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It was day four, and Garcia’s lair was beginning to look more like a dumpster than her usual zone of nerdiness and tranquillity. Garcia's desks were covered with scattered files, empty coffee mugs, and cup noodles. Slumping back in your chair, you groan, head thrown back in a fit of dramatics. “This is going nowhere, Pen.” You sigh, turning to look at the defeated blonde who let out a fake sob as her forehead hit the keyboard. “I hate that you’re right,” she mutters, lifting her head to look at you. “I just don’t understand what we’re missing.” The whine in her voice tugs at your heart; knowing that this case was hitting her particularly hard, you wanted nothing more than to figure it out.
Letting out a long exhale, you pull yourself up, stretching your arms out and cracking your neck. “Let’s look at what we know,” you say, closing several windows to pull up the initial profile. “The Unsub is between 25 and 35, has a scar across his eye and was spotted fleeing in a pickup with Missouri plates…” you suck in a breath “Tara mentioned the killings seemed personal, right?” you ask, the words punctuated by your fingers flying across the keys.
“Yeah… why?” Penelope mumbles, her head rising only slightly to eye the screen.
“I think we’ve been looking at this wrong,” you say, deleting the old search parameters; “we just assumed he was from Missouri, or at the very least the surrounding areas…” You could hear her straightening in her seat and fixing her glasses, the familiar roll of her chair wheels as she scoots closer. “That’s because the victims had all been in Springfield in the past two weeks...”
“Exactly, maybe our Unsub saw them there but knew them from before?” It was a stretch, but it was the first idea you’d had in hours. “Let’s assume he’s from Tacoma, same as the victims, add our known features... And…. Bingo!”
One match found.
Neither of you could believe it. Daniel Hunt, 27, born in Tacoma, relocated to Springfield at age 14 after an undisclosed incident at school. “Look! He was in the same class as both of our victims, I can’t believe you found it!” she squealed. As you turn to face her, you jump at the feeling of hands sliding up to cup your face, only stilling when plump lips press against yours.
Despite your shock, you’re quick to kiss her back, resting your own hands on her thighs, enjoying the feeling of her lace tights under your fingers. An alert ping sends your chairs rolling back, both of you staring at the other in surprise. “Well,” you cough, “that’s one way to celebrate.” You smile shyly, tapping the keyboard to silence the interruption. Penelope’s silence unnerves you, her fingers graze her lips as she gazes at you thoughtfully.
While she loses herself in thought, you forward your new find to the team; with any luck, they’ll find him and be on their way home soon.
“I kissed you,” she whispers, not quite able to believe what she’d done, “like actually, kissed you…” Her eyes finally meet yours, expecting to see anger or upset but instead you’re smiling at her with that megawatt smile she loves so much. “If we’re being honest,” you slowly drag your chair towards her, “I was hoping you’d kiss me.”
“Really?” Her voice is small against the various buzzing sounds that fill the room, you only nod as you reach out to grip the arms of her chair, pulling her closer. “And maybe if I’m lucky, you’d be willing to kiss me again?” Your knee slips between hers, making her squeak. Up close, you pause to appreciate the detail in her makeup and the striking, unconventional hairstyles that consistently amaze you. Penelope Garcia had always been the bright spark of the BAU.
Your smile only grows when she leans forward to capture your lips once more, only this time she moves slowly, resting one hand on the back of your neck, playing with the loose curls from your bun. Penelope smiles when she pulls back and asks, “how does dinner tonight at my place sound, Angel?”
“Sounds perfect.”