It was Wednesday and Penelope was finally over her hangover. She wasn't able to stay up late and get up early anymore. In her early twenties, she could do that--stay out all night drinking and then get up the next day and go to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed. She'd slept until almost noon, and then she'd left Derek's and gone home and slept some more. But at least she hadn't gotten sick. That was the silver lining.

She pulled into the girls' daycare—the team had been called to Kentucky earlier that day—and turned off her vehicle. She walked into the building to get the girls and they came running up to her. "Is daddy gone for a few days?" Millie asked.

"He is," Penelope answered.

Chessie grabbed her jacket off the coat hook that was low enough for the kids to hang their own jackets and shoved her arms in. "Can we go to McDonalds?" she asked.

Penelope grinned. "Are you gonna tell your dad?" she asked.

Chessie shook her head. "Nope."

"Then I guess so," she said.

Chessie nodded. "I want a chicken nugget Happy Meal," she said.

Penelope grabbed Millie's coat and helped her put it on. "Then a chicken nugget Happy Meal you shall have!" she said in an exaggerated tone.

They walked out to her vehicle and Penelope was buckling Millie in when the little girl sighed heavily. "You OK, sweetie?" she asked.

"No," Millie told her.

"What's wrong?" Penelope asked, pushing the little girls' hair away from her face.

"I tell daddy when you take us to McDonalds," she said quietly.

"You do?" Penelope said.

Millie nodded solemnly. "Yes. Daddy said we shouldn't keep secrets from him. So I told him. And I kept that a secret from you," she said. "And I can't do it anymore. That's a lot of secrets for a little girl to keep!" she said dramatically.

Penelope laughed. "That is a lot of secrets for such a little girl to keep."

The little girl began to chew on her lower lip. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.

"No," Penelope said with a smile. "I'm not mad at you. I shouldn't have asked you to lie to him in the first place. I'm sorry."

Millie nodded. "It's OK," she said. "Just don't ask me to do it again."

Penelope struggled to keep a straight face. "I promise," she said, leaning in and giving Millie a kiss on the forehead.

"Can we still go to McDonalds even though Millie can't keep a secret?" Chessie piped up.

Penelope laughed. "Yes, we can still go to McDonalds. But Millie's right. You shouldn't be keeping secrets from your dad, and I shouldn't be asking you to."

Chessie shrugged. "It was kind of fun," she said as Penelope closed the back door.

___

After stopping at her house to pick up her things, they headed to the Morgan's', and then Penelope and the girls ate in the living room while they watched a movie. She liked to think she would be more structured with her own kids, but she knew better. It was hard not to give in when you had two pairs of chocolate colored eyes staring at you, all the hope in the world in them. She probably gave in more than she should, but that was OK. Derek was the one who had to deal with it. The girls were good as gold for her. They usually chose to rebel when he was around. It was funny to watch, really. He tried so hard to deal with it, but he was a man with no woman around for guidance and his approach was comical most of the time. But she had to give the guy an A for effort. He was the most adoring father she knew.

At six o'clock, Penelope put the girls in the bathtub and then after reading to them for a little while, she kissed them goodnight and went downstairs. She plopped down onto the couch and was flipping through the channels when the Oxygen Network caught her eye. "Ooooh, America's Next Top Model!" she said excitedly. She snuggled down with a fleece blanket that had been thrown haphazardly on the couch—Millie's she thought—and began to watch the show. After the first episode, she went into the kitchen to get a drink. There was an unopened can of buttercream frosting on the counter with a piece of paper resting up against it. She picked up the note to read it:

In case you run into any dicks while I'm gone.

She grinned as she picked up the can of frosting and popped the top off—then stuck her finger in and took a taste. But she didn't moan this time. It just wasn't worth it if she didn't have an audience.

___

Derek was bone tired when he walked through his front door three days later. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a few days. But he looked at the clock on the DVR and winced. Two a.m. He'd have to settle for four hours—if he was lucky. The girls would be up at the crack of dawn. He dropped his bag—he'd take care of that tomorrow—and headed for the stairs. Penelope wasn't on the couch, which meant she was in the spare bedroom. He yawned as he walked into his bedroom and stopped in his tracks. Penelope was fast asleep in his bed…on the side he preferred. He walked over to the bed and gave her a shake. "Garcia," he said.

She stretched and opened her eyes. "Hey," she said softly.

He grinned at her. "You're in my bed."

"Well, the couch just wasn't comfortable, and then the spare bed is just too small. This one was just right," she said with a yawn.

"Is that so, Goldilocks?" he asked with a tired grin. He grabbed one of her blonde curls and let his fingers slide down the lock before it fell to the pillow.

She nodded, her eyelids already fluttering closed again.

"Move over," he whispered, undoing his belt buckle.

"Go get in the spare bed," she said, her eyes not opening.

"Darlin', while I appreciate everything you do for me, I won't give you my bed after I've been away for three days. I'll share it with you, but that's as good as it gets. Now get off my side of the bed," he teased.

She groaned, but did as he asked.

Derek crawled into bed and covered up, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He could smell coconut on his pillow; her perfume was on his sheets. He inhaled deeply, enjoying her scent.

"Stay on your side of the bed," she mumbled. A minute later, her breathing was even. Two minutes behind, Derek was snoring.

___

If he'd only been spooning her, she would have been able to excuse it, but that wasn't the case.

When Penelope woke up the next morning, her head was tucked under his chin. His hand was underneath her tank top, resting on her bare waist. And one of his legs was between hers. His upper thigh was resting against her girliest part. Penelope had all she could do not to groan.

And the most mortifying part was that after she'd warned him to stay on his side of the bed, every inch of her was on his. As for extricating herself without waking him up—that was going to be tricky.