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geekystudmuffin2009-09-03 09:27 pm
innerslytherin) wrote in geekystudmuffin2009-09-03 09:27 pm
A Real Fixer-Upper, Morgan/Prentiss, NC-17 (1/4)
Title: A Real Fixer-Upper (1/4)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: 32,100
Summary: Morgan has a new house to renovate. He doesn't realize he's going to end up renovating his life right along with it.
Notes: Betaed by the wonderfulresolucidity
It wasn't an unsub that got him. It wasn't even an injury in the line of duty. No, what brought him down was his hobby.
Derek Morgan, felled by a twenty foot ladder.
Generally speaking he didn't do big projects like this one. Usually he bought foreclosure properties in run-down neighborhoods and renovated them, then sold them at a tiny profit (if any) to families. He knew it was a one-man revitalization project that was doomed to fail, ultimately, but it gave him satisfaction knowing he was helping people out, and the physical reconstruction of the homes gave him stress relief.
But this house was different. This was a nice Arts and Craft style house that had come on the market after its elderly owner died. It was in a nice part of town, the price was low, both because there were no heirs and because the house was in a sad state of disrepair. But Derek had a gift for looking at both people and houses and seeing potential. And he saw a lot of potential in this one.
Not that he really meant to keep the house for himself...but it was a tempting thought. His own house didn't have much personality; its main attraction had been the easy price and the location that was convenient to Quantico.
These thoughts, punctuated by pain and a lot of swear words, were running through his head as he sprawled under the twenty foot ladder he'd been using the check the gutters. He was half on concrete and half on grass (and thank God he'd only hit his head on the grass instead of the concrete) and his ankle and bad knee had wrenched when he'd landed.
He tried to get up twice and failed, and he was around the back of the house; no one was going to come and find him. Hell, there were only a couple of people who even knew about his renovation work, and none of them knew where any of his houses were.
With a sigh, he pulled his cell phone off his belt and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was still working. Flipping it open, he dialed the one person he knew he could count on to keep her mouth shut about this to everyone else. Even if she would rib him about it for months to come.
"Prentiss. It's Morgan. I got a huge favor to ask of you."
When she responded, she had a funny mix of confusion, surprise and concern in her voice. "Are you okay?" She paused for only a brief moment before adding, "I am not calling you and pretending to be your sister to bail you out of a date you don't want to be on again."
"Wish it was that," he muttered. "Look, um...is this a bad time?"
"Um... no," she said, then repeated, "Are you okay?" He must not have been masking the pain in his voice as well as he'd hoped.
"Well...I got a slight problem," he admitted. "I'm at one of my properties, and...I, uh. I fell off my ladder."
"How did you manage that?" she asked, then quickly said, "Wait. That's not important. Where are you? Do you need me to call an ambulance?--No, you would have done that already; you have a phone. What do you need?"
"I really just need to get some ice on my ankle. I don't need an ambulance, but it's my right leg. I don't think I can drive." He sighed. "If I tell you where I am, do you think you could swing by and give me a ride?"
"Yeah, sure. I can do that," she said.
"You don't mind? I mean, I wouldn't want to bother you, but...well, you know." He didn't really know why he'd called her, except she was someone he liked and trusted a lot, and she was the only person on the team who knew about his properties.
She laughed. "No, I'd rather just leave you there in pain. Of course I don't mind. Where are you?"
He gave her directions and she promised to hurry.
Then he slumped down to wait. At least it wasn't cold out. It could be worse. Not five minutes after he thought that, he began to shiver. He swore. "Don't go into shock, man," he muttered. "Prentiss is gonna be here soon." He wondered if talking to himself was a bad sign.
It wasn't close, but it didn't take Emily too long to get there. Morgan heard a car drive up close, and then the back yard gate creak. It was a good thing he hadn't fixed the latch yet.
"Morgan?" she called.
"My knight in shining armor," he joked, lifting his head from the ground and waving half-heartedly at her. "Emily Prentiss, most beautiful sight in the world."
She laughed, but it didn't sound all that amused as she walked over to him. "If you're expecting to be carried, you should have called Hotch." She eyed him for a moment. "You look like shit," she assessed, then leaned down and offered him a hand to pull him into a seated position. She pressed her hand to his cheek. "Do you feel okay?"
"Hmm, if I say no will you kiss it better and rub my shoulders?" he teased.
She smacked his cheek lightly, but she was smiling. "I'm serious. You're clammy. Do you think you broke anything?"
"Don't think so, my ankle's swollen, but I think it's just sprained. I hope." He blinked at her and tried a big-eyed look on her. "Not even one kiss?"
She rolled her eyes. "If I kiss you, will you let me take you to see a doctor?"
"I just need to ice it," he protested, but he couldn't resist the idea of blackmailing her into a kiss. "Fine, but it better be a good kiss."
She snorted, then waggled her eyebrows at him. Then she leaned forward and kissed his forehead with a loud "Mwa!" She pulled back, and gripped his arm. "Okay, hospital we go. You have to help me get you up."
"Hey," he protested, laughing. With Emily's help, he struggled to his feet and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, leaning on her. "What about urgent care instead?" he suggested. "I hurt myself enough playing football that I'm pretty familiar with sprains."
She groaned under his weight, but they started toward the gate anyway. "You're not going into shock, are you?" she asked, eying him.
"Going into shock? Dunno. Fuck," he hissed as he tried to avoid putting weight on his ankle and did anyway. "Maybe."
"Then we're going to the hospital," she said, leaning against him a little more and trying to push up under his arm to support his bad side.
Derek sighed and didn't bother arguing. "Whatever you say, Em," he said. "I'm just grateful you came and got me instead of leaving my ass out all night in the backyard."
"Oh, you would have dragged yourself to a neighbor eventually," she teased, and glanced around them as they got to the car, looking back at where they'd come from. "Nice house," she said, then tried to balance Morgan against her as she opened the passenger door of her car.
Derek grunted. "It will be, anyway," he said. "If you come back when I'm more mobile, I'll give you a tour." He hissed in suppressed pain as he settled down in to the seat. Apparently he'd bruised a hip pretty good.
"Well, I mean, it looks like it had potential is what I meant," she said, then closed the door behind him and headed around the car.
He managed a smile when she got in next to him. "That's what I thought," he said. "I don't usually work on this sort of house, but the price was right, and the structure of the house is fantastic." He shifted and grimaced at the way his jeans felt painfully tight against his knee. "Gutters need work, though."
"Yeah, so does your balance, apparently," she said, and pulled away from the curb.
He snorted. "Shouldn't have steadied myself on the gutter, that's all." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Do I really have to go to the hospital? I think that kiss was only worth urgent care."
She glanced at him sideways, then back to the road. A moment later she shot another quick glance at his knee. "You seem okay enough, I guess. They'll probably have to cut your jeans off no matter where we go."
"You're just trying to get me naked," Morgan said. He didn't manage to keep a straight face, though.
She hummed an amused noise. "And you're just trying to add me to the roster of women you've kissed," she countered.
"Nah, not that I would mind, but you're not the kind of girl to be added to a list like that," he said. He'd said as much to Reid once, when the kid accused him of giving her the wrong impression. Women like Emily Prentiss know better than to get involved with people like me, he'd said. And he'd meant it. She deserved better treatment than that.
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted," she said, but she still sounded amused. "What kind of girl am I then?"
He laughed easily. "You're a keeper, Emily Prentiss. Man like me looks at a woman like you and knows that, and knows he couldn't keep you." He cracked an eye open to glance at her. "That explain a few things?"
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't say anything or take her eyes off the road. She brushed her hair behind her ear, and looked thoughtfully out the window, then finally spoke, her voice quieter than it had been. "It explains why you choose the women you do, yes."
That wasn't what he'd meant--he'd been thinking about why she thought she messed up dates by talking about Kurt Vonnegut--but it was interesting that she said that. "You got something to say about the kind of women I associate with?" he asked, curious rather than upset.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Huh. Something to say about me, then?" he added teasingly.
She glanced at him sideways, and then didn't answer as she pulled into the parking lot of the urgent care. Her expression was still sort of amused, but otherwise he wasn't sure how to read it, and she got out and walked around his side of the car to help him out.
"Thanks for doing this," he said as he limped into the lobby with her help. It occurred to him that Emily was probably one of his closest friends...and it probably said a lot that she didn't really know that much about him. Maybe Hotch had been right when he talked about Derek's trust issues.
"There's nothing else I'd rather be doing on a Saturday night than spending it at the urgent care," she said, but tightened her arm around him. He had the feeling it was meant to let him know she was joking. "How are you doing?"
He paused, trying to decide between being macho and lying, which she would see right through, or admitting the truth. "You know, it hurts a little," he said, hoping to make her laugh.
