A Scandalous Pair
The only reason the whole BAU didn't know was because she had all the gossips sewn up tight in their own nets. And David Rossi was exceedingly grateful for that, because for once he was allowed to romance a woman privately.
Not that she was just any woman. Heaven forbid he classify her with his other wives and various indiscretions over the years. First off, she would kill him. And not quickly. She'd empty his bank accounts, then ruin his credit. He'd lose rights to his books. The pound would take the dog and the bank would take the house. All of these things would become hers. Then she'd call his mother, and together they would do the deed of killing him, with the strong-armed assistance of Hotch and Morgan to do the wet work and disposal.
No, Penelope Garcia failed to be just any woman.
When she'd come in the conference room his first day back, taken one look at the screen, and covered her eyes yelping. "Is it gone? Is it gone?" he'd fallen head over teakettle. She was a bird of paradise flower in a garden of lilies and black-eyed Susans. The sheer color around her was incredible.
He was no sloucher. As soon as they were back he marched to her lair, knocked, and when she opened the door he had asked "Will you go to dinner with me?" without even a hello.
She had slammed it in his face. He continued to talk through the door.
"If I promise the behave? Please?"
"Go away, Agent I-Have-A-Reputation-That-Lasted-Past-My-Retirement-And-Into-The-Digital-Age."
"Are you calling me old?"
"No, I'm calling you a dinosaur. That's past old, and into fossilized."
"No fair. I can't fight when I can't see your face."
"I thought you wanted to take me to dinner, not fight."
"I do, but you called me a fossil and slammed the door in my face. How about just a dinner to get to know each other? Like friends?"
"I know about all your lady friends, Rossi."
"I know that."
"Then why are you still on the other side of the door?"
"Because I'm a profiler. I profile that I have changed some through three divorces. I profile that you aren't like any woman I've ever gone out with before. And I'd like to stop confessing my overwhelming attraction to a smart, curvy, downright beautiful woman through her office door and do it to her face, if it meets with her approval."
She opened the door and looked him over, hard.
"People will talk, Agent Rossi."
"I'm used to it."
"I'm not."
"Then we be discreet."
Garcia snorted.
"I can be discreet," Rossi defended himself.
"I'm sure you can, but I know people. I can blackmail them into keeping their mouths tightly shut if they see anything."
"So, can I take you out to dinner?"
"Once," she held out a finger, straight at his nose. "And I reserve the right to, A, dump you, B, kick your ass, or C, both, if I feel you're being any kind of jerk to me."
"Agreed."
"Good. Pick me up tomorrow night at seven, at my apartment."
"Where's that?"
"I'll text you directions."
"Text?" he said the word delicately.
Garcia chortled in the back of her throat. "Baby, if you want to ride with me, you need to keep up with the twenty-first century. Tech lessons at lunch every day until you're up to speed. See you at noon in the break room. I'll have you texting before one. Now go away, I have much work to do, and you are intruding on the works of a goddess. Begone!"
Apparently, they were some kind of scandal, a young women going out with a much older man, but she kept the gossips all in line. And he could now receive texts. Sending them was another issue altogether.
Author's Note: This was going to be a Gideon/Elle piece when I originally thought of it, but Garcia/Rossi just seemed better. It's based on a poem by Garrison Keller, 'A Couple on the Street', from his book 77 Love Sonnets.
