AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! This is such a fun story to write... Here is the next prompts: sour milk and cabin...

Chapter 3

Speeding down the highway, Derek drove past the city limits. He was muttering under his breath and scowling fiercely. The past two days had been a mix of epic highs and lows: his sister's accident, finding out Cindy was alive, disappointing his family, finding the perpetrator that had Cindy, finding Cindy herself, finding the children held hostage, and finding Cindy's son, all topped off with a warm Garcia hug when he had needed it the most.

He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he just wanted a warm, comfortable, preferably clean bed and a good ten hours of sleep.

He'd be lucky if he got four.

"A hotel in the seedier part of town," Derek grumbled to himself. Was that man crazy? Derek grew up in Chicago; he knew what the seedier parts of town held. It had been damned rough, violent, and noisy back then, and unfortunately, not much had changed in the many years since he'd lived there. That was not something he would subject his Baby Girl to. Not ever. Hell, no. He wanted to rip the tie off of that stocky manager and stuff it down his throat for even suggesting such a thing. She wasn't the type that would do well there.

Couldn't that man tell she was a sweet angel, fallen from heaven? Because that was exactly what she'd been for him tonight.

"What did you say?" his personal guardian angel asked, interrupting his thoughts. He saw her warm smile, the thoughtful tilt to her head, and he couldn't help but return it.

"Nothing, babycakes," he said. "Just talking to myself."

He couldn't even remember what he was grumbling about, to tell the truth. She had that way about her, this way of making everything all right, even when it wasn't. He didn't think about being anything else but being Derek Morgan, knew he didn't need to change a thing or do anything special. When she was around, he just…breathed.

She nodded and then yawned hugely. "Okay, shug. Are we almost there? Wherever there is?"

He grinned, unable to resist a tease. "It's bugging you to not know where we're going."

She rolled her eyes. "It is true that I prefer to know the route of navigation whenever I enter a starship. However, I trust you."

"Well, thank you," he said with mock humility, still grinning at her. "We have about another half hour drive."

"Another?" She gave a low whistle. "D, we've been driving for a good half hour already."

He winced. "I know, angel, but I've been in this town, and I thought you'd prefer a place we didn't have to rent by the hour."

Her eyes widened, and then she gave him an arched look. "And how would you know about those rooms?"

"I was a cop, silly girl," he answered, grinning. "I arrested a lot of people in those motels."

She began to giggle. "Killjoy."

He bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing. "Just doin' my job."

"I bet they were kind of fun and interesting, those motels," she said, and then added, "in a creepy, John Waters movie kind of way."

"Nothin' fun about a crack motel, Baby Girl."

"I don't know; that could be fun. Colorful clientele…and I bet they have those coin operated jiggly beds and all funky shag carpeting."

"That," he replied, "and bedbugs and gunshot holes in the walls."

Penelope shuddered. "Ooh. Yes. Not fun."

"I thought you'd see it my way."

She started scratching her arm, which soon became her upper arm, her chest, and her neck. She was squirming in her seat as she tried to reach her back.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked, chuckling.

"You mentioned bedbugs!"

"So?"

"I can't stop itching!" she huffed.

"It's psychosomatic, baby gi-"

"I know it's psychosomatic," she snapped, "but dang it, that doesn't stop the itch!"

He shook his head. "Crazy woman. Lean forward."

Penelope did as he bid, and he reached over, starting to lightly scratch her back. He moved over her upper shoulders and then the middle of her back.

"Ooooh," she moaned happily. "That's perfect."

Derek started scratching and rubbing a bit lower to the sweet, sexy curve of her spine. She had just the right amount of sway in the small of her back that lead to a nicely rounded bottom. He'd been working so damn much, it had been awhile since he'd caressed curves like that. He let his fingers trail lower, just to the top of her hips, prior to catching himself in his daydream.

Shit. He hadn't let himself drift off like that for ages. He knew better than that—especially with this particular girl. She was his "bestie", like she always said, and that was it.

"Better?" he murmured huskily, and then cleared his throat.

"Much. Thank you." She sat back and tossed her hair back over her shoulders, a satisfied look on her face.

"We're hitting some travel cabins south of the city," he said, changing the subject before he became even more pissed at his train of thoughts. "We should be there pretty soon."

"How did you know about these?" she asked.

"When I was a kid, my mom couldn't always afford to take us on vacations, so she'd take us here. It was like having a cabin to go to," he answered. "They're old, but they're clean and quiet."

"That's a definite plus," she said.

"There's a nice stream. We might be able to see it in the moonlight tonight," he said hopefully, and then internally cursed himself again. He didn't need to be thinking about moonlight. Not with this woman.

A smile curved her lips, and she closed her eyes. "Sounds uberly wonderful."

Derek continued to drive, his thoughts completely on the sleeping woman next to him, and for once, he didn't stop himself from dreaming about more. He thought about how much he loved having her in his life. She was integral to his happiness, and he was to hers. He knew it. He really felt they belonged together—and not just in the extraordinary friendship way that put her boyfriend in counseling. He wanted her for real, all of her.

What he wanted was her heart.

Shaking his head at his masochistic thoughts—he'd been down that road with her before with nothing but heartache to show for it—he reached down for his coffee she'd brought him earlier and took a sip. A second later, he pulled a face, fighting spitting it out. Grimacing, he swallowed and then smacked his lips unpleasantly. Soy latte. He must've grabbed her cup instead. Soy lattes always tasted like sour milk to him, even with the hideous amount of sweet she tossed in her cup. He replaced her cup and reached for his, slugging down the rest of his plain Americano.

After a groggy thirty miles more, Derek pulled into the travel cabins and saw the vacancy light and how they bragged about having Color TV. It was old as sin, but it was still a good place. He could tell by the well maintained parking lot and clean, litter-free grounds.

"We're here, sweetheart," he said, touching her shoulder to wake her.

She woke slowly, smiling and then stretching her arms over her head.

As he stepped out, he felt his leg stiffen up. He'd banged it yesterday against the ground when he'd tackled the UnSub. He'd been sitting too much today; he knew it, and his right knee that he injured back in college was telling him so, too.

"You okay, angelfish?" Penelope asked, stepping to his side of the car.

He smiled at her. "I'm fine, baby. Let's go check in."