A/N: This is my Gift fic for the 2013 Christmas Fic Gift Exchange to Evgrrl09. Just Derek/Penelope romantic holiday fluff with a little bit of angst along for the ride. Hope you like it! Happy Holidays!

Love,

Seds

"This isn't looking good, baby girl."

Derek Morgan's muscular frame was silhouetted in the picture window of his living room, a breathtaking sight under any circumstances, but especially so on this day. It was the first day Penelope Garcia was spending in Derek's house as an official resident, not just a guest, and the realization that she could look up and see the outline of his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and perfectly sculpted rear end at any time in the course of her normal existence filled her heart and made her giggle.

Derek turned to bestow an uncertain frown upon her. "What's so funny? See that white stuff coming down out there? This could mean our flight gets cancelled. We might not make it to Chicago until after New Year's."

"Oh, babe, I wasn't laughing about that." Penelope got up and went to wrap her arms around Derek's waist, pressing her body against his and squeezing him tightly; his temperature always ran a degree or two warmer than her own and snuggling into the heat of his skin seemed to ward off the frigid air hanging heavily on the other side of the glass. "I was just thinking about all the times I got goosebumps catching a glimpse of you from afar. Now I can look at you any old time I want, in the comfort of my own living room. That's better than a giant plasma-screen TV with 3-D!"

Derek chuckled and turned up her face with a finger under her chin. "Hey, now—cut that out. You make me feel like a piece of meat." His voice rumbled against her chest and made her shiver.

"More like a piece of fine art," Penelope quipped, sliding her hands under his shirt and running soft palms along Derek's silky, well-muscled back. "You work your ass off to stay in tip-top condition—I just want you to know how much I appreciate the results."

Derek looked down, his eyes seeking Penelope's, and a soft smile quirked at his lips. "What I should have said is, you make me feel like a million bucks." He pulled her closer, leaned down enough to capture her lips with his, and kissed her deeply. He then pulled back and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. "I swear, girl, you give me the strength to keep on living. But, I don't know if even you'll be strong enough to save me if I have to call my mama to tell her that we're not going to make it to her house for Christmas Eve."

"Oh, pfft," Penelope scoffed. "You know, for a big tough G-man, you sure do worry a lot. This is just a little flurry—it'll be fine! Now, come on. You promised to help me decorate our very first Christmas tree together, and those pine needles aren't going to stay put forever."

"No kidding. It's going to be like a forest floor in here before too long. I can't believe you wouldn't let me just get a fake tree."

"No way, mister! No way our first tree was going to be plastic. It's got to be real, like our love." Penelope smirked cheekily, and then gestured at the fireplace. "It's super-cold in here—would you build us a fire? I'll go fetch the ornaments."

Derek got a teasing look on his face. "I will, if you'll make hot chocolate, too."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "So, I'm supposed to do two things at once? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not blessed with super powers. Not that kind, anyway."

"Oh, yes, you are, you prove it every day. And, anyway, hot chocolate-making and ornament-fetching just barely equal hefting firewood and coaxing tiny flames into a roaring fire—that's a skill I've perfected over the years, which means I'm a specialist and deserve a little respect."

"I spent two hours in Christmas rush-hour traffic to hunt and gather the perfect fashion accessories for our naked tree, you don't think that's a highly-developed skill?" Penelope demanded, standing indignantly with her hands on her hips.

Derek laughed as he got the firewood positioned, and then he lit the kindling with a match. "All right, all right, tell you what—you get the ornaments, I'll make the chocolate, and then we'll cuddle on the couch for a while before we start decorating."

"Well, that sounds pretty good." Penelope stood there for a moment, brows knit in thought. Then she added, "Why do I feel like you just put something over on me?"

"Not at all, baby. I just don't want to rush through something as fun as hanging breakable little objects all over a prickly pine tree. We have to take a moment—or, maybe even a couple of hours—to savor it..." Derek stood up, slapped his hands together to clean them, and headed to the kitchen. Penelope watched him go, and then her eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute!" she called after him, aggrieved. "There's a game on, isn't there?"

"Can't hear you! Making chocolate!"

Penelope's lips twisted into mock disgust and she shook her head before going into the kitchen to help.

After they downed the last of their chocolate, Derek went back to staring out the window. He had his arms crossed and his head thrown back in a stance of hopeless defiance. "Your 'little flurry' is now a full-blown snowstorm, baby girl." He turned to see Penelope coming out of the bathroom with a dismayed expression on her face, a sad sight in direct counterpoint to the cheerful red Christmas sweater she was wearing.

Derek's phone went off. He punched a few buttons, and Penelope could hear his sigh from across the room. "What is it, sweetie?" she asked.

"Shit. I just got a text—all flights out tomorrow are cancelled."

"Oh, no! That's awful," she said, dismayed.

"Why'd you let this happen, hm? I thought you liked me." Derek held an arm out and Penelope hastily zipped over to Derek's side and slipped under it, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his chest.

