A/N: Hello! This is a prompt fic for the Chitchat on Author's Corner forum Christmas Exchange challenge. It is written as a present for Daisyangel (hi honey!).

The assigned song title prompt and 3 prompts are: Home for the Holidays; candy canes, a Christmas play, and a gift wrapping mishap.

No warnings other than mild language and references to sexual situations. Just fluffy angst, if there is such a thing... Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Derek Morgan felt as if his brain had been taken out of his head and beaten with a baseball bat.

It was ten o'clock at night and the rest of the team were still downstairs in the hotel bar taking a well-earned breather from what had become a brutally stressful case. Morgan, however, was done for the day, although he didn't blame them for wanting to relax with a little alcohol. Their jobs were tough enough, never mind the fact that they were across the country in another time zone. And, to top it off, it was almost Christmas. Just three more days—three more days, and no hope of catching a break with this unsub.

They'd be lucky to get home by New Year's, at the rate they were going.

Morgan was used to this, or at least he'd been used to it, back before he broke his long-standing rule about not dating a co-worker. Before, away cases were no big deal—oh, he liked his house, loved his dog, and it was nice to be in familiar territory, but there wasn't anyone special back home to miss, and he was damned glad of it. The only people that were a part of his daily life were his teammates, and they usually went along on these trips.

Except for one.

One perky blonde tech goddess who typically stayed behind, providing the entire team with vital information and constant affirmation that there was someone who understood. Someone who cared about them, admired them, and was totally in their corner regardless of how horrific their work became.

Morgan had leaned on her so often, had gotten to know her so well, that she soon became a part of him. Morgan wasn't stupid—he'd seen her soul, and in any other universe, he'd have claimed her for his own long ago. But, no, given the situation? Knowing he could never offer her a "normal" relationship, knowing that the odds of him being taken out by a psychopathic killer were considerably better than that of the average person? There was no way. He'd kept an iron grip on his heart as well as his libido, determined never to hurt her, never to take what she would have gladly given, knowing that he couldn't allow himself the luxury of returning her love.

Then... Somewhere along the way, he broke. He'd watched her relationship with Kevin develop, told himself he wasn't jealous, that she deserved someone to come home to at night, every night, and that the two techies had way more in common with each other than she would ever have with him. He'd been happy for her. But when she came to his house in tears one night to tell him how sucky the relationship had become, how sick of it she was, and that she had put an end to it earlier that evening—that did it.

He wasn't stupid.

He wasn't going to let her get away from him again.

Morgan returned to his hotel room, settled in at the desk and fired up his iPad. In a matter of minutes, he had called Garcia's number and placed a request for "FaceTime" with her. It was nowhere near as good as being in the same room with her, to be able to touch her, taste her, and bury his face in her neck and inhale her, but at least it was something. Some little bit of brightness on a cold night in Oregon, thousands of miles away from the warm cozy bed they shared.

Suddenly, the pretty lady's face appeared on his screen. Morgan made no effort to hide the happy smile that overtook his expression.

"Hey, mama," he said softly.

Penelope Garcia's grin widened at his greeting. "Hey, hunka-hunka burning gorgeousness. I was hoping you'd get a chance to call."

"I made time, baby. Couldn't drop off to dreamland without hearing your beautiful voice and seeing that sweet face."

"Oh, Derek, I blush. I blush! See?" Garcia brought the camera in close, comically training it on one lightly rouge-ed cheek. Morgan laughed.

"Now, that lovely cheek looks awfully fine, but there's a couple of other sweet cheeks I wouldn't mind getting a look at before too long—"

"Derek Morgan, you're awful!" Garcia was laughing now too, but after only a moment, a serious look came over her and she sighed. "Hey—how'd today go?"

Morgan's cheerful good mood evaporated as well. "Not so great. The trail's gone ice-cold."

"I figured that after I didn't hear from anyone all afternoon." A rush of frustration welled up in her throat, and she wailed, "Damn it, Derek! I want you home! Well, I want all of you home, but especially you!"

"I want that too, baby girl."

"I know. I know you do, and I know this isn't your fault, well, apart from the fact that you happen to continue working at a job that takes you away from me more often than not, when you could be doing something else, something safe—"

"Penelope."

"...and, I know I'm just being selfish, but I can't help feeling sorry for myself when everyone else in the play will have their families and significant others there on opening night, live-and-in-person, and I'm going to have nada, zip, no one, and—"

"Penelope."

