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The Man, The Myth, The Legend

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There’s a brown mug that sits on Derek’s desk. He never drinks from it but it’s there, front and center for anyone who ever enters his office to see. He’s working on a report from a recent case in Plano, Texas when there’s a slow rap at his door. 

Averting his eyes upward toward the noise, his face relaxes and the smile that appears is one that’s seen not very often — only by the woman standing in front of him. 

“Emily,” he says first, placing his pen down and turning his entire body to focus on her because when she’s in the room, in his sight, there are very few other things that he can focus on. 

“Morgan,” she responds, a smile on her face showing her beautiful teeth and illuminating her entire face. “Can I come in?” She asks with hesitance knowing that she’s always welcome in his office. He points toward the seat across from him and follows her as she approaches the chair and takes her seat. 

Derek sits back comfortably in his chair, arms over his chest with a calm expression on his face, and watches her intently. He notices the way her hair isn’t tucked behind her ear as it usually is after she cut it into bangs. He notices the way she’s trying to not bite her lip. He notices the way her eyes dart around his desk as if this were the first time she’d been in the room. 

“What brings you here?” 

Because it’d definitely not been the first time she’d been in this room. 

“Well, I’m file-less and I didn’t want to head home. Looks like you and Hotch are staying way too late for my tolerance.” Her left eyebrow rises with an entirely different meaning coming forth to her statement. I am not going to let you sit here by yourself and go home to our bed alone. That’s not happening. 

A chuckle escapes Derek, and he smiles, before holding up two files in the air. “You wanna handle these two?” She nods with a smile the way she does, turning her head slightly to the right and using her hair to cover the blush he can tell is starting to cover her cheeks. He cheekily smiles when she snatches the files from his hand, accidentally knocking over the brown mug off of the desk but not breaking it. 

“You still have this?” She’s shocked when she asks it as she picks it up from the ground. There’s disbelief in her voice and Derek wants to know just why she would think he wouldn’t have it. 

So he responds, “You think I’d just get rid of it? The man the myth the legend? Given to me by one of two people who’d ever refer to me as such? You think that low of me Prentiss?” He lets her last name slip — not out of anger but simply out of curiosity. 

There’s a soft, almost faint smile on her face as she looks at him. Her eyes are beautiful as she stares intensely into his soul as she normally does. Derek would lay himself bare over and over again if it meant he’d get to see her eyes look at him like that every day. 

“I don’t know I just-” she’s still holding the mug, staring at it in wonder. “I didn’t think you’d like it that much.” 

“Well, I like you, Emily.” He’s now looking at her with the same intensity. He’s said these exact words a million times before and yet Emily is still shocked every time she hears them — almost as if she doesn’t think she deserves a man like him when in reality it’s him who doesn’t deserve her. 

“Well Mr. Man, Myth and Legend, when you finish those files,” she stands, placing the mug back on his desk. “Do come to get me from whatever rabbit hole I may have fallen into while handling these for you,” she makes the effort of sneaking another three files into her own file and quickly exiting the room. A short Em- is heard from behind her and then cut off by the sound of Derek’s beautiful laugh. 

So there’s a mug on Derek’s desk. It reads The man, the myth, the legend. And it was given to him by the best woman he’d ever come to know.