AN: To all those who voted for me in the Profiler's Choice Awards: Thank you so much! I am humbled, honored and thrilled by your support...As for this story...it's rather light and fluffy, and I love it. It's what I need right now...So, here we go before the next huge epic...Not sure if this will be M or T in the long run (I miss writing sex LOL)...

Chapter 1

Derek couldn't believe where he was standing at the moment, or what he was planning to do. It seemed absolutely ridiculous, completely moronic, and positively insane.

And all because of a stupid grilled cheese sandwich maker.

All in all, it had a little bit more to do with the conversation he'd had with his best friend about said Sandwich-O-Matic, but the bottom line was, it had gotten him where he was at the moment.

Standing outside of Kevin Lynch's office.

Waiting to give him advice on how to woo Penelope.

Derek hung his head and shook it in disbelief as he recalled lunch the day before...

Penelope walked into Gretchen's Mexican Cafe and Deli, a little less spring in her step than Derek was used to seeing. She always bounded in, like a gazelle on platform high heels, with a smile on her face and jingling bangles on her wrists.

She walked up to the table, plopped down with a sigh, and removed her sunglasses, before smiling at him. "Hi, Hot Stuff."

"What's wrong?"

She was about to take a bite of a homemade tortilla chip loaded with guacamole. This was a frequent luncheon haunt of theirs; Derek knew what to order her to drink and what appetizer to have waiting.

Giving him a curious look, she echoed, "Wrong? What do you mean, wrong?"

Derek only arched a brow at her.

Penelope huffed and placed her uneaten chip down. She crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you always know that?"

"You came in, thirty miles an hour instead of sixty, your smile isn't as radiant—" he leaned a bit closer and placed a finger under her chin, raising her face for his inspection "—and your pretty blue eyes are in danger of becoming purple from the red in them."

He could tell she was fighting a smile...rather unsuccessfully. "Sometimes I hate you."

"Well, I love you," he drawled, "so that evens it out."

After watching her blush prettily and smile again, this time far more Penelope-like, Derek began perusing his menu. He wasn't worrying as much, starting to concentrate on food—he was a man, after all. He'd made it past Ensalada and Sopa, when he felt her studying him. He glanced up from the menu.

Her elbows were on the table, her cute little face in her hands and her smile wistful. "Derek...why can't you be my boyfriend?"

Derek hadn't heard that anything was wrong in the Lynch department—other than the obvious, he thought with dry humor—so he knew she didn't mean it the way that it sounded. She needed his friendship, as always, and a good ear.

He set his menu down and looked at her. "Okay, baby. Spill. What happened?"

"It was my anniversary with Kevin," she said.

Derek knew that date all too well. It was just over four years after she'd been shot, one of the worst moments in his life. He'd almost lost her then, a thought that made a shiver run down his spine even now.

"Yeah, I know."

"I was so excited. I planned dinner, and we were going to exchange presents afterward." She paused and looked at Derek pointedly, asking, "Do you know what he got me?"

Derek didn't say a word. He knew this wasn't going to be good. Lynch was a notoriously bad gift giver. He truly had no romance in him at all. Derek couldn't fault the dude; Lynch hadn't had one ounce of the dating experience he'd had. In the four years Lynch had been dating Pen, he'd given her all sorts of appliances...and not sexy ones to use in the bedroom.

"A grilled cheese sandwich maker."

Derek winced and tried really hard not to smile...but failed as miserably as Penelope had earlier.

"Oh, not just ANY sandwich maker," Penelope said in a glorious, dramatic fashion. "A Sandwich-O-Matic, one that he saw on an infomercial. He was so excited because it came with a french fry slicer."

"Not digging grilled cheese?" Derek asked nonchalantly. They'd laughed about this topic before—Lynch's rotten gifts—and...

What happened next, he wasn't expecting at all. He watched as P's face crumbled. Tears spilled out of her eyes, and she reached for her napkin. She immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry...I...I..."

"Baby," he said, at an uncharacteristic loss of words. He moved his chair to the other side of the table and wrapped his arms around her.

That seemed to intensify the waterworks, so he held her and mumbled soothing words.

"Derek, I just can't understand."

"What, angel?" he asked.

"Other girls get great gifts...flowers, perfume," she said softly. "What is wrong with me that I don't rate those kind of gifts? Maybe if I were more delicate, or more—"

"Oh, hell no," he interrupted quickly. "This has nothing to do with you, Penelope."

She sniffled and sat up. "Well, thank you, but I wonder. I mean... I love him, D, but he..."

"Hello, you two!" the waitress said, coming up to the table and interrupting their conversation. "Do you know what you'd like?"

Penelope hadn't talked any more; Derek hadn't pushed her, either. Her sad look had stayed with him throughout lunch, when he'd worked out after work, and when he'd gone to bed that night. A few words had rung through his head...about how she'd thought she wasn't the right kind of girl. It had reminded him of something he'd tried very hard to forget...

I'm not the girl men see across a smoky bar and write songs about.

She'd said that to him, right before she'd accepted that fateful date with Battle. He'd thought she'd come so far from that, the insecurity and the self-doubt. He'd done that to her, and he couldn't forgive himself. To see her suffering with that because of Lynch's inadequacies angered him. He wanted to sock the little bastard in the face, and then shake him up a time or two for good measure.

Yet, she'd said she loved him...and she usually seemed quite happy with him. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted her to have the self-esteem she deserved. She'd do it for him, he knew it. They loved each other that way.

Which lead Derek to where he was right now.

Fuck.

He raised his hand and rapped sharply on the door.