Work Text:
Penelope Garcia loved Luke Alvez. She loved his unassuming smile, his patience, the way he spoke to Roxy as if she were a person, with a serious tone of voice and detailed arguments about why she couldn't do certain things. But of all things, there was one that she liked the most: Luke Alvez was the embodiment of predictability when it came to everyday habits, especially during something as mundane as shopping.
One weekend afternoon, they parked up at the local market, ready to stock up. In the passenger seat, Penelope squinted at Luke, and almost let out a mischievous smile when he switched off the engine and let out a soft sigh - a ritual he did every time, as if mentally preparing himself to face the chaos of the crowded aisles. Penelope could hardly contain herself with excitement at the little trick she had secretly prepared: Luke's Big Bingo. Each square of the handmade chart had something she was sure Luke would do during the trip to the market.
As soon as they entered the market, Luke picked up a trolley, tilting it slightly to check if one of the wheels was stuck - and Penelope pulled out the notebook from her handbag (Luke, believing it was just a shopping list, didn't ask anything). Very discreetly, she ticked one of the squares: check the wheels of the supermarket trolley. Satisfied, he pushed it forwards with that confident, practical manner that Penelope found inexplicably charming. Before he started walking down the aisles, he turned to her, casually leaning an elbow on the trolley handle, and looked at her with that charming smile that made his jaw even more attractive than it already was.
"Ready?" he asked.
"I was born ready, sweetie", she replied with a twinkle in her eyes. After all, if she knew Luke as well as she thought she did, she wouldn't have to wait long before ticking another square.
The first stop was the fruits and vegetables section. Penelope pretended to be interested in apples as she watched Luke inspect an avocado with the seriousness of someone examining a crime scene. He pressed lightly on the skin, lifted the avocado into the fluorescent light of the market and frowned.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait a few more days to buy avocados?" he said, putting the avocado back and choosing another, repeating the process of scrutinising it.
After a while, he shook his head in frustration and muttered more to himself than to Penelope: "I can't. They're all too green. We'll come back in two days." With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a failed mission, he carefully placed the avocado back in the pile, almost as if he were returning a precious object to its original place.
Penelope, unnoticed, ticked off a second square on her bingo card: Choosing fruit as if he were solving a case.
In the pet treats section, Luke made his classic move, which Penelope had anticipated before they even reached the aisle. Without hesitation, he reached out for a packet of grilled chicken-flavoured dog biscuits and tossed it into the trolley with a casual, almost automatic gesture. He didn't even have to look at the packet.
"Luke!" Penelope exclaimed, feigning indignation. "You didn't even ask me if Roxy really needs this!"
"Garcia", he said, raising an eyebrow, "Roxy always needs biscuits. It's a basic need, like water, air, food and unconditional love."
Penelope snorted, trying to keep her expression serious, but she couldn't help the smile that escaped. He was right, of course. Roxy, with her adorably pouty eyes and tail wagging with delight whenever she saw Luke, had everyone in the palm of her paw. "Oh, is that so? So now you're an expert in canine physiology too?"
"I'm an expert on Roxy", he replied proudly, picking up the packet and giving it a gentle shake before putting it back in the pram. "And that's more than enough."
As Luke turned to scan another shelf, Penelope looked at the notebook again, smiling for the page. He was so predictable - and so irresistible - that she could almost feel her heart melt.
Another square crossed off: Putting a treat for Roxy in the trolley without asking.
When they reached the shelf of scented candles, Penelope was immediately drawn to a new fragrance called Tropical Lavender and Vanilla Night. It was as if the glass was calling out to her, shimmering under the market lights with promises of relaxing evenings and an exotic feel in the air. She held the candle carefully, bringing it close to her face to inhale deeply. Her eyes lit up with instant approval.
"Ah, Luke! This smells as if an expensive spa and a five-star bakery had fallen in love and decided to make a scented baby!" she exclaimed, already leaning over to put it in the pram.
But before she could let go, Luke intercepted her movement with a firm look and a hand raised like a policeman about to issue a warning. "Garcia, really? We have a cupboard full of candles that you bought and never used. Remember the last one? The one... Desert Breeze or whatever?"
Penelope raised an eyebrow, offended on several levels. "It was Sandalwood and Ocean Mist, Luke. And just for the record, it was your mistake, because it's not my fault that you never appreciate a cosy-smelling house!"
He laughed, shaking his head, clearly already defeated before he even began to argue. "I'm not saying I don't like it, I'm just saying we don't need any more candles. We have enough in stock to light up a national blackout."
"That, Mr. Rationality, is a very limited perspective. Each candle is a unique experience. And I refuse to be limited in my right to create a perfect aromatic ambience!"
Without waiting for another word, she placed the candle on the trolley with one decisive movement, giving a small triumphant smile as she did so. Luke rolled his eyes. Penelope checked off another square: Saying we don't need any more candles.
In the cereal section, Luke picked up two different boxes and looked at them as if he were facing a decision that could change the course of history. One was his usual choice, an infallible classic, while the other displayed an eye-catching package with a tempting new flavour.
