AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Sorry I am a day late posting, but I was otherwise occupied—yesterday was my Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary with my own Morgan!... Here is prompt number two—a plunger!

Chapter Two

Penelope had seriously been teasing when she'd mentioned that they'd get to the hotel and they'd end up sharing a bed. That would've been kind of funny, and she wouldn't have minded bunking with Morgan. Not for dirty, sweaty fun—although that would probably be exceptional, too—but for actual sleep. As she glanced over at him from the ride to the hotel, he'd looked both exhausted and relaxed, like he hadn't really slept in days. Her guess was that he hadn't.

Sharing a room with Derek was never a hardship. He was a consummate gentleman; he'd even taken the floor in Alaska, even after she'd said he could sleep on the bed with her...

She started shaking her head as he fluffed his pillow and then tossed it on the floor.

"You are not going to sleep there, are you?" she asked, looking over the top of her glasses at him. She was already in her PJs, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. He'd seen her at her worst, right after she'd been shot; she didn't need to put on airs for Morgan.

He had a look of grim determination on his face, jaw set, brow lowered just a bit. "Yes, ma'am, I am."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It's a double bed, angelfish. Double. Ergo, two."

Tugging off his shirt and momentarily silencing her, he dropped his pants next and then lowered himself to the floor far more gracefully than she would've plopped down there.

She patted the bed and looked over the edge where he was laying. "Cozy..."

"No." He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

She huffed, rather hurt. "I don't take up that much room."

He opened one eye and stared up at her. "Is that what you think this is about?"

Frowning, she groused, "What is it about, if it isn't that?"

This time, he huffed. "It's about a man and a woman sharing a bed, regardless of how good their friendship is. You don't play with fire; someone will get burned."

Her eyes were wide, and it was a while before she blinked. "You? Me?" She started to giggle. "D... Come on! That's silly!"

Derek rolled to his side away from her. "Woman, just leave it alone."

She'd wondered about his reaction for a while after that, putting dreamy thoughts that simply weren't true to it, but then life happened. Even later that same night, she'd woken hours later to do research, and had seen that horrible murder. He'd held her in bed after that—which had been understandable; she was a wreck—but she'd woken to him on the floor in his spot yet again.

Looking over at him again, she saw that his eyes were closed. Years ago, someone had told her that when someone fell asleep in your car, it meant they trusted you. She felt a lump rise in her throat; trust didn't come easy to Derek, and she knew deep down, she had his trust. She'd never betray that trust or his love that he had given her so freely over the years.

As she pulled the rental car under the overhead canopy of the chain motel she was staying at, the sweet thoughts she was thinking were overrode by a smell so foul, it made her eyes water. She placed a hand over her nose and mouth to protect herself and then coughed.

Derek woke, sniffed the air, and then shook his head. "Phew!"

Yeah, phew just about summed it up...

A second later, he gave her an odd look. "Baby... You feeling okay?"

"Morgan, that is not me," she snapped. "I have never let anything that foul escape my person!"

He smiled and winced at the same time. "Even in college after an all-nighter with beans burritos and tequila shots?"

"No!" She glowered at him. What was it about men that made them somewhat proud of their burps and farts?

Ignoring her, he shuddered and said, "That brings back some bad memories."

The scent wafted up again, making her gag. "Derek, this is awful. I'm afraid to open the door."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some Kleenex® and handed her one. He covered his mouth and nose and then opened the door. "Come on, my delicate princess... Let's go in."

Growling, she did the same thing and followed him into the hotel. The scent got exponentially worse once they opened the hotel door—so much so, it caused them to halt in their tracks.

Morgan put a hand in front of her. "Watch your step."

The carpet inside the hotel was wet and dark, and the lobby was teaming with people. There were some men in gas masks, carrying the tricks of the trade—hoses, buckets, and mops. Two other men were pushing carpet cleaning machines. A lone man followed carrying what seemed to be the most important thing: A plunger.

Too little, too late, Penelope thought sadly.

Derek confirmed her suspicions. "That plunger ain't gonna cut it for this," Derek said, shaking his head.

"Hello," a nasal sounding man said from behind them.

Penelope turned and saw the hotel manager, who was pale and had tissue stuck up his sizable schnoz. The poor man looked beyond frazzled; she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"You have reservations for the evening?" he asked.

"I got reservations about us staying here," Derek quipped, which made her smile underneath her tissue.

"Yes, we did," Penelope answered.

"I am so sorry, but you will have to wait. We had a sewer malfunction," Ira Farnsworth—that's what his name tag said—answered. "We anticipate that this will be cleaned up soon, and—"

The look Derek gave the manager silenced him. "There is no way in hell this mess is going to be cleaned up before Wednesday, maybe Thursday."

"We're working on it nonstop, sir."

Penelope looked hopeful. "Maybe it'll work?"

"Baby, they don't have to just clean up the shit. They have to sanitize it to make it habitable for humans again," he explained. "That takes time and far more manpower than he's got working right now. So..." He looked at poor Mr. Farnsworth again. "Where is alternate rooming?"

The man started to sweat, big visible beads. "There isn't any."

"In your chain?" Penelope asked.

He shook his head. "In Chicago. There's numerous conventions in town. That is why I hesitated calling to tell you to get different lodging. It will be rather impossible."

Derek ran a hand over his face, gagged, and then put the napkin back over his mouth and nose. "Damn."

"Sir, we are trying our best. I have the most people on this that I could get, you must believe me, and—"

"It's okay, Mr. Farnsworth," Penelope said, watching the man relax. For some reason, she was okay with this. Everything always ended up all right when she was with Morgan.

"Penelope, it's not okay!" Derek growled, and the man immediately stiffened.

"It is," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "We'll find something somewhere."

Derek shook his head. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Of course," she said, looking over at the manager, "we will have our money refunded and have a free stay once this is done, correct?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"Is there anywhere that could have a room?" Derek snapped.

"Y-Yes, sir," the man said, obviously a touch flustered still. "There's a few motels in a seedier part of town that may have openings..."

Shaking his head again like he'd had enough, Derek reached for her hand and said, "P, I need the keys. I know right where we're going."