"...and, I know that awful Sherrie Mae Turner's husband is going to bring her a big giant bouquet of roses when she's not even one of the main characters, but yet she still manages to make the most trouble—"

"Sweetie—"

"Do you know she had the nerve to ask for her own dressing room? This is a community theater! We don't even have a full-sized refrigerator! And—"

"Penelope! Stop, girl, you're killing me, you know that? I don't want to be anywhere else but with you. I want to see you, I want to hold you, I want to sleep beside you, and more than anything I want to see you play Linus' sister Sally in the Charlie Brown Christmas play, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it until this bastard unsub trips up and gives us a clue as to his whereabouts! So, please..." His voice dropped down to a gentle pleading. "Please, honey-let's talk about something else. Something good."

"Oh, God—I'm sorry." A rush of shame came over her. She tried so hard, usually, to put aside her fears and to be nothing but supportive of the man she'd loved for so long. He was doing a hard job, the kind of job that only a select few were even capable of doing. He didn't need her reminding him of how difficult it was for her to stay back in Quantico, doing what often felt like nothing when he and his team were facing not only the horror of pure evil but real danger to themselves.

He didn't need to be reminded that she was alone, or of how sad that made her, of how much of their time together he was missing. Garcia shook her head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I just miss you, that's all, and sometimes the feelings get so bad, they just well up inside me and I... I just can't shut up." She peered ruefully at him across the miles, hoping he understood.

He did. Morgan wished like hell that he could take her in his arms and comfort her, run his hand up and down her back and whisper gently into her ear, but he had to settle for saying, "I'm sorry too, angel. You know how much I want to be there with you." They smiled awkwardly at each other for a moment, and then Morgan frowned and asked, "Hey, is that a bandage on your finger?"

Garcia held up her left index finger, which was swathed in gauze. "Oh, yeah. I made a boo-boo."

"Doing what? You didn't try cooking unsupervised again, did you?"

"Heck no, these hands are made for taming the mysteries of cyberspace, not cutting up a feisty zucchini. I stabbed myself wrapping your Christmas present."

"Penelope, damn. How'd you manage that?"

"Well, it's a little... unwieldy, so to speak, and I was trying to slice the paper with a knife, and I, uh—missed. It's okay though, it's just a little gouge."

"Thank goodness." Then, Morgan chuckled. "So, what did you get me?"

"Oh, right, like I'm going to tell you."

Morgan's voice dropped to a low sexy lilt. "I bet I can get you to tell." He began to unbutton his shirt.

Garcia narrowed her eyes and pointed her wounded finger emphatically at the camera. "No you can't, so don't pull that sexy stuff on me! Just because it's been over a week since we, uh..." The memory of the last time they made love flashed into her mind, taking her breath away for a second, but she recovered and continued in a stern tone. "It's a surprise, Derek Morgan, and it took me a long time to think it up, so you just leave it at that!"

"That's all right, that's all right, I can wait." Morgan finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off, making sure his abs were in full view of the camera. "There now, I'm just getting comfortable. Why don't you do the same, sweet thing?"

"Unf, Derek, no! I'm not telling you what your present is!" She forced herself to look away from her boyfriend's amazingly rippled chest and grabbed a candy cane. She busied herself with unwrapping it and then stuck it in her mouth, when an idea struck her. She smiled slyly. "But... I will give you something else to think about..." She tilted her head and made a show of sliding the red and white striped treat moistly back and forth between her full red lips, then ran her tongue slowly up, over, and around the curve of the cane. She licked her lips and did it again, leaving the candy in a slightly smeared, glistening wet condition.

Morgan watched, transfixed. "Oh, holy damn. Garcia! What are you doing to me?" he groaned hopelessly. It had been days since his sweet lover had performed a very similar, very satisfying, act on himself, and his loins tightened at the memory.

Just then, his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was Hotch. "Hold on, baby girl, something's up. Morgan here." Morgan listened, nodded, then hung up and began pulling on his shirt. "They found another body. I've gotta go, honey."

"Oh, God. I love you!"

"Love you, too." Morgan put two fingers to his lips and gestured with them toward the camera, sending his kiss on its way. He then closed the case on his iPad, ending the connection, and dashed out of his hotel room to meet the team.

It was December 23rd, opening night of the Charlie Brown Christmas play (one night only!). Garcia straightened the big blue bow in her hair and prepared to take her position on stage. She was excited and nervous, but even as she ran through her lines once more in her head, a nagging feeling of sorrow kept tugging at her from somewhere deep inside her chest.

She understood, she really, really, really understood why Derek couldn't be there to see her debut; of course she did, she was an adult. She knew perfectly well, on a cognitive level (as Dr. Reid would say), that psychopathic madmen didn't take holidays, and that there were lives at stake, and that her man was one of the key members of the team.

But...

None of that made the fact that she'd been alone for a long time—really alone, as in no parents, no siblings, few friends outside of work—any easier to bear.

The wounded child inside her didn't understand at all.

Derek Morgan had been the best part of her life for years, and she'd accepted that having him meant, well, not having him sometimes—a lot, actually. Way too often, in fact. But that was okay, that was part of it. It was just that, at times like these, she wished...

