Work Text:
He didn’t know how Penelope had wrapped him into this. But here he was, 2 in the morning at an IHOP of all places for waffles and doughnuts that were going to wreak havoc with his diet. But the extra calories were definitely worth it with Penelope’s broad and giddy smile. He couldn’t imagine what Penelope was going through after Battle shot her. He’d almost lost her, lost the chance to see her smile again, lost the chance to hear her quirky greetings. Of course, he sat in front of her, unnaturally early in the morning, laughing as she asked him to feed her, trying to ignore how she had smiled at Kevin earlier that week. Right here, as he fed her doughnuts underneath artificial lights, Kevin didn’t exist. The BAU didn’t exist. He was just Derek Morgan and she was just Penelope Garcia. And they were just best friends. A few weeks ago, it wouldn’t have hurt him so much to say that.
His gaze fell on Penelope’s lips, her bottom lip slightly stained from the strawberry glaze and he handed her the doughnut, using his clean thumb to wipe at her bottom lip, painfully aware of how that was probably the closest he would come to them. Penelope smiled broadly, absolutely oblivious to him until fear crossed her gaze immediately as her eyes slid over to the front of the diner, a young man, about the same age as Battle, barged in, slamming the glass doors behind him, a submachine gun gripped tightly in his right hand, a duffel bag hanging on his slim build.
Derek’s gaze followed hers, pinning on the man and instantly, Agent Morgan had unholstered his gun quietly, murmuring at Penelope to slide carefully under the table while the unsub locked the door, yelling at the waitress who simply ducked away into the back of the store.
“Hey, man,” Derek started, his voice as smooth as it could go, concealing every last vestige of fear. “We can sort this out, just put the gun down, man.” But the man had already noticed the empty holster hanging on Derek’s hip, deducing a gun in hand so he just pointed the gun at him, forcing Derek to duck behind a table, his gaze falling on a terrified Penelope. He had to get her out of here. It was his only priority, but his heart leapt in his throat as Penelope shrieked, the man’s hand landing on her ankle and pulling her out from under their table.
He should have shot him, Derek cursed, as his eyes glanced between booths at the man with his best friend’s life in hand. He stood slowly, his hands up in surrender as the unsub’s gun was held next to Penelope’s waist. Derek’s eyes slipped to Penelope’s tears. No, no, no, no, his head screamed. She was with him, she was supposed to be safe, he was supposed to protect her. He had to protect her. Without her, who was he?
“Let me make one thing very clear,” Derek said, lowering his gun to the unsub’s eye level. “You hurt her, this is your last day on earth. I will ruin your life. Drop the gun, everyone goes free.” If there was one thing Derek knew, it was the moment right before the storm. He easily recognised the look of set determination on every unsub’s face. The ones determined to go out in a blaze of glory. And the second that moment flashed on the unsub’s face, Derek fired twice, lodging a bullet right between the man’s eyes before leaping over the booth to clasp Penelope’s body to his, tucking his face into her blonde hair, breathing in her scent in relief as she sobbed into his shoulder. She was safe. She was in his arms. She was safe. He protected her. She was safe.