Chapter Text
Speculations flew across the room as the members of the sleuthing round table started to build the profile of this week's embodiment of evil.
Garcia, looking fantastic as always, stood at the front of the room, trying not to look at the gory images tainting her screen. She chose, instead, to focus on the serious but savvy individuals seated in front of her.
“Was there evidence of sexual assault?” Rossi asked, in his deep timbre. The way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach and Rossi made italian that was fuori di questo mondo. If he wasn’t almost twice her age and taken, she would be all over that dish of a man.
“No, but there is plenty of other unsettling things to tickle your profiling fancy.” Garcia replied, clicking a button on her remote and bringing up another round of rot. “The M.E. in Houston found dried semen on the victim's clothing.”
“Which means he could be performing the act of sex with them post- or ante-mortem.” The Good Doctor speculated.
She could practically hear the wheels turning in his noggin as his nimble fingers picked through the pages, reading through the information in the time that it would take her to press print.
‘Oh, how much information must there be between those two ears,’ she wondered.
“The wound on the back of her head suggests that the unsub is not confident enough to pick up women,” Blake and her smarticle particles contributed. She was new to their little crew but she was proving herself to be the epitome of girl power.
“It was a blitz attack. He doesn’t have the social skills or the confidence to lure the women back to his killzone.” Her chocolate thunder added. There were no words to describe the magnificence that was her man candy: brains, brawn, and a beautiful body forged by the gods.
“He’s devolving, three women in two weeks, with increased time between abductions. Local law enforcement has invited us in but the community is not as receptive to outside help as we would hope. We can’t be stepping on their toes, but we have a job to do.” Hotch said, authoritatively. “Wheels up in twenty.”
He pushed back from the round table, like a knight going into battle, and marched out of the room with his soldiers of good on his heels.
Blake and Rossi went to collect their go-bags, experienced enough to know not to make plans on a Friday night in this line of work.
JJ took out her phone and after dialing Will, left the room. Garcia knew from the look on her homegirl’s face she had to be canceling some well deserved ‘we-time’ with her hubby.
Reid, who had been tangled up in his thoughts, let out a curse. In his haste to pack up, the less than coordinated Doctor had given himself a papercut. She looked up from her laptop at the sound, where she was wiping the faith-in-humanity destroying images from her screen.
Morgan and Garcia watched as the beautiful genius sucked the tip of his finger. Morgan was definitely enjoying the show. His full lips were parted and Garcia wasn’t sure that he was breathing. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of him, and Garcia couldn’t take her eyes off of Morgan. It was like a linear staring contest.
Reid flushed when he looked up and saw them staring. His lips released the finger with a pop. “Papercut,” he explained.
Morgan cleared his throat. “Want me to kiss you and make it better, pretty boy?” He said, smirking a smirk that wasn’t as smirky as his normal smirk. Garcia was familiar with his smirk, and knew that this one was shaky at best.
Could this be? Could her ship finally, the ship she thought was so far out at sea she’d never see it dock, be coming in? She’d hoped, she’d dreamed, but she never thought that it would happen before her very eyes, and be heard by very fortunate ears.
“Isn’t the phrase ‘kiss it and make it better’?” Garcia questioned, jumping at the opportunity to push the two of them in the right direction, towards one another.
“Hmm?” Morgan said, looking at her for the first time since Reid had started his tease act. Morgan was probably glad there was a table covering the proof of his attraction for the walking encyclopedia.
“You said ‘kiss you,’ not ‘kiss it’,” Garcia restated, with a twinkle in her eye.
She could see it, the moment he realized what had slipped out of his sweet lips. He tried to laugh it off but his chuckle sounded strangled.
There was a flash of panic in his dreamy eyes, and then the mask came back down like the iron gate of an insecure fortress.
“Same difference.” Morgan backpedaled.
He gave Reid a quick and timid look, if any look that man gave could be called timid. Reid was too busy studying the crime scene photos to notice. He tossed a thinly veiled glare at Garcia that spoke of what was to come from her meddling. She had no doubt in her lovely mind that it was one hundred percent worth it.
He stood up and quickly slung his go-bag over his muscular chocolaty chest. In his haste to escape the awkward situation he’d accidentally created, Morgan didn’t have a chance to realize leaving Reid alone with Garcia was a bad idea.
“Reid, my darling?”
“Mmhmm,” Reid murmured. She waited for him to look up from the folder.
“Are you familiar with the concept of a Freudian slip?” Garcia asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, though her fluffy matchmaking butterflies were fluttering up a storm in her stomach.
“Freudian slip, also known as parapraxis, a conscious action that reveals an unconscious desire.” Reid spouted off. “It’s an interesting idea to entertain. I’m not sure if I believe it. Freud, though a revolutionary thinker during his time, is becoming less and less credible.” Reid said, tucking his folder into his messenger bag.
“Hmm,” Garcia pretended to contemplate what he’d just said. “Do you think Morgan’s familiar with the Freudian Slip?”
“Probably, but I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.” Reid said, standing up. She gathered her trinkets and her gadgets and followed him out of the room.
The clueless genius made his way to his section of the bullpen. The all-knowing goddess strutted back to her lair of knowledge, willing the universe to bring her beautiful babies together. Or to give her the strength to shove them in the right direction.
________________
“Hey, baby girl. I need you to do that beautiful thing you do for me.” Morgan’s honey-toned voice said through the speakerphone on her desk, lighting up her office.
“Sugar, I do so many beautiful things, but most are out of the question with you being so far away.” Garcia said twirling her feather pen, leaning back in her spinny chair. She felt like a teenager when they talked like this. Like she was sitting on her bed, twirling the cord of the phone and smiling at her ceiling.
“I need you to look up all white males within a thirty mile radius that have outstanding mortgage payments. Call me back when you have the list.” Morgan hurried, racing to get off the phone.
“Wait!” She said, sitting up.
“What?” He sighed. “I’m in a hurry.”
“No, you aren’t. If this was urgent, Hotch would be calling me.” Garcia said, rolling her eyes. She leaned back in her seat. “So, how are things? Proclaim any pent up desires while you’ve been away? Or are you both still pining and denying?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan denied, but she knew that she was getting through to him.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. How long have you had the hots for the doc?” Garcia dug her nails in.
“It was just a slip. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Morgan denied again. Garcia wasn’t having it.
“Sure, you didn’t. I totally believe you. You totally didn’t drool when you saw him sucking that finger. And you totally didn’t imagine what else he could be sucking. I believe you.”
“Penel-” He tried to say but she cut him off.
“I’ll send you everything I find. Okay. Give everyone my love, and give Reid yours.” She hung up before he could say anything else, with a smile on her face.