AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Life has been positively insane, so I haven't had a chance to answer, but I promise I will answer as always. Also, I put out a one shot for the Halloween season (It's a David Rossi vs. Zombies story that features the whole team...who can resist that?! Tee hee). Go read it and let me know what you think!

Chapter 21

"P'nelopeeeee! The pest is here for you again!"

Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head at Emily Prentiss as she shouted up the stairs of Theta Epsilon. She then turned and grinned at him before opening her book and burying her face in it, as if he wasn't even in the room.

Emily Prentiss knew how to dismiss a person.

Frankly, he couldn't argue with Prentiss about him being a pest. Since that wonderful night his baby girl had come over to finish her drawing—he never did get to see that picture when it was finished!—they'd been together nonstop. He walked her to class, they ate lunch together, they had dinner together whenever they could, and they'd "study" in his room. The only times they were apart were when he worked, when they had class, and when they slept.

He missed her when they were apart.

"Good book?" he asked the brunette.

Prentiss looked very badass. She was in a Metallica shirt that said, "And Justice for All..." and ripped jeans with enough safety pins fastened to them to set off a metal detector.

"Yeah," she answered, looking up from the book.

Derek noticed she had on thick black eyeliner that obscured rather nice, earnest-looking brown eyes. He wondered if that whole Goth persona was hiding something. The guys next door thought she was a stoner, and Biffy had hinted she had the means to get the drugs, too—rich relatives or something.

It didn't matter. Derek hadn't believed it then, and looking at her clear, intelligent eyes, he didn't believe it now. Besides, Penelope had said Emily was a nice girl, and Prentiss had always been rather nice to him in the criminology classes they shared.

He'd never believed Carlson or Biffy before; he certainly wasn't going to start now.

Resolved to make a new friend, he asked, "Who's it by?"

She arched a brow at him, like she was skeptical as to why he'd want to talk to her. "Who's what by?"

"Your book," he answered. "It looks interesting."

"Oh, it is." Excitement lit her face, and she smiled sincerely at him, her nearly black lipstick parting and revealing shiny white teeth. "David Rossi. He's a profiler with the FBI."

"Profiler," Derek said in question, frowning a little in concentration. "That's the kind of new science they use to get into the minds of criminals, right?"

'Yeah, but they call the criminals Unknown Subjects," she corrected.

He wondered why they were unknown if they knew the person, but he didn't ask. Instead, he continued on his original bent.

"Learning anything?"

"Always...but I think I got this case." She shrugged. "It's an applied art, profiling, but I study behavior so much, I think I could teach Rossi a thing or two."

He smiled at her. "I don't doubt that, Prentiss."

"Ready to go?" Penelope asked, bouncing down the stairs. She looked adorable, in a bright blue top with something printed on it, a pair of light blue jean shorts, and a headband with pink and blue stars that matched perfectly. As she stepped closer, he could see the little pink and red cherries in the print on her shirt.

She looked far more delicious than those cherries...

Derek tugged her into his arms and planted a kiss on her, one that should've been much less passionate than it was. It had been a few hours, and he missed her. In any case, he couldn't help himself; she fired him up and touched his senses on every level. As he was about to shift her, to make the kiss even deeper, Prentiss's dulcet tones rang out.

"Eww. Get a room," she said flatly and then quickly added, "Another room. Not ours, Penelope. That would be...eww." She shuddered. "Just eww."

"Sorry, Em," Penelope said softly.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide that they were sparkling, proving she wasn't as bothered as she'd pretended to be.

"See ya later, Prentiss," Derek said with a smile, and Penelope covered her mouth while she giggled.

Em waved. "Go have fun, you two."

Derek held the screen door open for Penelope and then slid a possessive arm around her as they descended the stairs. It felt so right to him, having her so close. Damn, he was in love with her. Thoughts of her filled his every waking moment. He wanted her there forever; he couldn't imagine a time without her in his life. He'd never been in love before, and he was falling so hard, it scared him sometimes.

"Where are we going?" she asked sweetly, those big, beautiful eyes of hers clearly visible behind her thick lenses.

Derek truly hadn't thought that far. He simply knew he had an afternoon off work and he wanted to spend it with her. They'd gone to the movies, and she'd watched him play ball with the guys, and they'd been to the park and dinner. They'd gone on walks and to the pub for beers and wings.

"How about the art museum?" he asked, thinking of her likes. She did what he liked so easily and never complained.

A look of surprise swept over her. "The art museum?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging slightly. "Why not?"

"Love bug, you hate the museum," she answered honestly.

"I don't hate it," he said and, knowing he was lying, added, "much."

She laughed. "Baby, you don't have to do it if it isn't your thing."

"And watching football is your kind of thing?" he countered.

