The result of watching 'Exit Wounds' yet again…

"What do you mean you didn't bring your go-bag?" Derek asked as he pulled a pair of green and blue plaid pajama bottoms and a slightly worn, gray t-shirt out of his black duffel. He was standing beside his bed, and Penelope was standing on the opposite side of hers allowing them to face each other. "You're always supposed to have your go bag."

"No, you're always supposed to have your go bag," Penelope reminded him patiently. "I'm always supposed to be surrounded by all things electronic."

When Derek lifted a suggestive brow, Penelope began to blush. "At work," she clarified.

"No big girl toys in the nightstand?" he teased.

Unfortunately, Penelope felt her blush deepen. "I—it—you—" she sputtered. "I just watched a man die," she reminded him.

Derek winced, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry, Baby Girl," he said tenderly.

Penelope immediately felt guilty for using what had happened earlier to get her out of her current predicament with Derek. "It's not your fault," she said softly, looking up just in time to take a t-shirt to the face. "What's this?" she asked, picking it up off her mattress. She could make out his masculine scent; the woodsy aroma of his cologne teased her nostrils.

"Pajama's," he answered.

"Your pajamas," she said, tossing it back. "I'm not gonna take your pajama's."

He picked up the t-shirt and made his way to her side. "Yes, you are," he insisted softly.

She turned to face him. "Derek—"

"You're gonna have to wear those clothes tomorrow," he interrupted. "I know you. That's damn near going to kill you." He grinned wryly. "If you have to sleep in them too, I'm not sure you'll survive."

Penelope felt a slow grin make its way across her tired face. "You do know me," she said in wonderment. It never failed to amaze her how her best friend always knew just what she needed.

He held his t-shirt out to her and she took it, then lifted herself up on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, looking down at her. He couldn't resist lifting a hand to her cheek; her eyes closed as she turned into his touch.

"Just for being you."

Derek couldn't hold back a chuckle when Penelope opened the bathroom door, peeked out, and then, yanking his t-shirt down as far it could go, ran across the room and practically dove beneath her covers. "I've seen legs before, Penelope," he assured her.

She turned to him, grinning as she removed her glasses and put them on the nightstand. "Not these ones, Hot Stuff," she told him. "These rockin' babies would be seared into your brain forever."

Of that, Derek Morgan had no doubt. He nearly groaned when Penelope yawned, lifting her arms above her head to stretch. When she leaned back a little, his t-shirt, already snug across on her breasts, clung to her luscious curves. His mouth watered at the sight.

This was going to be a long night.

If she wasn't still so broken up about it, he'd have given her a good dressing down. She'd put herself at risk out there, completely thrown caution to the wind when she'd run toward the victim. Thoughts of what could have happened if the UnSub had still been lurking in the shadows tormented him. He shuddered at the notion of losing her.

"You OK?" she asked, as she pulled her covers up to her chin and settled in for the night.

"Just a chill," he lied.

"That down comforter will keep you warm," she informed him. "Mine is working like a charm."

Maybe…but Derek could think of much more entertaining ways to make his body temperature rise. He sighed. If he got that damn shirt back after tonight, he was never washing it again. Not after the way it hugged that body.

"Good night, Derek," Penelope said as her eyes closed, her speech slightly slurred from exhaustion.

"Night, Baby Girl."