"It wasn't me! I love you. Oh, this is terrible. Your mother's going to be so disappointed."

"Yeah. I guess I better call her—" Just then, Derek's phone rang in his hand. He sighed again as he punched "talk."

"Oh, well, no need. This is her calling me. Hi, Mom!" Derek walked over to the couch and sat down; Penelope could hear his mother's voice perfectly well, even though the phone was not on the "speaker" setting.

Derek didn't say much beyond, "I know. I know. Me, too," for quite a while. The voice on the other end became progressively more distressed and then Derek interjected with, "No, Mom! You are not postponing Christmas! It's not fair to Des and Sarah and the rest of the family. Pen and I will make it there a little later, maybe next week, that's all. Well... it might be after New Year's, depending on work. Yes, we will, Mom. Yes, we will. We will, I promise! It'll be fine. Yes, I swear. I swear on a stack of Bibles you are going to get to meet Penelope before we have to put you in an old folks home. Now, just relax and focus on everything else you have to do, and know I'll be home for Christmas—if only in my dreams... Yeah, like the song, exactly." The tone of slight impatience in Derek's voice softened and faded, and watching his face go from near-exasperation to a look of tenderness and sorrow nearly broke Penelope's heart.

"I miss you too, Momma. I know, it's been a long time... But, we'll be there before you know it, for real. Just... know I'm thinking of you, and Des and Sarah and everybody. Wish I could be there. Yeah. Okay. I love you. Bye." Derek clicked off and sat staring at the floor.

Penelope came over and sat next to him. "Oh, honey. She was pretty upset, huh?"

"Yeah."

Penelope smiled softly. "So are you."

Derek gave a slight laugh. "That obvious, huh?"

"Hey, I just know my stud-muffin. You miss your family and you want to be with them for the holidays. I totally understand that."

Derek put a hand on the back of her neck and gave her a gentle squeeze. She tipped her head back into his touch, and now Derek chuckled.

"You totally get me, baby. It's incredible—you always understand."

Penelope shifted and rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, I remember what Christmas was like when I was a kid. When... everybody was still around. That's special. You can't miss out on a thing like that if you have a choice. You never know when... when things'll change."

"You're so damn right about that. I remember when my dad was still alive... He loved the holidays. I'd give anything to have one of those Christmases again." The somber thought hung in the air for a moment and then Derek gave her a hug. "All right, that's enough of that. We can't change the weather and we can't make airplanes capable of flying through sheets of ice, but we can make our first Christmas together just as special and wonderful as the ones we remember from when we were kids. Well, almost. Come on—where are those decorations? Let's get that sticky ol' pine tree of ours lookin' good." Derek stood up and held out his hands, a big grin on his face.

"What about the game?" Penelope swiped a tear off of her cheek before taking his hands and rising to her feet.

"That, I can DVR." Derek pulled her to him and tipped up her face so he could look into her eyes. "But I can't record the smell of pine needles. Or, the way your lips feel against mine. I can't record how my heart fills up, knowing we belong together and that you want to live with me, and share your life with me." He kissed her tenderly, and Penelope got that familiar thank-God-he's-holding-me-'cause-my-knees-are-about-to-give-out feeling she always got when he kissed her. Derek leaned back, a gentle smile on his face.

"Don't get me wrong, I want to see my mom and my sisters and all the relatives back in Chicago. But, right here, right now—I'm home."

"Derek..." Penelope whispered. It was hard to talk, but she added, "Me, too. I'm home. I'm finally home for Christmas, Derek—and it's not a dream this time. It's real."

Derek nodded and turned toward the tree. Penelope noticed him swipe at his eyes, too. "Real like that damn tree," he said in a slight rasp. He cleared his throat and now his voice was warm and teasing. "Listen, sugarplum, do you know how hard it is to get pine sap out of cashmere? And, I bet Clooney's going to pee on it! But, baby girl always knows best, doesn't she? Now, I hope you're wearing slippers 'cause I can guarantee you one of us is going to break something, and I'll be damned if I have to get out in this freakin' blizzard to take you to the emergency room with glass in your foot! Oh, and I better take some Claritin in case I'm allergic, all I need is a sinus infection just in time for Christmas dinner, and..."

Derek cheerfully went on grousing as he got out his camera and started officially documenting the very first Morgan-Garcia Christmas, ever.

And, Penelope put Christmas carols on the stereo, and cleared away the hot chocolate mugs before laying out carefully chosen ornaments, garland, lights, and a star.

And, after one of the red glass globes was dropped and subsequently swept up, after the tree was finished and photos taken, after Clooney had been brought in from the back bedroom to sniff around the new addition to the decor and got yelled at—No, Clooney! Do not even think about it!—when he started to raise his leg... After all was said and done, Penelope and Derek stood with their arms around each other, looking at the twinkling lights, and they hummed along to old familiar songs and thought of long-ago voices and faces, and for a moment, they were there, everyone was there, together.

At home.