AN: Hi everyone! The moment I saw "Restoration", this popped into my head. It was something I could see happening, something that could've been helpful. So, here is my hot and sweet episode continuation (In two parts, if I write the steamy scene...which I probably will!)
Chapter 1
The moment those elevator doors opened, Derek knew exactly what he was going to see and hear.
"Did you bring it? Did you bring it?"
He wasn't disappointed. His overly exuberant Baby Girl stood there, the glow of anticipation sparkling in her sherry brown eyes. A pink flush colored her fair cheeks, and her plump bottom lip was caught enticingly between her teeth as she tried to contain her excitement. With expectancy, she wrung her bejeweled hands together, her rings occasionally flashing under the artificial fluorescent lights.
Teasing her, he smiled, but shook his head slightly. Then, with a flourish like the head waiter at Chez Madame, he brandished the treasure he'd been hiding behind his back.
"Ohhh!" she cried, clapping her hands and bouncing happily as she stared lustfully at the dish of his momma's peach cobbler. "You brought it!"
Derek held the cobbler in one arm as he slid the other arm behind her shoulders. "Hell, yes, I did. Your man would never let you down."
Penelope melted into his side. "Of course you wouldn't."
It was the world's most perfect fit for him. No one melded into his contours quite like she did. Like she was carved from his side, together they were one person. It was like she was made for him. She made him feel whole. He needed to feel whole after today. He'd taken a shower at his mother's house, had been surrounded and hugged by his family and the friends who had stopped by to wish him well, but he still felt unclean...tainted...dirty.
Carl Buford.
God, he hated that sonofabitch. The devil incarnate. He'd said he was a man of religion, but hell, no! Derek knew many good, honorable Muslim people of faith, and Buford had not been one of them, no matter what he'd called himself. Few people ever got under his skin, but that bastard managed to crawl under and plant a seed with the shake of his hand.
The look on his face...he didn't know if he'd ever get that look Carl Buford had worn on his face as he touched him.
You have always been special, Derek...
"D?" Penelope asked, breaking him from his thoughts. "Are you okay, sweetheart? You shuddered like you got the chills."
He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "Yeah, baby. I'm good."
Rossi popped his head out of the conference room and shot them a pointed look. "Excuse me? Are you done schmoozing? We'd like some cobbler."
Derek gave Penelope a soft, cajoling smile. "Honey...are you willing to share? Momma made it for you."
She heaved a long-suffering, dramatic sigh. "If I must."
Derek chuckled as Penelope led the way into the conference room.
Penelope knew without a doubt that things definitely weren't all right. Derek had said he was good, but the sparkle that was always present was dimmed in his eyes. Not everyone would notice—he hid his emotions well—but she did. He joined in with his fellow profilers, joking and teasing, as they dished out healthy portions of Fran Morgan's muy delicioso cobbler.
"Morgan?" Blake asked as Derek handed her peachy piece. "Did you really say ten years old for your first kiss?"
"Yes, I did." Derek paused, a secret smile curving his lips. "It was by the little green store on the corner with Susie Jackson."
JJ snickered. "Isn't that a little young?"
He grinned over at JJ. "We players like to start early."
"Ex players," Penelope corrected, which earned her a squeeze and a kiss.
"I don't think it's that early," Rossi remarked, just before spooning an enormous peach into his mouth, causing some juice to roll on his goatee.
"Um, actually, it is," Reid piped in, waiting for his slice of cobbler. "According to U.S. statistics, the average age for a first kiss is fourteen."
"It would seem early to you, kid," Derek teased. "How old were you? Twenty-five?"
"At least mine was with a well-known starlet," he responded quickly.
"Touche," Derek replied, winking at Reid.
"I was sixteen," Hotch said, and then he gave a hint of a smile. "With Haley Ann Brooks."
"Aww," Penelope said. "That's sweet, boss man."
"How old were you, Baby Girl?" Derek asked, and then added with mock seriousness, "And do I have to call him out?"
Penelope giggled. "I was twelve. It didn't work the first time."
Rossi arched a brow. "Really?"
She nodded. "I'd watched too many romantic movies when I was younger."
"Still do," JJ taunted.