He smiled when she did, her grip going a little tighter still. "Oh, just a little?"
"Maybe more than a little," he admitted, turning his head to smile down at her. God, and that was what he wouldn't ever tell her, that something about the laughter in her eyes and the way her hair fell across her cheek made his stomach tug. She was beautiful and intelligent and utterly attractive, there was no doubt about that. But she was meant for someone better than Derek Morgan.
"I hope so." She grinned and pushed him into a chair. "You know, mostly because this would have been a big waste of my time otherwise," she said, and went up to the front desk to get him signed in and bring back paperwork he needed to fill out.
He'd chuckled at her remark, but by the time he'd slumped down in a chair and caught his breath, the laughter had faded. This was why he never spent time around Emily the way he occasionally caught a ball game with Hotch or a movie with Reid, or the way he hung around with Penelope all the time. Spending time with Emily would mean something, and he couldn't afford to let it.
He was relieved when she came back with the papers and he had to concentrate on listing drug allergies and previous injuries. She found some woman's magazine and started thumbing through, and Morgan couldn't help but grin as she cast wordless aspersions at the articles as she flipped pages, snorting occasionally or making little half-amused, half-offended noises.
When he'd been checked out, issued prescriptions for painkillers and anti-inflammatories, and given a pair of crutches to get out, he found her sprawled in her chair, fanning herself idly with the magazine. He made a show of turning to look around, then grinned at her.
"Aww, is that for me? Baby, I know I'm stylin' with one leg of my jeans half off, but don't get too worked up. I ain't up to much 'physical activity'." He grinned and stayed out of reach so she couldn't kick him.
"You're lucky you're already injured," she said, rolling her eyes, then put the magazine down and stood. "Ready to go home?"
"You think I don't know that? You'd kick my ass if I wasn't on crutches." He waved the prescription papers at her. "You want to hang out at a pharmacy with me for a while, too?" He tilted his head and gave her his most charming smile. "I'll buy you dinner."
"Mmm, where at?" she teased, and started out the building, holding the door open for him as he hobbled through it.
"Somewhere I can go dressed like this?" he suggested, laughing. "Tell you what, I'll buy you pizza and beer tonight, and I'll owe you something nicer when I'm on two feet again." A moment after he said it he realized that could sound like a date. His stomach dropped, but he looked down to make sure he wasn't going to trip over anything and successfully avoided her gaze.
"Psh, pizza and beer sounds fine," she said, not having seemed to have taken his comment the way he worried she might. A minute later, he rolled his eyes at himself mentally. Of course she wouldn't have taken it that way. "Here," she said once they got to the car, holding a hand out for his crutches so he could get in the car, and then tossing them in the back seat.
"Great. I'll even let you pick the toppings, as long as you promise not to feed anchovies to my dog." He settled into the passenger seat much more comfortably than he had earlier in the day.
She laughed. "Oh, we're ordering pizza?" she asked, and pulled out of the parking lot. "Okay, tell me where we're going."
When they got to Morgan's house, Emily looked around, inspecting it for a moment before she apparently decided that it was okay and forced Morgan to sit down and put his leg up. He ordered pizza to her specifications and she helped herself to the contents of his kitchen.
He found himself grinning as he heard her digging around in his cabinets. He wanted to ask what she was looking for to tell her where to find it, but there was something kind of nice about the way she'd just made herself at home like she had. She came back later with a plastic bag full of ice in one hand and two beers in the other. She handed him the ice, and then eyed him for a moment.
"Should you be drinking beer? They didn't give you anything strong, right?"
"Sadly, none of the good stuff," he said. "I don't think it's gonna kill my liver to have a cold one. Or even two." He held up the remote. "You want control of this, too? Am I doing enough to demonstrate how grateful I am you sacrificed what was probably a smokin' hot date to take care of me instead?"
She snorted, handed him the beer, and collapsed in the sofa near where he was sitting. "Please. I don't have smoking hot dates." She snatched the remote belatedly.
"I so don't buy that," Derek said, shaking his head.
She turned to look at him, eyebrows lifted. Her expression said she couldn't believe he didn't believe that. Then she shrugged and looked back at the TV, flipping channels too quickly to really be paying any attention to what was on. "Honest truth," she said after a moment. "I've already told you, I scare men off."
"Ah, you don't want the kind of man who'd be scared by an attractive, intelligent woman, anyway," he said, then tilted his head. "Unless they're scared of the part where you carry a gun every day." He winked, then stretched. "All right, so what does Emily Prentiss do on a Saturday night, if she's not with the team busting bad guys?"
"Curl up in a sweater that's four times too big, with a glass of wine and a good book?" she said. "Hot tub?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm boring. I get enough excitement at work; when I'm home, I'm just... quiet, I guess."
"Oh, yeah-yeah, that's right, the hot tub I'm not invited to," he teased. "Quiet's not the same as boring, anyway." He shrugged. "I mean, look at me, I'm climbing ladders to check gutters on a Saturday night." Of course, there were some Saturday nights he was out looking for someone to distract him, but that wasn't every weekend, or even close.
She gave him a look that said she knew what he did on those other weekends, but before she said anything, the doorbell rang. Clooney ran in from the back hallway barking, and Emily jumped up to follow him.
Morgan was about to call Clooney, but Emily made a little clicking sound at him, and it caught Clooney's attention. "Quiet."
Clooney whimpered, but he sat and let her answer the door without commotion, then followed her to the kitchen, trying to sniff at the box of pizza.
"Hey, you wanna marry me?" Derek called out to her. "Because Clooney doesn't even obey my mom as well as he does you."
She laughed and he heard he rummaging through cupboards again. "Are you comparing me to your mother?" she asked.
Damn straight, he thought, but just laughed. "Just comparing you to one of the few women my dog's ever met, that's all," he replied. "You've met my mom; I'd be scared to compare you two."
"Mmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "How many pieces do you want?"
"Three," he said, which he figured was slightly less piggish than the four he really wanted. It had been a long time since lunch, after all.
"Growing boy," she said, and a moment later she came back into the living room with two full plates. She had four pieces, and when he gave her a look, she had a hard time not laughing. "What? I've been lugging around 185 pounds of ex-football player all afternoon. I'm hungry!"
Morgan laughed and shook his head. Despite the way his leg was still throbbing, he wouldn't mind spending most Saturdays like this one. "Yeah, I'm sure you're not used to all this hard work," he teased. He looked down to where Clooney had trailed her in, his stubby tail wagging. "You forgot to mention the part where you made my dog fall in love with you."
"It's just because I have more pizza than you do," she said. "Next time I come over, I'll have bacon in my pocket or something."
Next time, Derek thought. He liked that idea. And he shouldn't. He shouldn't do this at all. He should have called Reid. But God, he couldn't help loving this. "Naw, grease upsets his stomach," he said. "But he likes that fake bacon." He shifted a little and stretched out more, then took a bite of his pizza.
"The stuff with the dog on TV that just shouts 'bacon' over and over?" she asked. Clooney rested his head on the couch next to her and gave her puppy eyes. "I'll pet you when I'm done eating," she told him, and he pressed his face to her leg.
An hour later Emily was stretched out on the couch, her shoes off, with Clooney snuggled up next to her looking like he was in dog heaven. Derek was trying not to be jealous of the dog, and forcing his attention to the documentary they were watching about tornadoes. He wasn't sure how they'd settled on that, but it was interesting, and Emily seemed to have no inclination to go.
Not that Derek was going to complain about that. Heck, it wasn't even nine on a Saturday night, it was kind of nice that she'd apparently decided to spend the rest of her evening here. He relaxed and enjoyed the documentary and their conversation on the commercials. When the show was over, it was ten, and Morgan had no desire to kick her out, even if he knew she was probably about to leave on her own.
"Hey, buddy," she murmured, looking at Clooney. "I doubt Daddy would like it if I stayed." She made the mistake of petting the top of his head and rubbing his ears, though, and Clooney just made a happy noise and snuggled closer, putting his head on her belly. She laughed softly. "No pouting," she told him. "Did you teach Daddy those eyes or did he teach you?"
Derek snorted. "Well, they do say people and pets grow to resemble each other," he joked, then yawned. "I do have a guest bedroom that you're welcome to, but I can just about guarantee that with the attention you've given him, Clooney would demand to sleep with you."
Derek was not jealous of a dog. He was not.
She laughed quietly. "I don't mind," she said. "I probably shouldn't, though." She glanced back over at him. "Unless you think you'll need help."
He wanted to say yes, but it wouldn't be true, and anyway, he had his pride. He wasn't going to pretend to be more hurt than he was just to get more of her attention. He'd let this go too far, anyway. "Nah, I'm good," he said, smiling at her. "Thanks again, Emily. It really would've sucked to have to drag myself to the neighbor's house."
