AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites, lovely people!...Whoo hoo! CM night is here, and just in time I am feeling better...Hopefully the powers that be will cash in on the obvious chemistry of our pair tonight... Now here comes chapter two...

Chapter 2

It was one week into Penelope's forced exile from the one true love of her life...

M&Ms.

Well, that was how she felt that evening. All week, she'd been stellar, not even getting mocha lattes because they had chocolate in them. However now, sitting on her couch on a Friday night, her laptop open to her email, she could feel the craving for chocolate coated goodness rising and taking over.

What was strange was that three hours ago, she wasn't at all interested in eating anything. She was getting ready to go to a fringe art festival based based on Rock and Roll, with artwork by Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead, John Lennon, and a whole bunch of other rock stars. She'd been so excited, she'd barely been able to contain herself the last few hours of work.

Running home, she'd donned her English flag shirt, her distressed denim jacket, and a flouncy, short skirt that sort of looked like Madonna might have worn it back in the Like a Virgin days. She'd done her hair with crimps and curls and had makeup that was flashy and fun. She'd just been fastening on her large hoop earrings when Kevin had called...

"Hello?"

"Ah, ah, ah, chooo!" was the response to her inquiry.

"Kevin?"

"Hi, Pendy," he said, obviously really stuffed up.

Knowing she sounded like she'd won the Nobel prize for asking obvious questions, she said, "Feeling sick, huh?"

"Terrible," he responded. "I'b going to stay in bed all weekend."

Her heart sank, and then curiosity struck. "You didn't sound as sick at work today..."

"I was faking feeling good then," he replied quickly. "Oh, I have to go. I feel another...ah...ah...chooo!"

"Feel better soon," she said.

She heard him blow his nose loudly. "Thanks, Pendy. Bye."

Immediately, she'd known her plans were shot. Em was out of town, JJ was taking Henry to visit her aunt, and Reid had a seminar, so there was no one that could go with her. She'd thought, of course, of asking Morgan, but he would've balked at that kind of thing. Not only that, he was probably out with the hussy du jour he usually dated on Fridays.

She started taking off her carefully thought out ensemble and put on her fuzzy kitty face pajama pants and tank top with a smiley kitty face on it. Then she scrubbed her face clean of its layers of artfully applied makeup and tossed her hair in a scrunchie. After that was settled, she fixed herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, steeped a cup of chamomile tea, took her seat on the couch next to Jupiter, her kitty stuffed animal Morgan had won for her, and then she almost immediately began craving chocolate.

She growled to herself, shutting her laptop and standing up. She paced back and forth, determined not to give up and eat chocolate. She was stronger than that—like a mighty oak in the forest. Nothing was going to make her yield.

However, as time turtled by, her cravings grew worse and worse. She tried eating a celery stick, a piece of cheese, an apple, even a can of peas, because Reid had said they had the same compound as her beloved cocoa plant...but nothing compared to the smooth richness of chocolate that melted on her tongue and calmed her—and unfortunately cursed her, as well.

She paused in her pacing and looked at herself in her bathroom mirror. "You can do this, Garcie. I'm mighty woman; hear me roar! I don't need it. I don't need anything...I can do this."

But a simple chocolate chip would taste so good, the devil on her shoulder, with his milky, dark chocolate voice, said. Just one chip...

"Argh!" she exclaimed, knowing when she'd been beat.

Quickly nabbing her cell from her bedside table, she darted down the stairs, past Mrs. Brown and her poodle making their last potty visit of the night, and called her emergency backup.

Derek was dancing with Tonya, or Tenisha, or something like that with a T, when he felt his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans vibrate. Derek chose to ignore it. After all, the woman was about to place her sweet and ample fanny—he liked his girls a touch on the meaty side—against his denim covered crotch in the club, like just about every other couple in the club was doing.

It had been a rough week. The Unsub they'd chased was even more of an SOB than usual, Prentiss' mother had been hospitalized and Em had understandably flown to be by her side, so they were down an agent, and Garcia, the source of sweetness and light in his world, had been cranky because of her lack of chocolate. He knew it was tacky as hell to let some woman he didn't know fawn all over him and offer more than he'd accept, but he felt he was due for some compassion from somewhere.