Penelope wrinkled her nose in a mock serious manner at her best girlfriend, and then focused her attention back on the group. "So when we went to kiss each other, I closed my eyes and ended up kissing his nostrils instead."
With a wink, Derek said, "Definitely don't need to call him out."
Taking his empty plate, she put hers and his on the table and then sat down, scootching herself close to him. "No, lover, you don't."
As everyone else talked, Derek looped an arm around her and pulled her frame closer, so tightly there wasn't an inch of room between them, lowering his head to hers. For a moment, he breathed in her scent, taking a deep breath, as if he were absorbing her warmth. Laying his cheek against her head, just as slowly, he released that breath.
A cleansing breath.
Something was definitely wrong.
Yet, she knew Derek, knew he wouldn't tell her, wouldn't bother her with whatever was troubling him. He hadn't before they'd started dating, and he wouldn't now...unless she made him. Like a Tootsie Roll pop, she had to keep digging until she got to his center, but the center was always the best part.
She continued to worry, and think, until everyone else left, leaving the two of them the last to go. She decided to be direct and shoot from the hip.
"Angelfish...what happened in Chicago?"
This time, he tried to repress the slight shudder that wracked through him. "Honey, nothing you gotta worry your beautiful head about."
"Yes, I do," she said softly. " It's worrying you."
"Baby, I'm fine."
"No, sweet cheeks, you're not."
He frowned at her. "Woman—"
"Man," she interrupted, not giving an inch.
That made him smile. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
She shook her head. "Nope," she answered, saying the word and popping the p as she did so.
He chuckled and sighed. "Okay...you win. It's about Buford."
"Satan's janitor?" she replied sweetly.
He smiled again, but briefly, which made her comment worth it in her book. "The very same. You know I had to see him again."
"Yes, angelfish," she replied sadly. She would've said more, but the look on his face said he needed to continue.
"He gave us those names...the ones you looked up for me."
Briefly, Penelope let the list of names—many, many names—roll through her head, all Buford's victims. This time, she was the one that shuddered as she nodded.
"The names...they came with a price," Derek continued, clouds of hurt and pain rolling in his eyes, and for a moment, she was very afraid.
What had that bastard done to her Derek?
"A handshake... It was a handshake. A simple handshake." He closed his eyes, like he was trying to regain control, and then opened them and huffed out his breath. "Damn it."
"Derek," she whispered, uncertain on what to say, how to react. His eyes were somehow young, wild, hurt. Like the boy he'd been instead of the man he was now. It broke her heart to see him that way.
"Fuck," he swore under his breath. "It shouldn't get to me this much, P. The man is dead. He's dead..."
But you're still alive, she thought to herself, and so is the hurt. You may not feel alive, but you are. You have joy and love and passion and—
It was then that it hit her, the way to help him...by reminding him of all those things in the best way she could think of.
"I'm sorry, love bug," she murmured softly. "That really must've been awful."
"It was," he answered.
He watched her with curiosity as she stood and took a step closer to him and then sat in his lap. For a second, she doubted herself, her idea, but she drew courage from her love for him.
She looped her arms around his neck. "I know this is terrible to say, but I have to say it. I'm glad he's gone."
"Happens a lot to his kind in prison," he said, and although the conversation hadn't shifted, Derek's posture had. He was more relaxed, his arms lazily looped around her middle to hold her in place on his lap. It was like he had something far better to concentrate on—which he did!
"He got his just desserts?" she said, tracing his ear with her finger.
Derek chuckled and shook his head at her antics. "Yeah, he did."
"Speaking of desserts... how am I ever going to repay you for remembering that treat for this very worthy girl?" she cooed enticingly.
He arched his brow in surprise, and then a slow smile curved his lips. "Hmm. I may have to think about that."
"Money?" she teased. "Diamonds? Rubies?"
"I was thinking an even trade." Leaning upward, he tugged her down to kiss her lightly and then said, "Something like sweetness for sweetness...peaches for peaches."
Penelope drew in an excited breath. It was his most forward suggestion ever. They were trying to take it slow, not rush things. The first date had ended up lasting twenty-four hours in the sack, making up for eight years of pent-up longing. However, they'd been holding off since—two agonizing weeks—trying to simply date, waiting for the opportune moment to make love again...
She let the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding out, slowly smiling as she did so. "I definitely like that trade..."