She laughed again, and shifted out from under Clooney. "It was nothing," she said. She looped an arm around Clooney when he sat next to her and gave him a hug, then stood. "I'll let myself out. See you Monday."
"See you," he said automatically, then caught her wrist gently as she walked past him. "Really," he said quietly. "Thank you." He knew he didn't usually let people help him, and he knew he kept people at a distance. But she'd made everything easier today, and he wanted to make sure she knew he appreciated it.
She looked a little surprised at first, but then she touched his hand with her free one. "It's really fine. I was happy to do it."
He nodded and let her go, smiling. "See you Monday."
*****
When Monday rolled around, Morgan was feeling a little better, though his knee was still twinging. He hoped they wouldn't get called out on a case, as then he would have to tell Hotch, but as it was, he was able to fake the limp out of his walk. And hopefully by the time they did get called out, it wouldn't be an issue.
It didn't fool Emily, though. When he walked in, Morgan caught her eying his leg. But she didn't say anything, and Morgan was relieved to find she hadn't told anyone either. He hadn't expected her to--it was part of why he called her--but it felt nice anyway.
He spent as much time at his desk as possible all day, and arranged for another instructor to take his hand-to-hand class for him in the afternoon, and did not pay more attention to Emily than he usually did. Really. Every time he realized he'd been idly watching her while he thought about the cases he was consulting on, he made himself get up and walk to the kitchenette for a new cup of coffee or bottle of water.
That was how he happened to be coming back with a cold bottle when JJ leaned on Emily's desk and said, "So how was your date Saturday night? I kept expecting you to call me with a post-mortem, and you never did."
"Oh." Emily laughed self-consciously. "I, uh, cancelled it. Something came up."
Derek stopped walking. She'd had a date? He had asked if he was calling at a bad time.
"Something came up?" JJ asked. "What just came up?"
"A friend called and needed my help. And I would rather spend time with him than get shot down by some guy I barely knew." She shrugged.
Derek coughed and walked past Emily's desk, meeting Emily's gaze just long enough to let her know he'd heard that.
"A friend?" he heard JJ ask, and then he was at his desk and they'd lowered their voices, so he didn't hear anything else. But he deliberately looked over at Emily again a few moments later.
She met his gaze after JJ left and stuck her tongue out at him. Morgan raised his eyebrows, then blew her a kiss before looking back down, grinning, at his work. She'd blown off a date because he'd called and asked her for help. Okay, he would do that, too, for anyone on the team--but he hadn't told her he needed help before he asked if it was a bad time. Maybe she could tell what he needed, but it was still a good feeling.
Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to give her grief about it as soon as he got the chance.
Later in the afternoon, he found himself heading for more coffee while she was in the kitchenette. She must have seen it coming from the grin on his face. "Shut it, or I'll tell everyone you fell off a ladder and were sprawled out in your backyard, helpless, until I rescued you." She finished adding cream to her coffee, then looked at him. "And that your dog likes me more than you."
"Hey, that ain't true," he protested, deliberately misunderstanding. "I like you at least as much as Clooney does." He grinned and leaned close. "Especially since you cancelled a date to hang out with me. And here you said you scare men off."
She gave him a look. "I know where to kick you."
"Aw, you'd just have to take me to the urgent care again," he teased, "and then I could file a harassment claim." He winked. "Come on, Emily, why didn't you tell me to call Reid or somebody? I would've understood."
She sighed. "Because a trip to the hospital was ultimately more interesting than a couple hours with some guy who would more than likely either wind up intimidated by a woman who carries a gun, or who would figure out soon enough what a geek I am and do the 'I've had a lovely time' routine only to never call me again." She held up a finger to keep him from saying anything. "Or worse, I could have hated him. I'd rather spend time with a friend I already know I like. I'm so sick of dating."
"You'd rather spend time with a friend who asked you to cart him around all over, including to the hospital." Morgan smiled, shaking his head. "There's a good chance I'll never really understand you." He nudged her. "Not that that's a bad thing."
"Come on, I got to read all about how to please my man, how to burn that stubborn belly fat, and what makeup tips were hot last fall," she said, then smiled faintly. "And Clooney was good company."
Derek pressed a hand against his chest in mock hurt. "And I wasn't? Man. I can see I would've gotten a better reception if I'd snuggled up against you and made you pet me."
She laughed. "Still so much to learn about women. You can never make a woman pet you."
"You mean my puppy eyes wouldn't have worked on you as well as Clooney's did?"
She eyed him for a moment. "Human boys need more than puppy eyes."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, do tell," he said, crossing his arms and grinning at her.
"Oh, you wish," she said, and started to walk back towards her desk.
"One of these days, pretty lady, you'll fall to my charms," he said, following her. "They all do." He caught Garcia talking to Reid and slid an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. "Don't you, gorgeous?" he asked, giving her a gentle squeeze.
"Of course, my dark knight," she replied. "Don't I what?"
"Find my charms irresistible," he said.
"You know it, hot stuff."
Emily snorted and kept walking.
Derek sighed. "She never believes me," he told Garcia mournfully, then squeezed her again and went back to his desk.
***
Emily had been on a lot of bad dates. A lot of bad dates. But this one was unequivocally the worst date she had been on in at least a decade. Keith Lafroy was boring, unexpectedly crude, cheap, sloppy, and--worst of all--he wouldn't take a hint. When she escaped from this date, she was going to send a very nasty email to her former college roommate, who'd set this up.
First, though, she had to escape.
"So there I was," Keith said, leaning back in his chair. "Ex-girlfriend in front of me, ex-girlfriend behind me, and current girlfriend on the other side of the room. It was a nightmare!"
Emily couldn't even summon a polite laugh, so she just sat there through his entire story. Staring at him.
Eventually, he excused himself from the table to go 'take a leak', and she gaped at his back the entire way there, then slumped against the table, her head in her hands.
"Oh my God," she groaned, and tried to come up with a plan to get out of this. After a moment, she snatched her phone out of her purse and sent Morgan a frantic text.
If you don't call me NOW, Clooney can forget those Beggin' Strips. Seriously, PLEASE. You owe me, remember?
Her phone rang what seemed like seconds after she sent the message. "Emily? What's up, do you need help?" She could hear the edge in his voice, concern that could easily become more. She'd scared him, she realized.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but you called too soon. Give me five minutes, then call back," she said, and hung up on him.
She got a text back that said, Whats goin on? Where R U?
She didn't want to answer, but from the tone of his voice, she could just imagine him rousing Garcia from what was probably a fantastic night out swing dancing with Kevin, just to track Emily's cell signal. And that would result in a very dead Derek Morgan, because Garcia took her dancing seriously. Emily couldn't have that on her conscience. Quickly she texted a reply.
Keith came back to the table and five minutes passed. Then ten. Emily was torn between cursing Morgan to the heavens and worrying what he was up to. She supposed if he decided to show up, it would still get her out of here, but he wouldn't do that. Would he? And even if he would, it meant she had to sit in Keith's presence that much longer, so Emily was right back to cursing Morgan again.
Keith was right in the middle of another boring story when he stopped and said, "Huh. That guy just keeps staring at you." He scowled. "Back the fuck off, buddy," he muttered. "She's on a date."
Oh, God, she thought, and followed Keith's gaze, then feigned surprise when she saw Morgan watching them. "Oh, hi! What are you doing here?" she said, her tone cheery, and stood in greeting, fully prepared to give him a hug and the 'friend I haven't seen in ages' routine.
Morgan's expression didn't exactly say 'friend I haven't seen in ages', though, and when he got closer, he said, "Emily! Emily Prentiss! I haven't seen you since that incredible weekend in Paris! My God, you're more beautiful than I remembered!" And as soon as those words were out of his mouth, he grabbed her and bent her backwards in what was possibly the steamiest public kiss she'd ever had.
And he was really kissing her, too. She made a surprised noise and considered her options: push him away, and possibly have Keith try to play at chivalry by attempting to shoo Morgan away, or... kiss Morgan back. After a few seconds of being totally tense in his arms, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.
Oh, that was a bad idea. Little sparks of pleasure shot through her body; it had been ages since she'd been kissed like this. She curled her fingers into his shirt, and held a whimper. When she finally focused enough to push him back, her face was burning, and she was breathless. "Hi," she panted. "Um... hi. Ah... Keith..." She pushed her hair behind her ears. "God, hi." Shut up, Emily.
"I've missed you," Morgan said quietly, not letting her pull away. "I have spent two years asking myself why I didn't marry you when I could have." He completely ignored Keith, as well as the rest of the people in the restaurant. "Do you remember the way we used to be, Em? What are you doing at a restaurant with some guy when we could be together?"