Her cue came up. Garcia took a deep breath and walked onstage. For a moment, she forgot everything else; her lines rolled perfectly from her lips, and the audience laughed appreciatively at exactly the right moments. When it was time for her to step back, she dared to take a look out into the auditorium. The lights were blindingly bright, and it really wasn't possible to make out any one person's face, but for a moment she allowed herself to imagine Derek sitting there on the front row, beaming up at her with a proud happy smile. It was a vivid image, and one she stubbornly clung to for the rest of the performance.

After all, she was an actress. She could make reality be anything she wanted, as long as she was onstage.

Curtain call. Everyone in the cast strode out together; they held hands and took a bow. It was a full house, and the applause sounded thunderous in the small auditorium. The stage lights went down and suddenly the audience was revealed to the players. A number of cast members leaned down to take flowers from their supporters in the group, all of which were pushing forward and crowding the stage. Garcia stepped back to get out of the way, determined to make her way backstage so she could get ready to go home.

Alone.

It was the quiet before the storm in the dressing room and Garcia had it all to herself. A radio was tuned to a station playing Christmas music, and "Home for the Holidays" came on. Garcia idly hummed along to the familiar lyric:

Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays

'Cause no matter how far away you roam

If you want to be happy in a million ways

For the holidays you can't beat home, sweet home*

"Yeah, right," she said out loud as she slid out of her costume. With her back to the door, she took her street clothes off a hanger and added "Home-sweet-home kind of sucks when you're the only one in it." She irritably pulled her dress over her head, then froze, startled, when a warm deep voice spoke behind her.

"Well, I have to agree, baby girl. Fortunately, the unsub gave me a little early Christmas present."

Garcia turned and gasped. Morgan stood in front of her, looking heartbreakingly dapper in a dark sport coat and black turtleneck; he had a huge bouquet of roses in one arm. The other arm was suspended in a sling. A riot of emotions crossed Garcia's face—shock, joy, then worry.

"Derek! What happened? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got shot. But, no biggie, it just grazed me. I'm fine."

Garcia was at his side in an instant. She hugged him as well as she could around the sling and the flowers, but suddenly she pulled back. Now her expression was one of pure fury.

"You got shot? And you didn't tell me? What the freakin' hell? Derek Morgan, you do not ever not call me the second you get injured, do you hear me? I don't care if it's a hangnail! My God, I can't believe you—what were you thinking? I—"

"Now, chill out. Just listen for a minute, will you?" Morgan's voice was low and soothing—he'd known this would be the reaction he'd get, and he'd decided to go ahead with the surprise anyway. "This all happened just hours ago. Reid clicked on something the rest of us had overlooked, and Hotch and I found the unsub—he managed to get one shot in before we took him down. Normally, I'd have stayed and helped deal with cleaning up the loose ends, but Hotch said..." Morgan faltered a little. He and Hotch had had their differences, but after the trauma the unit chief had survived, he had Morgan's utmost respect. "Hotch said he didn't want anyone on the team to make the kinds of mistakes he'd made in his relationship. He said he and Rossi could handle all the details, and he sent the rest of us home." He pulled Garcia to him with his good arm and kissed her deeply. "Home for the holidays, baby. The only place I want to be."

Garcia stared into his eyes for a moment, then a smile tugged at her lips. "Okay, hot stuff. I'll let you get away with it this once. But, if you wait to tell me you got hurt ever again—I'll mess you up, but good." She burrowed into the crook of his neck, and he squeezed her tightly.

"Yes, ma'am." They held each other for a long moment, then the other actors started streaming in, talking and laughing. Garcia hastily finished dressing, and then she and Morgan slipped out of the dressing room, headed to Garcia's car. Once outside, they found that a light smattering of snow had begun to fall. Morgan paused and lay the bouquet in her arms. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"You were fantastic in the play, baby. I loved seeing you up on that stage."

Garcia smiled delightedly. "Did you see the whole thing?"

"I got seated just before you came on. That's why I didn't call you ahead of time. I didn't know if I'd be able to get a cab, or if we'd make it at all, with traffic being like it is."

"Yeah." Garcia glanced around, enjoying the dusting of snow that was beginning to accumulate all around them. She took a deep whiff of the fragrant flowers in her arms, and then looked up at Morgan with an expression of wonder. For a moment, she looked like a little girl. "I can't believe you're home. Home for the holidays—it's a Christmas miracle!"

"Naw, Reid's the damn miracle. If it wasn't for him, we'd still be sitting around in the cold Northwest, twiddling our thumbs and waiting for another body to turn up."

Garcia gently laid her hand on Morgan's wounded arm. "Thank God you weren't hurt any worse."

