog house, are we?" Rossi questioned, as he sauntered past on his way home.

Derek gave an uneasy smile.

"That's married life for you, after all I should know," he continued, "Thought I'd have learnt after the first one."

"Any advice for those of us who are new to this and would prefer to remain married?" Derek almost pleaded.

"Don't think I'm qualified to answer that, do you?" as he carried on towards the elevator, Rossi turned to add "Try grovelling."

"Thanks, thanks a bunch," Derek snorted, glad someone found it entertaining that his wife of less than one year, Penelope Garcia-Morgan was right now royally pissed with him.

Derek wasn't entirely sure why, what he had done this time, was so much worse than any other time, but obviously it was. He could tell. First, she hadn't met him from the elevator on the team's return. Second, when he went to find her in her liar she had proceeded to threaten him with all sorts of unmentionable events, none of which he liked the sound of. Finally; and only after she had finished throwing things at him, did she announce that she was cross with him. As if everything else hadn't been a big enough clue.

When he had stepped back out of her office, Penelope was settling into a quite state of supreme calm, that bothered Derek more than the ranting and raving.

So now he waited. She couldn't hide in there all night. She had to come out to go home, right. So now it was only a matter of time.

. . . .

Penelope slowly packed up her things. Having spent the last half hour rearranging everything she had previously thrown at Derek, she was now ready to go home.

Taking a deep breath she made her way towards the office door. She knew he would be out there waiting for her, but she wasn't ready to forgive him, yet!

As she opened the door, she could smell his familiar scent, God he smelt good. Be strong girl, make him suffer, he deserves it.

Penelope walked right by him, without saying a word. Derek quickly fell into step beside her.

"I wondered when you were going to give in a go home," Derek started, "You know we're the last ones here, even Hotch has gone. You really know how to do stubborn, don't you?"

Penelope stopped dead in her tracks, spinning on her emerald green heels, she faced Derek's broad chest square on. Sighing she straightened up to her full height in the hope to gain more ground in her argument.

"If it had failed to escape your uber brilliant profiling brain, right now I am so angry with you that I do not have a single appropriate word to describe it. Therefore I would prefer not to speak to you at all."

Turning back she headed for the elevator.

Derek raised an eyebrow and headed after her.

. . . .

Standing in the elevator, Derek looked over at his wife, as they travelled in silence. She was beautiful, she always had been, but he had to admit there was something very sexy about a cross Penelope. Maybe it was the way she pouted, or the confident manner she carried herself, or the fact that he would have to work hard to get her into bed tonight.

As if reading his mind Pen turned to glare at him again, daring him to try anything now they were alone.

A dare he was willing to accept.

"You know I am sorry," Derek said, dropping his head.

"Really, well that makes everything ok."

"Does it," he looked up hopefully.

"No."

"Baby, I know you worry, but this is my job, I didn't do anything differently today then I have done a hundred times before. Why is 'this' such a bit deal?"

Derek took a step towards her, as Pen slowly backed into the corner of the box.

"It's always a big deal. I hate that you have to play the hero, you have to be the first one in, putting yourself in the line of what every nasty it is you are chasing. I hate it!"

"Babe," he cooed, closing the gap, "Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you are cross?"

"Don't," Pen held up a finger, which she started jabbing into his chest as he took a small step closer, "Don't think you can sweet talk me Derek Morgan. I know your charm and it won't work this time. I am so furious I could . . . "

"What?" he added, as he took the final step towards Pen, she was in the corner, no space to escape. Derek placed one hand either side of her, as he leant forward, so close to kissing her, but just far enough apart to fail to make the connection.

He could feel her warm breath on him as he paused, waiting for her to react. Looking deep in to her eyes, he could she as she struggled to remain cross with him. Slowly he moved to whisper in her ear, allowing his lips to softly brush her cheek as he did so, listening to her sharp intake of breath.

"I don't know what it is you plan to do, but I know I have the perfect apology, if you are willing to accept it," as he finished speaking he gently nibbled her ear as he pulled away. Looking down at her, he noticed Pen's eyes were closed. He couldn't help but smile.

As she slowly opened her eyes, he saw the mix of anger pooled with lust. It was enough of a sign for him to push against her, kissing her deeply as he buried his fingers into her hair.

The elevator pinged; signally the doors were to open. Derek pulled away, silently. Leaving Pen standing stunned in the corner. With a grin like the preverbal Cheshire cake, Derek made his way to his car; things could really get interesting when they got home.

. . . .

Penelope stood there, opened mouth. How could he do that? How could he just waltz right up to her, skip under her defences and take her breath away? How?

Well if he thought he was forgiven, he had another think coming. He would have to do much better than that.

. . . .

Maybe that wasn't what you were expecting from the prompt, but hopefully it still counts. More soon I promise.