What?! Emily's brain hadn't exactly caught up with her after that kiss, and the way that Morgan was holding their bodies together didn't help. "Derek," she finally managed to whisper. She hadn't meant to whisper, but her voice was suddenly not coming out right. Her cheeks went impossibly hotter. "I thought... I thought... what about that waitress?" she asked finally as she started to get her head back. "The waitress in Milan? I thought--"
"I was stupid. Utterly stupid," Derek broke in. "I knew that as soon as you got on that plane. I was just too damn proud. Please forgive me."
She opened her mouth, staring at him, and then dredged up every last ounce of her acting ability and bit her lip, her eyes getting glassy. "Do you mean it?" she asked, her voice wavering. "Derek..." She cupped his face with her hands and kissed his lips quickly, but tenderly. "Derek, do you really mean that?"
Keith was staring at them, his mouth hanging open.
Morgan just kissed her again. She had a feeling he was getting into this a little more than he needed to be...but the thought sort of faded when one of his hands slid into her hair. He pulled away and gave her a brilliant smile, then turned to glance at Keith.
"Sorry, man, but Emily is no longer available." Then he glanced at her, looking suitably anxious. "That is...you didn't exactly say yes."
From behind her, someone called, "Hey, do it right! You oughta be down on one knee!"
She drew in a quick breath, then shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that," she said, and then grinned at him like she'd just won the lottery. "Yes! Of course I forgive you!" She thought maybe jumping into his arms was appropriate, but probably too much, so she refrained and hugged him tightly instead.
Morgan was clearly enjoying himself too much. He hummed, then murmured in her ear, "If you want me to, I'll get down on one knee. Or is he convinced?"
She kissed his jaw just to have an excuse to whisper back in his ear. "Just grab my purse and carry me out," she hissed, then looked at Keith. "I'm sorry. Keith, I--" She let out a little yelp when Morgan picked her up, as if she hadn't expected it. "I had a great time!" she called over Morgan's shoulder as he carried her out. A few people actually cheered, and by the time they were outside, she was laughing uncontrollably, her face pressed to his neck.
She could feel Morgan laughing, too. He didn't put her down as soon as they got outside, like she had expected. He kept carrying her for a while, and when he did put her down, he was wearing a sheepish expression, though his eyes were still glimmering with mischief. "It's a good thing you're not wearing a dress. I didn't even think about that when I came over on the bike."
She let out a breathy laugh, and swallowed hard. Once the contact was over, the act was over, and suddenly the way her body had responded to his felt totally inappropriate. He seemed okay, though, and he did start it, but her cheeks seemed to refuse to cool down. "Well, ah... I'm glad I didn't go all out for this date, then," she said, pushing her hair behind her ears.
His smile widened, but he just held out an extra helmet for her. "Since I interrupted your dessert, let me buy you some. Ice cream sundae sound all right to you?"
She smiled and pulled the helmet on. "Yeah, sounds good." She tilted her chin up. "This on right?"
He checked her chin strap, then, to her complete shock, leaned in and kissed her slowly. His arm slid around her waist, and she suddenly had no idea what to do. When he pulled away, he murmured, "Your date is coming this way."
She stood there, completely unable to think of anything to say. She didn't pull away though, and his nose was still brushing hers. She slid her hands up his arms and held him there. "Oh." Her thumbs stroked over his upper arms, and then she stopped them. "Um, tell me when he's gone," she whispered, feeling utterly awkward, and a little turned on.
And more than a little confused. She wanted nothing more right at this moment than for him to kiss her again, and she shouldn't want that. This was all just an act, and she'd gone too long without a real man in her life.
Morgan chuckled. "He's staring at me right now. Maybe he thinks I'm making out with someone else, now that you have a helmet on." He leaned his forehead against the helmet and made a quiet noise. "Emily Prentiss, you've seriously made my night. I haven't had this much fun in ages." He pulled away, then looked over her shoulder. A moment later he kissed her again.
God, he was a good kisser. She knew she shouldn't be melting against him, but somehow it was hard to resist. She shouldn't be leaning into him and deepening the kiss, either. She shouldn't be sliding her arms up around his shoulders again. For a moment, it all felt real too, like it wasn't an act, as his hand slid over the small of her back, and her fingertips traced over his smooth head.
God, this was bad. She pulled out of the kiss, but was reluctant to let him go. "Is he still there?"
"I wish," Morgan murmured, sounding breathless. She wasn't sure that was what he'd really said, but then she heard the car door slam and the engine start, and Morgan pulled away with an odd expression on his face.
"What?" she said breathlessly, but when his brows drew together, she shook her head. She had the ridiculous feeling she'd be disappointed if she misheard. And then her thoughts were replaced with something else entirely as she suddenly remembered why she'd texted him in the first place. "Shit," she hissed. "You shouldn't have carried me. How's your leg?"
Morgan was still studying her, but he shrugged and grinned. "It's fine. Had a whole week to heal." He pulled on his own helmet, then climbed on the motorcycle. "Come on, baby," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Let's blow this joint."
She huffed a laugh and eyed him for a moment, then slid onto his bike. Oh, this was terrible. How the hell had a few kisses that she knew didn't mean anything done this to her? She slid her arms around him, enjoying the warmth of him against a little more than she should, and settled her chin on his shoulder. "Mmm, I like me a dangerous man," she teased.
She heard him laugh. "Oh, honey, you've got no idea what you're in for." He revved the engine and covered her arm with his hand. "Hold on tight!" And he pulled out of the parking lot way faster than she thought was a good idea.
She tightened her grip on him, fingers circling her own wrists and sliding closer, then she pressed her face to the back of his shoulder and let out what could only be described as a squeal. She wasn't sure yet if she loved this or hated it, but she felt safe against Morgan's back.
After a few turns and a couple of fast take-offs, she realized he was driving fast, but not recklessly. She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up inside her. He was obviously showing off for her, and even if she knew it was just his way, she couldn't help but be flattered and amused by it. This might have been a bad idea, but it was way better than listening to Keith tell another boring story about himself.
By the time they'd pulled up outside the ice cream shop, she was grinning, and when he turned the engine off, she laughed quietly against his shoulder. She didn't pull away right away. She couldn't force herself to, but eventually she made herself to sit back. "God, I haven't ridden on a motorcycle in ages."
Morgan reached down and patted her leg. "You haven't forgotten how," he assured her. "Any time you want a ride, you just let me know. It's more fun riding with someone." He took his helmet off and looked over his shoulder at her.
She just kept smiling at him. "Sure." After a moment, she slid off the bike to let him off, then gripped his arm as she got her footing again.
Morgan steadied her, then draped an arm around her and guided her to the door, which he held for her. "Now that you've agreed to run away with me, my life is complete," he said. She knew he was teasing, but his gaze was too warm, and it made her chest ache a little bit.
She smiled back at him. "Where should we go?" she asked. "And if you say Milan, it's over. I don't like sharing."
He raised his eyebrows. "Where to run away with a woman who's seen all the glamorous parts of the world already?" he teased. "I obviously can't take you to Russia or the Middle East...Milan is out, and Paris is so cliché... I've got it. Argentina."
She laughed and reached up to squeeze the hand that was draped over her shoulder. "Ooh, let's go to the north pole!" she said after a moment. "We could take Reid to see Santa."
"I'm gonna tell him you think he's a kid," Morgan threatened, laughing. "Okay, Princess, what sort of ice cream do you want?"
"Hmm." She eyed the menu on the wall. "Butter pecan. Oh, wait, no, they have pistachio." She glanced up at him. "Pistachio. But you really don't have to buy. I was going to make Keith let me split the bill anyway. I didn't want him to think I owed him anything."
Morgan laughed. "Oh, Emily, I got to make out with you in front of a restaurant full of people. I don't think you owe me anything." He winked at her and pulled out his billfold. "Banana split for me."
"Well, but I got to make out with you too, so I'd say we were even." He handed over the money. "Except now you're buying me ice cream, so now I'm gonna have to put out," she lamented playfully. The boy behind the counter cleared his throat. She snorted and covered her mouth, then slipped out from under Morgan's arm to go get them a table.
She could see Morgan's shoulders shaking with laughter as he ordered and paid, and he was still grinning when he came over to the table a few minutes later, carrying their ice cream. He handed over her cone of pistachio, then started in on his banana split. "I think you scandalized that poor kid," he teased.
"I'm pretty scandalized myself," she said, grinning, and started on her ice cream.
"Oh, me too," he said, and winked. "So. What should we do the rest of the night to salvage your evening?"
"I don't know. A ride on a motorcycle and good ice cream is pretty nice." She sort of wanted to kiss him again, but now that the game was over, it was completely inappropriate.
"I'm very glad to hear that," he said. "I guess I could take you for another ride." He paused to lick some whipped cream off his spoon, then grinned slowly at her. "On the motorcycle, I mean."