"When I get to watch you, my perfect specimen of mocha maleness, in tight pants and a cup that I know from experience is too small?" She grinned lasciviously at him. "Yes, indeedy."

He burst out laughing, but there was no argument for that. He loved to watch her draw—the way she lovingly stroked the paintings she did, how she stuck her tongue out the slightest bit when she was concentrating, how she smiled and flushed with happiness when a drawing was coming together. It was no different for her; his art was on the field.

He tucked her close and kissed the top of her head. "Well, it's time for me to expand my horizons, angel girl. Show me something I'll like."

"Ooh! I can teach you something," she said excitedly.

"Besides, you can show me that statue you thought was me," he teased. "I'm thinking he's one heck of a built Greek god."

"He was," she replied without a hint of artifice. "I picked Adonis, known for his physical beauty."

That made him smile...and blush. "Wow. I'm flattered."

"He's the one that should be flattered," she said honestly. "You got a lot more going on in a certain spot than he does." She glanced downward. "One fig leaf wouldn't cut it."

Derek shook his head and then gave her a quick kiss. "My crazy, dirty girl."

They made it to his bike, and Derek mounted his seat. Penelope climbed on behind him, kissed his cheek, and then snuggled closer to him as they drove off to the museum.

The art museum was a lot of fun, as far as art museums go, in Derek's opinion. Derek didn't really understand what he was looking for—a bowl of rotting fruit was just a bowl of rotting fruit in his mind—but he enjoyed that Penelope was enjoying herself.

It was obvious she was having a blast. Penelope was a good instructor, telling him what to look for in each item and explaining a little about the artists that painted the pictures as they went along. She was animated, too, lively and fun, and she seemed to find something interesting in every piece.

In fact, he started wanting to stump her. Some of the pictures were downright ridiculous, as far as he was concerned.

"Okay, what is this supposed to be?" he asked, seeing three squares, joined together on a white background. It looked like something any four year old could do, and yet, there it was, with a huge price tag on it.

"Ooh," Penelope gushed, smiling when she saw the tag. "This is from an up-and-coming local artist. The white represents purity, the dark sin, and the squares represent pulls on the artist's soul. Each square is the same size, each one equally important, yet intermingled to show they affect him together."

"Ah," he said, his hands on his hips as he stared at it. That was better than just three squares on a canvas. Still, he had questions. "Okay...why squares?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Probably something internal that the artist is experiencing, but she didn't say what it was."

"That's a cop-out."

"Oh, no," she explained. "Not at all. See, this way, we all can apply it to our own lives. Like maybe to a stay-at-home mom, it could be her kids, her spouse, and her home? Or for a businesswoman, it could be her career, her family, and her own time? For me, it's my family, my school, and my relationship with you." She gave the painting a thoughtful look, touching her chin as she pondered, and then she smiled at him brightly. "Something to consider."

Derek's heart skipped a beat. She just put him on the same level as her schooling and her family. The three most important things in her life, and he was one of them. He felt unworthy and honored and pleased.

Unable to find the words to thank her for her love, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly, with everything he had inside him. When he pulled away, she was breathless and blushing.

"Goodness, D," she said, a smile curving her lips. "What was that for?"

"Because."

She giggled. "You need to learn to tone those kisses down, bucko."

He dipped her and then planted a fast, loud smack on her lips. "Like that?"

Looping her arms around his neck, she drawled softly, "You can do a little better than that..."

"My pleasure," he said, helping her to her feet and giving her another kiss, this time making it an appropriate kind of kiss for in public.

He could behave sometimes when he needed to...

"How's that?" he asked, his hands on her waist, itching to dip lower and make this a kiss to light up the museum.

"Mmmm," she said with a soft, sexy smile. "Just right."

He smiled back. "Woman, keep smiling like that, and we'll make use of that sculpture over there."

He pointed at a flat slab that had another flat slab parked under it that two other students were looking at. It resembled a bed—sort of—and it could be of use.

Penelope looked over, grinning, but as he watched her, her expression changed. She looked troubled, unhappy.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Derek glanced over to where she had been looking, to the two girls that were standing there were whispering to each other and laughing. They looked familiar, but he didn't recognize them. Had they said or done something to upset her?

He tipped her chin and made her meet his eyes. "Penelope, did they do something?"

"No," she said quickly, but her cheeks were stained ruddy, signaling that wasn't the whole truth. "It's fine."

"Sweetness, we—"

"Derek, let's just leave this room," she interrupted, reaching for his hand and dragging him out of the room.

Although it went against his better judgment, Derek just let it go. He didn't want to ruin their time by upsetting her, making her talk about what it was that bothered her. Maybe it was something in the art itself? He'd find out about it later.