"Why do they always do this to me?" he muttered, more to himself than to Penelope, but loud enough for her to hear.
"Do what, love?" Penelope asked, her voice laden with a theatrical sweetness. She already knew exactly where it was going, but she loved watching the process.
"They put a new flavour next to my favourite. Look at that!" He held up the boxes so she could see them better, as if he were presenting evidence in court. "How do I know if Strawberry Stardust Surprise is as good as Cosmic Caramel Crunch? You can't risk breakfast like that, Penelope. It's a sacred moment!"
The level of seriousness he put into something so trivial made her love him even more. As he continued his meticulous analysis, turning over the boxes to compare nutritional information that clearly didn't interest him, with an evil grin, she crossed out the square marked Be in doubt between two flavours of cereal. It was almost painful how predictable he was, but in such an adorable way that she never tired of it.
When she finally turned to him again, Luke was still holding the boxes, his gaze fixed on them as if waiting for some magical answer to emerge.
"Luke", she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side with a complicit smile, "why don't you just take both? That way you can decide which is better without putting all the weight of the universe on one choice."
He looked at her, as if the idea was revolutionary. "Two boxes? Hm, that makes sense." He put them both in the trolley with a satisfied nod, clearly proud of the solution.
In the cleaning products section, Luke stopped in front of the detergent shelf, examining the options with a concentrated expression. After a few seconds, he picked up a packet of multi-purpose detergent that promised to clean even the most stubborn stains. He turned the bottle over in his hands to check the price and, on seeing it, let out a low whistle, laden with disbelief.
"Twelve dollars for this?" He held up the packaging as if he were showing irrefutable proof of some kind of global conspiracy. "Do they think it's made of gold? Or that it'll, I don't know, wash the dishes by itself and still make coffee?"
Penelope, who was off to the side picking out coloured sponges, had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud. He did it every time - no matter what the product, there was always something he considered absurdly expensive, as if he were taking part in some kind of surprise financial audit. With a casual movement, but her eyes sparkling with mischief, Penelope ticked another square on the bingo board: Complain about the price of something. She gave a satisfied smile, thinking about how Luke was predictable in a comforting, almost charming way.
"You know", she began, trying to maintain a neutral tone as she put a sponge in the trolley, "that nobody is forcing you to buy the gold detergent, right? There's always the generic brands."
Luke turned to her, feigning indignation, but the corner of his lips was already threatening to form a smile. "Generic? Are you suggesting that I compromise the impeccable cleanliness of our kitchen?"
"I'm suggesting that maybe you don't need to question the world economy every time you find a high price", she replied, arching an eyebrow as she put another sponge in the trolley.
He snorted, put the detergent back on the shelf with an exaggerated gesture and chose a cheaper option. But as they walked down the next aisle, she realised that he was still muttering something about the 'injustices of capitalism’ and ‘cleaning the kitchen like you clean a crime scene’, which only made her enjoy the game she had created even more.
Finally, after filling the trolley with everything they needed - and several things they definitely didn't need, but which Penelope had argued were absolutely essential for the happiness of the household - they arrived at the checkout. The queue seemed endless, full of people with overflowing trolleys and children running around in circles while exhausted parents tried to keep control.
Luke stopped next to the trolley, observing the scene with a mixture of resignation and incredulity. He ran his hand through his hair, as if searching for patience somewhere unseen, and let out a long sigh.
"Why does everyone decide to go shopping on the same day?" he asked, more to himself than to Penelope, but his voice carried the dramatic weight of someone facing an existential crisis.
Penelope bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, her shoulders already beginning to shake with the effort of holding back. It was so classic of him, just as she had predicted. With discreet movements and a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, she crossed out another bingo square: Sigh at the sight of the checkout queue. Then she realized that she had completed a row. She looked at Luke, who was still analysing the queue as if trying to find a strategic way out that no one else had noticed, and she couldn't hold back any longer. A loud laugh escaped, attracting the attention of a few people nearby.
"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, but unable to hide the small smile that was already threatening to appear at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, my sweet Luke", she replied, shaking her head and still laughing. "I was bingo-ing you".
She turns the notebook over to him, proudly showing him her handwritten table. As he approached a little more and saw his girlfriend's work, Luke's eyes widened in shock.
"Penelope!" He exclaimed in disbelief.
"What? You're predictable in an absolutely adorable way!"
"Predictable?" He arched an eyebrow, his eyes narrowed while seeing the bingo grid, with a row of diagonally marked squares. "A bingo? Really, Garcia?" He looked at her, torn between feigned indignation and genuine amusement.
"Not just a bingo. Luke's Big Bingo!", she confirmed with a proud smile. "And I completed a row! Congratulations to us, newbie!"
Luke shook his head, laughing, as he handed the notebook back to her. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"I'm just unpredictable, unlike you, sweet boyfriend of mine".
Luke just smiled and shook his head, and the queue at the market suddenly seemed less unbearable.