She laughed quietly. "Sounds good to me."
Part Two
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyPairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
WC: 32,100
Summary: Morgan has a new house to renovate. He doesn't realize he's going to end up renovating his life right along with it.
Notes: Betaed by the wonderful
resolucidityIt wasn't an unsub that got him. It wasn't even an injury in the line of duty. No, what brought him down was his hobby.
Derek Morgan, felled by a twenty foot ladder.
Generally speaking he didn't do big projects like this one. Usually he bought foreclosure properties in run-down neighborhoods and renovated them, then sold them at a tiny profit (if any) to families. He knew it was a one-man revitalization project that was doomed to fail, ultimately, but it gave him satisfaction knowing he was helping people out, and the physical reconstruction of the homes gave him stress relief.
But this house was different. This was a nice Arts and Craft style house that had come on the market after its elderly owner died. It was in a nice part of town, the price was low, both because there were no heirs and because the house was in a sad state of disrepair. But Derek had a gift for looking at both people and houses and seeing potential. And he saw a lot of potential in this one.
Not that he really meant to keep the house for himself...but it was a tempting thought. His own house didn't have much personality; its main attraction had been the easy price and the location that was convenient to Quantico.
These thoughts, punctuated by pain and a lot of swear words, were running through his head as he sprawled under the twenty foot ladder he'd been using the check the gutters. He was half on concrete and half on grass (and thank God he'd only hit his head on the grass instead of the concrete) and his ankle and bad knee had wrenched when he'd landed.
He tried to get up twice and failed, and he was around the back of the house; no one was going to come and find him. Hell, there were only a couple of people who even knew about his renovation work, and none of them knew where any of his houses were.
With a sigh, he pulled his cell phone off his belt and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was still working. Flipping it open, he dialed the one person he knew he could count on to keep her mouth shut about this to everyone else. Even if she would rib him about it for months to come.
"Prentiss. It's Morgan. I got a huge favor to ask of you."
When she responded, she had a funny mix of confusion, surprise and concern in her voice. "Are you okay?" She paused for only a brief moment before adding, "I am not calling you and pretending to be your sister to bail you out of a date you don't want to be on again."
"Wish it was that," he muttered. "Look, um...is this a bad time?"
"Um... no," she said, then repeated, "Are you okay?" He must not have been masking the pain in his voice as well as he'd hoped.
"Well...I got a slight problem," he admitted. "I'm at one of my properties, and...I, uh. I fell off my ladder."
"How did you manage that?" she asked, then quickly said, "Wait. That's not important. Where are you? Do you need me to call an ambulance?--No, you would have done that already; you have a phone. What do you need?"
"I really just need to get some ice on my ankle. I don't need an ambulance, but it's my right leg. I don't think I can drive." He sighed. "If I tell you where I am, do you think you could swing by and give me a ride?"
"Yeah, sure. I can do that," she said.
"You don't mind? I mean, I wouldn't want to bother you, but...well, you know." He didn't really know why he'd called her, except she was someone he liked and trusted a lot, and she was the only person on the team who knew about his properties.
She laughed. "No, I'd rather just leave you there in pain. Of course I don't mind. Where are you?"
He gave her directions and she promised to hurry.
Then he slumped down to wait. At least it wasn't cold out. It could be worse. Not five minutes after he thought that, he began to shiver. He swore. "Don't go into shock, man," he muttered. "Prentiss is gonna be here soon." He wondered if talking to himself was a bad sign.
It wasn't close, but it didn't take Emily too long to get there. Morgan heard a car drive up close, and then the back yard gate creak. It was a good thing he hadn't fixed the latch yet.
"Morgan?" she called.
"My knight in shining armor," he joked, lifting his head from the ground and waving half-heartedly at her. "Emily Prentiss, most beautiful sight in the world."
She laughed, but it didn't sound all that amused as she walked over to him. "If you're expecting to be carried, you should have called Hotch." She eyed him for a moment. "You look like shit," she assessed, then leaned down and offered him a hand to pull him into a seated position. She pressed her hand to his cheek. "Do you feel okay?"
"Hmm, if I say no will you kiss it better and rub my shoulders?" he teased.
She smacked his cheek lightly, but she was smiling. "I'm serious. You're clammy. Do you think you broke anything?"
"Don't think so, my ankle's swollen, but I think it's just sprained. I hope." He blinked at her and tried a big-eyed look on her. "Not even one kiss?"
She rolled her eyes. "If I kiss you, will you let me take you to see a doctor?"
"I just need to ice it," he protested, but he couldn't resist the idea of blackmailing her into a kiss. "Fine, but it better be a good kiss."
She snorted, then waggled her eyebrows at him. Then she leaned forward and kissed his forehead with a loud "Mwa!" She pulled back, and gripped his arm. "Okay, hospital we go. You have to help me get you up."
"Hey," he protested, laughing. With Emily's help, he struggled to his feet and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, leaning on her. "What about urgent care instead?" he suggested. "I hurt myself enough playing football that I'm pretty familiar with sprains."
She groaned under his weight, but they started toward the gate anyway. "You're not going into shock, are you?" she asked, eying him.
"Going into shock? Dunno. Fuck," he hissed as he tried to avoid putting weight on his ankle and did anyway. "Maybe."
"Then we're going to the hospital," she said, leaning against him a little more and trying to push up under his arm to support his bad side.
Derek sighed and didn't bother arguing. "Whatever you say, Em," he said. "I'm just grateful you came and got me instead of leaving my ass out all night in the backyard."
"Oh, you would have dragged yourself to a neighbor eventually," she teased, and glanced around them as they got to the car, looking back at where they'd come from. "Nice house," she said, then tried to balance Morgan against her as she opened the passenger door of her car.
Derek grunted. "It will be, anyway," he said. "If you come back when I'm more mobile, I'll give you a tour." He hissed in suppressed pain as he settled down in to the seat. Apparently he'd bruised a hip pretty good.
"Well, I mean, it looks like it had potential is what I meant," she said, then closed the door behind him and headed around the car.
He managed a smile when she got in next to him. "That's what I thought," he said. "I don't usually work on this sort of house, but the price was right, and the structure of the house is fantastic." He shifted and grimaced at the way his jeans felt painfully tight against his knee. "Gutters need work, though."
"Yeah, so does your balance, apparently," she said, and pulled away from the curb.
He snorted. "Shouldn't have steadied myself on the gutter, that's all." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Do I really have to go to the hospital? I think that kiss was only worth urgent care."
She glanced at him sideways, then back to the road. A moment later she shot another quick glance at his knee. "You seem okay enough, I guess. They'll probably have to cut your jeans off no matter where we go."
"You're just trying to get me naked," Morgan said. He didn't manage to keep a straight face, though.
She hummed an amused noise. "And you're just trying to add me to the roster of women you've kissed," she countered.
"Nah, not that I would mind, but you're not the kind of girl to be added to a list like that," he said. He'd said as much to Reid once, when the kid accused him of giving her the wrong impression. Women like Emily Prentiss know better than to get involved with people like me, he'd said. And he'd meant it. She deserved better treatment than that.
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted," she said, but she still sounded amused. "What kind of girl am I then?"
He laughed easily. "You're a keeper, Emily Prentiss. Man like me looks at a woman like you and knows that, and knows he couldn't keep you." He cracked an eye open to glance at her. "That explain a few things?"
Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't say anything or take her eyes off the road. She brushed her hair behind her ear, and looked thoughtfully out the window, then finally spoke, her voice quieter than it had been. "It explains why you choose the women you do, yes."
That wasn't what he'd meant--he'd been thinking about why she thought she messed up dates by talking about Kurt Vonnegut--but it was interesting that she said that. "You got something to say about the kind of women I associate with?" he asked, curious rather than upset.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Huh. Something to say about me, then?" he added teasingly.
She glanced at him sideways, and then didn't answer as she pulled into the parking lot of the urgent care. Her expression was still sort of amused, but otherwise he wasn't sure how to read it, and she got out and walked around his side of the car to help him out.
"Thanks for doing this," he said as he limped into the lobby with her help. It occurred to him that Emily was probably one of his closest friends...and it probably said a lot that she didn't really know that much about him. Maybe Hotch had been right when he talked about Derek's trust issues.
"There's nothing else I'd rather be doing on a Saturday night than spending it at the urgent care," she said, but tightened her arm around him. He had the feeling it was meant to let him know she was joking. "How are you doing?"
He paused, trying to decide between being macho and lying, which she would see right through, or admitting the truth. "You know, it hurts a little," he said, hoping to make her laugh.
He smiled when she did, her grip going a little tighter still. "Oh, just a little?"