Morgan took her hand and brought it to his lips. He looked at her thoughtfully. "You know, when that bullet hit me, all I could think of was you. There was this split second where I thought..." His voice trailed off and Garcia frowned.

"You thought what?"

He took a deep breath. "I thought, I don't want my last vision of you to be on a computer screen. I don't want to go if I can't hold you in my arms one last time." Morgan's somber expression turned mischievous. "Then, I realized it was just a flesh wound and I cheered up. But... it just goes to show how much in love I am with you, girl. The last time I got hurt on the job, my first thought was, 'Who's going to take Clooney?'"

Garcia laughed. "Well, I'm glad to hear I rate a little higher than the pooch. Come on, gorgeous—let's go home."

And, after negotiating the busy holiday traffic, they did exactly that.

Christmas Eve. Garcia and Morgan had spent a few hours at Rossi's house—he'd organized a last-minute Christmas get-together, with food and egg nog and presents for each of them. It was nice to have the gang together before everyone scattered to be with their families. Even Reid was off to catch a flight to Vegas.

Now, they were back home, snow falling steadily outside, seated on the floor in front of a fire looking at the Christmas tree Garcia had lovingly decorated. Morgan had been beyond impressed with the holiday makeover she'd done on the house. Somehow, she'd managed to take a few bags of fake garland and department store ornaments and turned the house into a welcoming winter wonderland.

Morgan gave Garcia her gift—a gold charm bracelet with charms from all the cities they'd been to together. "Every town feels like home as long as you're there," Morgan said after he'd kissed her.

"Yeah. I think so too." She put it on, letting Morgan work the clasp for her. She held it out, admiring the way the flames of the fire lit up the gold on her wrist.

After a moment, Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Now, I don't want to be pushy, but I seem to recall you mentioning that you had a gift for me, too, right? Hand it over, girl, I'm wounded."

Garcia smirked. "You're not very wounded, judging by your behavior in bed last night."

"All right, but I'd think that would put me in the extra-good little boy category, which means I get a present. So, where is it?"

"Guess."

"Well, let's see—you haven't let me go into the den since I got home. I bet it's in there."

"You're so clever! Come on."

Garcia led him to the den and opened the door, letting him step in first. He saw a huge wrapped present with a big red bow in the middle of the room, and he looked back at Garcia inquiringly. "What the hell is that?"

"Open it, silly."

Morgan went to it and began pulling the paper away from the object inside. When it was revealed, he stepped back and stared at in in consternation.

"A recliner? Babe, I work out. I run. I keep my body in top physical condition. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this is kind of—"

"Shh." Garcia put a finger on his lips. "I knew you'd say that. But, look, it's not just any old recliner. It's magic!" Garcia led him to the leather chair and pushed him into it. She lifted a remote hanging on the side and punched a series of buttons and before Morgan had a chance to protest further, he made an involuntary groan of ecstasy as the mechanical massager truly did begin to work magic on his lower back.

"Oh, my God," he gasped. "That's incredible!"

"Oh, it gets better." Garcia made the chair recline and climbed up to straddle her boyfriend's hips. "It also vibrates!" She punched another button and a low hum sounded as the chair came to life, sending waves of pleasurable sensations through Morgan's body; they were made doubly sensuous by Garcia offering delicious counterpoint with her movements above him. She leaned down and kissed him slowly; he put his hands on her hips and guided her to just the right spot for maximum effect.

"Damn, woman." Morgan moaned as he worked his hips upwards against her. "This is... a great present."

"Yeah, I thought so." Garcia abruptly hopped off and began undressing; Morgan did the same, and then they climbed back into the warm soft depths of the magical reclining chair and made full use of it.

Afterwards, they snuggled together, drained of all tension. Morgan held Garcia securely under his good arm with her cheek pressed against his chest. He stroked her hair and sighed happily, then tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes.

"Now, this is what I call 'face time.'"

Garcia laughed. "Yeah. Lots better than staring at a computer screen, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"No place like home for the holidays, huh, sugar?"

"Absolutely. Now, I have a question—how do I smuggle this chair onto the BAU jet?"

"Uh-uh. It stays here. One more reason for you to come home."

Morgan gently pushed a strand of golden hair out of her eyes. "I already have the only one I need—you. Merry Christmas, baby."

Garcia's throat tightened; it was hard to speak, but she just managed "Merry Christmas—I love you, too," before having to deal with the flood of tears that threatened to break free. Morgan laughed, both touched and amused and a little surprised at the tears that appeared in his own eyes as he felt her fight to contain her emotions.

They kissed softly. As he contentedly settled in, Morgan gathered her even closer and looked around the quiet room.

God, he was glad to be home.

-The End-

*"Home for the Holidays," written by Robert Allen, Al Stillman