She was just about to back into him when he felt the vibration again. Dragging his phone out of his pocket, he saw that it was Garcia. He placed his hands on the woman's hips. "Ah, Tracy?"

Looking over her shoulder with a perturbed look, she said, "I'm Susan."

Whoa...wrong letter...

He held up his phone and gave a sheepish look. "Sorry, I gotta get this."

She harrumphed and said with disdain, "Your loss."

"Yeah, Baby Girl, what's up?" he shouted over the music, heading toward the back exit of the club where the smokers usually hung out. Sure enough, once he reached the doors, he had to wade through a throng of nicotine addicted people to get to a place where he could both breathe and talk.

"Hot Stuff, I am sorry I have to bother you, but I didn't know where else to turn!" she cried.

"Angel girl, slow down," he said, plugging one ear and moving even farther away from the echoing music.

"I feel terrible," she sniffled. "I can hear music in the background, and I know you are having fun getting your groove thang on, and—"

Derek thought about Susan with her mighty ass and the rest of the meat market. It had been a hot and sweaty mob of people that were all after the same thing, and he really wasn't that interested. It was odd to realize he hadn't been having that much fun. Come to think of it, he'd much rather be standing out in a parking lot, talking to Penelope.

Damn, he was getting old!

"Hot Stuff, you there?"

"Yeah, baby," he said, shaking himself out of his thinking. "So, what has you so upset?"

"Chocolate!" she cried so desperately, he didn't dare laugh.

"What about chocolate? Did you accidentally have a chocolate covered raisin?" he asked, testing by teasing lightly.

"No!" she said quickly. "I haven't had any, but now I want to eat a barge full of chocolate. I want stock in Hershey's so I can open a Quantico plant all for me. I want a bunny that poops Cadbury mini eggs, I want—"

"Settle down, sweetheart," he interrupted, smiling despite himself. He opened his car door and climbed in. "What makes you suddenly want all that chocolate?"

She paused for a second, and he could tell she was obviously thinking.

"I...I don't know," she answered, sounding perplexed.

"Well, why don't you go through your night, and then we'll figure out what triggered this," he said reasonably.

"Okay," she said. "I was getting ready to go out to an art show with Kevin. A gallery of abstract rock art that is in town for a couple of weeks."

"Barrel of laughs, there," he teased. Two things he couldn't stand: Kevin and abstract art. Both were totally useless to his existence.

She snickered. "I so knew you were going to say that."

"How'd you know that?"

"I know you, sweet pea," she said back confidently.

He wasn't going to argue that; she did.

"Anyway, what happened next?" he asked, leading her to continue.

"Kevin called and canceled," she said sulkily. "He's sick."

"Poor Baby."

"Me or kevin?"

He smiled as he growled, "Garcia..."

"So I slipped on my jammies—"

"Which ones?" he asked. Derek knew her pajamas pretty well; they'd watched tons of movies together over the years.

"The pink ones with the kitties on the bottom and my smiley kitty face tank."

Derek closed his eyes and leaned back against the leather of his seat. What that girl did to a tank top was a thing to behold. "I love that set," he said huskily.

"You do?" she asked, which alerted him that he'd spoken aloud.

He chuckled and answered honestly, "I do. Now, what's next..."

She took a deep breath and then began a story that led to them talking for the next hour and a half on the phone. They veered off, like they always did, on all sorts of other tangents—work, food, her clothes, his sports...Prentiss' mom, even—which was the norm for them whenever they talked.

They talked so long, couples were starting to leave the bar. Sonja—or whatever her name was—left with a short, balding man with an overhanging gut. He snickered to himself. Seemed to be her loss, not his, after all.

When Penelope yawned, he said, "Baby...you still want chocolate?"

She giggled. "No. I just had almost two hours of the sweetest chocolate ever."

"No need to overindulge, huh?"

"No," she said with a laugh, and then murmured, "Thank you, my prince."

"You're welcome, Baby Girl."

They were in synch when they closed their phones, ending the conversation.