"Maybe more than a little," he admitted, turning his head to smile down at her. God, and that was what he wouldn't ever tell her, that something about the laughter in her eyes and the way her hair fell across her cheek made his stomach tug. She was beautiful and intelligent and utterly attractive, there was no doubt about that. But she was meant for someone better than Derek Morgan.
"I hope so." She grinned and pushed him into a chair. "You know, mostly because this would have been a big waste of my time otherwise," she said, and went up to the front desk to get him signed in and bring back paperwork he needed to fill out.
He'd chuckled at her remark, but by the time he'd slumped down in a chair and caught his breath, the laughter had faded. This was why he never spent time around Emily the way he occasionally caught a ball game with Hotch or a movie with Reid, or the way he hung around with Penelope all the time. Spending time with Emily would mean something, and he couldn't afford to let it.
He was relieved when she came back with the papers and he had to concentrate on listing drug allergies and previous injuries. She found some woman's magazine and started thumbing through, and Morgan couldn't help but grin as she cast wordless aspersions at the articles as she flipped pages, snorting occasionally or making little half-amused, half-offended noises.
When he'd been checked out, issued prescriptions for painkillers and anti-inflammatories, and given a pair of crutches to get out, he found her sprawled in her chair, fanning herself idly with the magazine. He made a show of turning to look around, then grinned at her.
"Aww, is that for me? Baby, I know I'm stylin' with one leg of my jeans half off, but don't get too worked up. I ain't up to much 'physical activity'." He grinned and stayed out of reach so she couldn't kick him.
"You're lucky you're already injured," she said, rolling her eyes, then put the magazine down and stood. "Ready to go home?"
"You think I don't know that? You'd kick my ass if I wasn't on crutches." He waved the prescription papers at her. "You want to hang out at a pharmacy with me for a while, too?" He tilted his head and gave her his most charming smile. "I'll buy you dinner."
"Mmm, where at?" she teased, and started out the building, holding the door open for him as he hobbled through it.
"Somewhere I can go dressed like this?" he suggested, laughing. "Tell you what, I'll buy you pizza and beer tonight, and I'll owe you something nicer when I'm on two feet again." A moment after he said it he realized that could sound like a date. His stomach dropped, but he looked down to make sure he wasn't going to trip over anything and successfully avoided her gaze.
"Psh, pizza and beer sounds fine," she said, not having seemed to have taken his comment the way he worried she might. A minute later, he rolled his eyes at himself mentally. Of course she wouldn't have taken it that way. "Here," she said once they got to the car, holding a hand out for his crutches so he could get in the car, and then tossing them in the back seat.
"Great. I'll even let you pick the toppings, as long as you promise not to feed anchovies to my dog." He settled into the passenger seat much more comfortably than he had earlier in the day.
She laughed. "Oh, we're ordering pizza?" she asked, and pulled out of the parking lot. "Okay, tell me where we're going."
When they got to Morgan's house, Emily looked around, inspecting it for a moment before she apparently decided that it was okay and forced Morgan to sit down and put his leg up. He ordered pizza to her specifications and she helped herself to the contents of his kitchen.
He found himself grinning as he heard her digging around in his cabinets. He wanted to ask what she was looking for to tell her where to find it, but there was something kind of nice about the way she'd just made herself at home like she had. She came back later with a plastic bag full of ice in one hand and two beers in the other. She handed him the ice, and then eyed him for a moment.
"Should you be drinking beer? They didn't give you anything strong, right?"
"Sadly, none of the good stuff," he said. "I don't think it's gonna kill my liver to have a cold one. Or even two." He held up the remote. "You want control of this, too? Am I doing enough to demonstrate how grateful I am you sacrificed what was probably a smokin' hot date to take care of me instead?"
She snorted, handed him the beer, and collapsed in the sofa near where he was sitting. "Please. I don't have smoking hot dates." She snatched the remote belatedly.
"I so don't buy that," Derek said, shaking his head.
She turned to look at him, eyebrows lifted. Her expression said she couldn't believe he didn't believe that. Then she shrugged and looked back at the TV, flipping channels too quickly to really be paying any attention to what was on. "Honest truth," she said after a moment. "I've already told you, I scare men off."
"Ah, you don't want the kind of man who'd be scared by an attractive, intelligent woman, anyway," he said, then tilted his head. "Unless they're scared of the part where you carry a gun every day." He winked, then stretched. "All right, so what does Emily Prentiss do on a Saturday night, if she's not with the team busting bad guys?"
"Curl up in a sweater that's four times too big, with a glass of wine and a good book?" she said. "Hot tub?" She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm boring. I get enough excitement at work; when I'm home, I'm just... quiet, I guess."
"Oh, yeah-yeah, that's right, the hot tub I'm not invited to," he teased. "Quiet's not the same as boring, anyway." He shrugged. "I mean, look at me, I'm climbing ladders to check gutters on a Saturday night." Of course, there were some Saturday nights he was out looking for someone to distract him, but that wasn't every weekend, or even close.
She gave him a look that said she knew what he did on those other weekends, but before she said anything, the doorbell rang. Clooney ran in from the back hallway barking, and Emily jumped up to follow him.
Morgan was about to call Clooney, but Emily made a little clicking sound at him, and it caught Clooney's attention. "Quiet."
Clooney whimpered, but he sat and let her answer the door without commotion, then followed her to the kitchen, trying to sniff at the box of pizza.
"Hey, you wanna marry me?" Derek called out to her. "Because Clooney doesn't even obey my mom as well as he does you."
She laughed and he heard he rummaging through cupboards again. "Are you comparing me to your mother?" she asked.
Damn straight, he thought, but just laughed. "Just comparing you to one of the few women my dog's ever met, that's all," he replied. "You've met my mom; I'd be scared to compare you two."
"Mmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "How many pieces do you want?"
"Three," he said, which he figured was slightly less piggish than the four he really wanted. It had been a long time since lunch, after all.
"Growing boy," she said, and a moment later she came back into the living room with two full plates. She had four pieces, and when he gave her a look, she had a hard time not laughing. "What? I've been lugging around 185 pounds of ex-football player all afternoon. I'm hungry!"
Morgan laughed and shook his head. Despite the way his leg was still throbbing, he wouldn't mind spending most Saturdays like this one. "Yeah, I'm sure you're not used to all this hard work," he teased. He looked down to where Clooney had trailed her in, his stubby tail wagging. "You forgot to mention the part where you made my dog fall in love with you."
"It's just because I have more pizza than you do," she said. "Next time I come over, I'll have bacon in my pocket or something."
Next time, Derek thought. He liked that idea. And he shouldn't. He shouldn't do this at all. He should have called Reid. But God, he couldn't help loving this. "Naw, grease upsets his stomach," he said. "But he likes that fake bacon." He shifted a little and stretched out more, then took a bite of his pizza.
"The stuff with the dog on TV that just shouts 'bacon' over and over?" she asked. Clooney rested his head on the couch next to her and gave her puppy eyes. "I'll pet you when I'm done eating," she told him, and he pressed his face to her leg.
An hour later Emily was stretched out on the couch, her shoes off, with Clooney snuggled up next to her looking like he was in dog heaven. Derek was trying not to be jealous of the dog, and forcing his attention to the documentary they were watching about tornadoes. He wasn't sure how they'd settled on that, but it was interesting, and Emily seemed to have no inclination to go.
Not that Derek was going to complain about that. Heck, it wasn't even nine on a Saturday night, it was kind of nice that she'd apparently decided to spend the rest of her evening here. He relaxed and enjoyed the documentary and their conversation on the commercials. When the show was over, it was ten, and Morgan had no desire to kick her out, even if he knew she was probably about to leave on her own.
"Hey, buddy," she murmured, looking at Clooney. "I doubt Daddy would like it if I stayed." She made the mistake of petting the top of his head and rubbing his ears, though, and Clooney just made a happy noise and snuggled closer, putting his head on her belly. She laughed softly. "No pouting," she told him. "Did you teach Daddy those eyes or did he teach you?"
Derek snorted. "Well, they do say people and pets grow to resemble each other," he joked, then yawned. "I do have a guest bedroom that you're welcome to, but I can just about guarantee that with the attention you've given him, Clooney would demand to sleep with you."
Derek was not jealous of a dog. He was not.
She laughed quietly. "I don't mind," she said. "I probably shouldn't, though." She glanced back over at him. "Unless you think you'll need help."
He wanted to say yes, but it wouldn't be true, and anyway, he had his pride. He wasn't going to pretend to be more hurt than he was just to get more of her attention. He'd let this go too far, anyway. "Nah, I'm good," he said, smiling at her. "Thanks again, Emily. It really would've sucked to have to drag myself to the neighbor's house."
She laughed again, and shifted out from under Clooney. "It was nothing," she said. She looped an arm around Clooney when he sat next to her and gave him a hug, then stood. "I'll let myself out. See you Monday."
"See you," he said automatically, then caught her wrist gently as she walked past him. "Really," he said quietly. "Thank you." He knew he didn't usually let people help him, and he knew he kept people at a distance. But she'd made everything easier today, and he wanted to make sure she knew he appreciated it.
She looked a little surprised at first, but then she touched his hand with her free one. "It's really fine. I was happy to do it."
He nodded and let her go, smiling. "See you Monday."
*****
When Monday rolled around, Morgan was feeling a little better, though his knee was still twinging. He hoped they wouldn't get called out on a case, as then he would have to tell Hotch, but as it was, he was able to fake the limp out of his walk. And hopefully by the time they did get called out, it wouldn't be an issue.
It didn't fool Emily, though. When he walked in, Morgan caught her eying his leg. But she didn't say anything, and Morgan was relieved to find she hadn't told anyone either. He hadn't expected her to--it was part of why he called her--but it felt nice anyway.
He spent as much time at his desk as possible all day, and arranged for another instructor to take his hand-to-hand class for him in the afternoon, and did not pay more attention to Emily than he usually did. Really. Every time he realized he'd been idly watching her while he thought about the cases he was consulting on, he made himself get up and walk to the kitchenette for a new cup of coffee or bottle of water.
That was how he happened to be coming back with a cold bottle when JJ leaned on Emily's desk and said, "So how was your date Saturday night? I kept expecting you to call me with a post-mortem, and you never did."
"Oh." Emily laughed self-consciously. "I, uh, cancelled it. Something came up."
Derek stopped walking. She'd had a date? He had asked if he was calling at a bad time.
"Something came up?" JJ asked. "What just came up?"
"A friend called and needed my help. And I would rather spend time with him than get shot down by some guy I barely knew." She shrugged.
Derek coughed and walked past Emily's desk, meeting Emily's gaze just long enough to let her know he'd heard that.
"A friend?" he heard JJ ask, and then he was at his desk and they'd lowered their voices, so he didn't hear anything else. But he deliberately looked over at Emily again a few moments later.
She met his gaze after JJ left and stuck her tongue out at him. Morgan raised his eyebrows, then blew her a kiss before looking back down, grinning, at his work. She'd blown off a date because he'd called and asked her for help. Okay, he would do that, too, for anyone on the team--but he hadn't told her he needed help before he asked if it was a bad time. Maybe she could tell what he needed, but it was still a good feeling.
Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to give her grief about it as soon as he got the chance.
Later in the afternoon, he found himself heading for more coffee while she was in the kitchenette. She must have seen it coming from the grin on his face. "Shut it, or I'll tell everyone you fell off a ladder and were sprawled out in your backyard, helpless, until I rescued you." She finished adding cream to her coffee, then looked at him. "And that your dog likes me more than you."
"Hey, that ain't true," he protested, deliberately misunderstanding. "I like you at least as much as Clooney does." He grinned and leaned close. "Especially since you cancelled a date to hang out with me. And here you said you scare men off."
She gave him a look. "I know where to kick you."
"Aw, you'd just have to take me to the urgent care again," he teased, "and then I could file a harassment claim." He winked. "Come on, Emily, why didn't you tell me to call Reid or somebody? I would've understood."
She sighed. "Because a trip to the hospital was ultimately more interesting than a couple hours with some guy who would more than likely either wind up intimidated by a woman who carries a gun, or who would figure out soon enough what a geek I am and do the 'I've had a lovely time' routine only to never call me again." She held up a finger to keep him from saying anything. "Or worse, I could have hated him. I'd rather spend time with a friend I already know I like. I'm so sick of dating."
"You'd rather spend time with a friend who asked you to cart him around all over, including to the hospital." Morgan smiled, shaking his head. "There's a good chance I'll never really understand you." He nudged her. "Not that that's a bad thing."
"Come on, I got to read all about how to please my man, how to burn that stubborn belly fat, and what makeup tips were hot last fall," she said, then smiled faintly. "And Clooney was good company."
Derek pressed a hand against his chest in mock hurt. "And I wasn't? Man. I can see I would've gotten a better reception if I'd snuggled up against you and made you pet me."
She laughed. "Still so much to learn about women. You can never make a woman pet you."
"You mean my puppy eyes wouldn't have worked on you as well as Clooney's did?"
She eyed him for a moment. "Human boys need more than puppy eyes."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, do tell," he said, crossing his arms and grinning at her.
"Oh, you wish," she said, and started to walk back towards her desk.
"One of these days, pretty lady, you'll fall to my charms," he said, following her. "They all do." He caught Garcia talking to Reid and slid an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. "Don't you, gorgeous?" he asked, giving her a gentle squeeze.
"Of course, my dark knight," she replied. "Don't I what?"
"Find my charms irresistible," he said.
"You know it, hot stuff."
Emily snorted and kept walking.
Derek sighed. "She never believes me," he told Garcia mournfully, then squeezed her again and went back to his desk.
***
Emily had been on a lot of bad dates. A lot of bad dates. But this one was unequivocally the worst date she had been on in at least a decade. Keith Lafroy was boring, unexpectedly crude, cheap, sloppy, and--worst of all--he wouldn't take a hint. When she escaped from this date, she was going to send a very nasty email to her former college roommate, who'd set this up.
First, though, she had to escape.
"So there I was," Keith said, leaning back in his chair. "Ex-girlfriend in front of me, ex-girlfriend behind me, and current girlfriend on the other side of the room. It was a nightmare!"
Emily couldn't even summon a polite laugh, so she just sat there through his entire story. Staring at him.
Eventually, he excused himself from the table to go 'take a leak', and she gaped at his back the entire way there, then slumped against the table, her head in her hands.
"Oh my God," she groaned, and tried to come up with a plan to get out of this. After a moment, she snatched her phone out of her purse and sent Morgan a frantic text.
If you don't call me NOW, Clooney can forget those Beggin' Strips. Seriously, PLEASE. You owe me, remember?
Her phone rang what seemed like seconds after she sent the message. "Emily? What's up, do you need help?" She could hear the edge in his voice, concern that could easily become more. She'd scared him, she realized.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but you called too soon. Give me five minutes, then call back," she said, and hung up on him.
She got a text back that said, Whats goin on? Where R U?
She didn't want to answer, but from the tone of his voice, she could just imagine him rousing Garcia from what was probably a fantastic night out swing dancing with Kevin, just to track Emily's cell signal. And that would result in a very dead Derek Morgan, because Garcia took her dancing seriously. Emily couldn't have that on her conscience. Quickly she texted a reply.
Keith came back to the table and five minutes passed. Then ten. Emily was torn between cursing Morgan to the heavens and worrying what he was up to. She supposed if he decided to show up, it would still get her out of here, but he wouldn't do that. Would he? And even if he would, it meant she had to sit in Keith's presence that much longer, so Emily was right back to cursing Morgan again.
Keith was right in the middle of another boring story when he stopped and said, "Huh. That guy just keeps staring at you." He scowled. "Back the fuck off, buddy," he muttered. "She's on a date."
Oh, God, she thought, and followed Keith's gaze, then feigned surprise when she saw Morgan watching them. "Oh, hi! What are you doing here?" she said, her tone cheery, and stood in greeting, fully prepared to give him a hug and the 'friend I haven't seen in ages' routine.
Morgan's expression didn't exactly say 'friend I haven't seen in ages', though, and when he got closer, he said, "Emily! Emily Prentiss! I haven't seen you since that incredible weekend in Paris! My God, you're more beautiful than I remembered!" And as soon as those words were out of his mouth, he grabbed her and bent her backwards in what was possibly the steamiest public kiss she'd ever had.
And he was really kissing her, too. She made a surprised noise and considered her options: push him away, and possibly have Keith try to play at chivalry by attempting to shoo Morgan away, or... kiss Morgan back. After a few seconds of being totally tense in his arms, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.
Oh, that was a bad idea. Little sparks of pleasure shot through her body; it had been ages since she'd been kissed like this. She curled her fingers into his shirt, and held a whimper. When she finally focused enough to push him back, her face was burning, and she was breathless. "Hi," she panted. "Um... hi. Ah... Keith..." She pushed her hair behind her ears. "God, hi." Shut up, Emily.
"I've missed you," Morgan said quietly, not letting her pull away. "I have spent two years asking myself why I didn't marry you when I could have." He completely ignored Keith, as well as the rest of the people in the restaurant. "Do you remember the way we used to be, Em? What are you doing at a restaurant with some guy when we could be together?"
What?! Emily's brain hadn't exactly caught up with her after that kiss, and the way that Morgan was holding their bodies together didn't help. "Derek," she finally managed to whisper. She hadn't meant to whisper, but her voice was suddenly not coming out right. Her cheeks went impossibly hotter. "I thought... I thought... what about that waitress?" she asked finally as she started to get her head back. "The waitress in Milan? I thought--"
"I was stupid. Utterly stupid," Derek broke in. "I knew that as soon as you got on that plane. I was just too damn proud. Please forgive me."
She opened her mouth, staring at him, and then dredged up every last ounce of her acting ability and bit her lip, her eyes getting glassy. "Do you mean it?" she asked, her voice wavering. "Derek..." She cupped his face with her hands and kissed his lips quickly, but tenderly. "Derek, do you really mean that?"
Keith was staring at them, his mouth hanging open.
Morgan just kissed her again. She had a feeling he was getting into this a little more than he needed to be...but the thought sort of faded when one of his hands slid into her hair. He pulled away and gave her a brilliant smile, then turned to glance at Keith.
"Sorry, man, but Emily is no longer available." Then he glanced at her, looking suitably anxious. "That is...you didn't exactly say yes."
From behind her, someone called, "Hey, do it right! You oughta be down on one knee!"
She drew in a quick breath, then shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that," she said, and then grinned at him like she'd just won the lottery. "Yes! Of course I forgive you!" She thought maybe jumping into his arms was appropriate, but probably too much, so she refrained and hugged him tightly instead.
Morgan was clearly enjoying himself too much. He hummed, then murmured in her ear, "If you want me to, I'll get down on one knee. Or is he convinced?"
She kissed his jaw just to have an excuse to whisper back in his ear. "Just grab my purse and carry me out," she hissed, then looked at Keith. "I'm sorry. Keith, I--" She let out a little yelp when Morgan picked her up, as if she hadn't expected it. "I had a great time!" she called over Morgan's shoulder as he carried her out. A few people actually cheered, and by the time they were outside, she was laughing uncontrollably, her face pressed to his neck.
She could feel Morgan laughing, too. He didn't put her down as soon as they got outside, like she had expected. He kept carrying her for a while, and when he did put her down, he was wearing a sheepish expression, though his eyes were still glimmering with mischief. "It's a good thing you're not wearing a dress. I didn't even think about that when I came over on the bike."
She let out a breathy laugh, and swallowed hard. Once the contact was over, the act was over, and suddenly the way her body had responded to his felt totally inappropriate. He seemed okay, though, and he did start it, but her cheeks seemed to refuse to cool down. "Well, ah... I'm glad I didn't go all out for this date, then," she said, pushing her hair behind her ears.
His smile widened, but he just held out an extra helmet for her. "Since I interrupted your dessert, let me buy you some. Ice cream sundae sound all right to you?"
She smiled and pulled the helmet on. "Yeah, sounds good." She tilted her chin up. "This on right?"
He checked her chin strap, then, to her complete shock, leaned in and kissed her slowly. His arm slid around her waist, and she suddenly had no idea what to do. When he pulled away, he murmured, "Your date is coming this way."
She stood there, completely unable to think of anything to say. She didn't pull away though, and his nose was still brushing hers. She slid her hands up his arms and held him there. "Oh." Her thumbs stroked over his upper arms, and then she stopped them. "Um, tell me when he's gone," she whispered, feeling utterly awkward, and a little turned on.
And more than a little confused. She wanted nothing more right at this moment than for him to kiss her again, and she shouldn't want that. This was all just an act, and she'd gone too long without a real man in her life.
Morgan chuckled. "He's staring at me right now. Maybe he thinks I'm making out with someone else, now that you have a helmet on." He leaned his forehead against the helmet and made a quiet noise. "Emily Prentiss, you've seriously made my night. I haven't had this much fun in ages." He pulled away, then looked over her shoulder. A moment later he kissed her again.
God, he was a good kisser. She knew she shouldn't be melting against him, but somehow it was hard to resist. She shouldn't be leaning into him and deepening the kiss, either. She shouldn't be sliding her arms up around his shoulders again. For a moment, it all felt real too, like it wasn't an act, as his hand slid over the small of her back, and her fingertips traced over his smooth head.
God, this was bad. She pulled out of the kiss, but was reluctant to let him go. "Is he still there?"
"I wish," Morgan murmured, sounding breathless. She wasn't sure that was what he'd really said, but then she heard the car door slam and the engine start, and Morgan pulled away with an odd expression on his face.
"What?" she said breathlessly, but when his brows drew together, she shook her head. She had the ridiculous feeling she'd be disappointed if she misheard. And then her thoughts were replaced with something else entirely as she suddenly remembered why she'd texted him in the first place. "Shit," she hissed. "You shouldn't have carried me. How's your leg?"
Morgan was still studying her, but he shrugged and grinned. "It's fine. Had a whole week to heal." He pulled on his own helmet, then climbed on the motorcycle. "Come on, baby," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Let's blow this joint."
She huffed a laugh and eyed him for a moment, then slid onto his bike. Oh, this was terrible. How the hell had a few kisses that she knew didn't mean anything done this to her? She slid her arms around him, enjoying the warmth of him against a little more than she should, and settled her chin on his shoulder. "Mmm, I like me a dangerous man," she teased.
She heard him laugh. "Oh, honey, you've got no idea what you're in for." He revved the engine and covered her arm with his hand. "Hold on tight!" And he pulled out of the parking lot way faster than she thought was a good idea.
She tightened her grip on him, fingers circling her own wrists and sliding closer, then she pressed her face to the back of his shoulder and let out what could only be described as a squeal. She wasn't sure yet if she loved this or hated it, but she felt safe against Morgan's back.
After a few turns and a couple of fast take-offs, she realized he was driving fast, but not recklessly. She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up inside her. He was obviously showing off for her, and even if she knew it was just his way, she couldn't help but be flattered and amused by it. This might have been a bad idea, but it was way better than listening to Keith tell another boring story about himself.
By the time they'd pulled up outside the ice cream shop, she was grinning, and when he turned the engine off, she laughed quietly against his shoulder. She didn't pull away right away. She couldn't force herself to, but eventually she made herself to sit back. "God, I haven't ridden on a motorcycle in ages."
Morgan reached down and patted her leg. "You haven't forgotten how," he assured her. "Any time you want a ride, you just let me know. It's more fun riding with someone." He took his helmet off and looked over his shoulder at her.
She just kept smiling at him. "Sure." After a moment, she slid off the bike to let him off, then gripped his arm as she got her footing again.
Morgan steadied her, then draped an arm around her and guided her to the door, which he held for her. "Now that you've agreed to run away with me, my life is complete," he said. She knew he was teasing, but his gaze was too warm, and it made her chest ache a little bit.
She smiled back at him. "Where should we go?" she asked. "And if you say Milan, it's over. I don't like sharing."
He raised his eyebrows. "Where to run away with a woman who's seen all the glamorous parts of the world already?" he teased. "I obviously can't take you to Russia or the Middle East...Milan is out, and Paris is so cliché... I've got it. Argentina."
She laughed and reached up to squeeze the hand that was draped over her shoulder. "Ooh, let's go to the north pole!" she said after a moment. "We could take Reid to see Santa."
"I'm gonna tell him you think he's a kid," Morgan threatened, laughing. "Okay, Princess, what sort of ice cream do you want?"
"Hmm." She eyed the menu on the wall. "Butter pecan. Oh, wait, no, they have pistachio." She glanced up at him. "Pistachio. But you really don't have to buy. I was going to make Keith let me split the bill anyway. I didn't want him to think I owed him anything."
Morgan laughed. "Oh, Emily, I got to make out with you in front of a restaurant full of people. I don't think you owe me anything." He winked at her and pulled out his billfold. "Banana split for me."
"Well, but I got to make out with you too, so I'd say we were even." He handed over the money. "Except now you're buying me ice cream, so now I'm gonna have to put out," she lamented playfully. The boy behind the counter cleared his throat. She snorted and covered her mouth, then slipped out from under Morgan's arm to go get them a table.
She could see Morgan's shoulders shaking with laughter as he ordered and paid, and he was still grinning when he came over to the table a few minutes later, carrying their ice cream. He handed over her cone of pistachio, then started in on his banana split. "I think you scandalized that poor kid," he teased.
"I'm pretty scandalized myself," she said, grinning, and started on her ice cream.
"Oh, me too," he said, and winked. "So. What should we do the rest of the night to salvage your evening?"
"I don't know. A ride on a motorcycle and good ice cream is pretty nice." She sort of wanted to kiss him again, but now that the game was over, it was completely inappropriate.
"I'm very glad to hear that," he said. "I guess I could take you for another ride." He paused to lick some whipped cream off his spoon, then grinned slowly at her. "On the motorcycle, I mean."
She laughed quietly. "Sounds good to me."
Part Two