AN: Just a little oneshot...I like to think she gained some courage and went for whom she really wanted after this...

Advice From the King of Broken Hearts by Kricket Williams

Penelope's nose was dripping. That was her most hated part of feeling like crying. She squeezed the bridge of her beak, hoping that it would keep the tears at bay.

Kevin turned her down. Because he had a date. A date with another woman.

Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of it. For some reason, when she'd turned down his kinda, sorta proposal, she'd never anticipated that he would start dating again so soon.

At least not before her.

Gina in IT. Of all people. She wasn't that pretty. She wasn't ugly, but…No, that was being catty. Gina was lovely, by all means. And she was nice. Very, wonderfully, uberly nice. So nice, Penelope couldn't hate her. Sadly, with a small amount of vanity, she thought Kevin had great taste in women!

She sighed as she pulled into the driveway at the Rossi mansion. Her Italian Stallion had such a huge house. It was like twenty of her apartments, and at least three of her whole building. It reinforced to her exactly how much David Rossi loved working for the BAU. Obviously, he didn't need to be there to pay the bills, like Morgan, herself, and everyone else. If she won the lottery, she always thought that she would probably leave. Deep down, she wondered if that was true. She loved her job, and loved her team like family, too. Even Blake had grown on her.

Esther, her big coppery caddy, sputtered to a stop at the top of the lengthy driveway, and she put it in park and shut the car off. She checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked miserable. Even her flower in her hair was droopy.

Forcing the droop away, she began a stride to the front door of the Rossi abode, climbed the four front steps, and clapped the brass lion door knocker.

She only had to wait a few moments.

"Kitten," he said, greeting her warmly. He opened the door and gestured to her with a wave of his arm. "Come on in."

As he helped her remove her lime green peacoat, she reflected on the atmosphere of the Rossi abode. There was a roaring fire in the large fireplace in the great room, giving off an aura of warmth and relaxation, and a faint scent of rich tobacco and Italian spices were wafting in the air. In the distance, she could hear the strains of some jazzy music that sounded like it was from a bygone era.

No Carly Rae or Beyoncé for Dave.

"How was your drive?" he asked as he lead her through to the great room. In front of the fire was a small table. On top of the table was a cut lead crystal decanter with a tawny liquid inside, and two glasses. The crystal had prisms of light from the fire radiating off of it, giving it a nearly magical glow, and Penelope started believing that maybe—just maybe—this whole Scotch and Tony Bennett idea was going to work for her.

"Not bad," she answered blandly, and stood there.

Dave took a seat by the fire in a comfy looking armchair that was so uberly his style. She took a seat in the chair next to him and sank into the luxury of the buttery Italian leather. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"Super agent, you know how to live."

"After fifty-mmmthing years," he said, running his hand over his mouth to mumble his age, "I should finally get it right."

She giggled, while he reached for the Scotch, and she sat up and immediately stiffened. "Oh. Just a little bit. I'm-"

"Two fingers full," he said, sloshing the liquid in the first glass. "For starters."

She frowned. "But-"

"No buts, young lady," he argued, and handed the glass to her, before pouring himself a drink.

She sighed, and sipped the liquid. It was nasty stuff, sharp and harsh, and she couldn't imagine drinking that full glass.

He clicked his tongue at her in disapproval. "Not like that. This is a bracer."

"Excuse me?"

"We say a toast, and then you shoot it down," he instructed. "Here...To love lost. Cheers."

"Cheers," she said warily, and then clinked the glass with him. He shot it down without incident, and Penelope bit her bottom lip and didn't move.

"Come on, Penelope. I don't have all night."

She sighed. She came here to do this, and well... "Here goes nothing..."

Fire shot down her throat along with the liquid, constricting her airway, and her eyes watered as she sputtered and coughed. She couldn't get a breath; it hurt. Oh, God, did it hurt!

"That was awful," she gritted hoarsely, glaring at him. It was. She wasn't going to lie to him.

"Wait for it," he said softly, pouring two new glasses.

And then, almost as quickly as it had erupted in flames, it mellowed. Softly, gently, warming her insides, her belly, the region where her heart was aching. It spread through her extremities, leaving a glow as warm as the fireplace in front of her.

Oh...now she knew why people drank this!

"That's a girl," he said, nodding in approval as he handed her a nearly full glass.

She sipped the drink, and it was no where near as bad as it first had been. She figured her mouth was probably numb, that's why it changed so drastically. Now it was nearly pleasant, with a nutty undertone and a strange, nearly sweet taste that was kind of...woody.

"So, Kevin-" she began, but he put up a hand.

"No. Not yet. Not now," he responded. "Sit back. Relax. Let Tony lull you, and then we'll talk."

With her body feeling so warm and flushed, she didn't have to be told twice. She sank into the leather again and closed her eyes, listening to the warm words. Along with her lips getting numb, her brain was starting to feel the repercussions of drinking such a strong beverage. It was hard to think straight.

"Right about...now," Dave said, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was staring at her, like he was making a study of her, and he was smirking.

"Now what?" she asked, and her tongue felt thick.

"Now we can talk," he said, crossing his ankle on his knee. "So...tell me about this ex of yours."

That was an odd question...

"He's Kevin. You know Kevin." She shrugged and pouted. "And he found someone else."

"Do you care?"

She frowned at him. That was an even odder question.

"Of course I care."

"Why?"

She huffed. "Rossi. He was my boyfriend for four years."

"Ah," he said, stroking his goatee in deep thought again. "Because he's comfortable."

She stared at him, her mind spinning, and not only from the alcohol. "Well, I love him."

"Do you?" he said. "Because if you did, I have no doubt that you could get him back in a heartbeat."

"Really?"

He smiled. "None whatsoever. But-" he finished his drink, so she did hers, too. "Do you want him back?"

"I do..." she answered, but as she did, she listened. Tony Bennett sang of amazing love in the background, people who saw magic and felt magic, who loved with their whole hearts.

She hadn't loved Kevin with her whole heart in years...if ever.

"Garcia," Rossi said softly, as if reading her mind. He leaned closer to her, his warm eyes neither condemning or congratulating her. "There is a difference between wanting someone back because they fill a spot that you want filled, and wanting them back because you can't live without them."

She swallowed hard, but she couldn't keep the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I've been kinda unfair to him, haven't I?"

Dave chuckled a little. "Oh, man. I thought I was the Catholic in here! No feeling guilt, kitten. You gave him good years—probably more than he deserved—and you've grown where he's stayed stagnant. Trust me," he said, handing her a new glass of Scotch. "It happens. Even when you don't want it to."

In a sad twist of irony, Tony was now singing, "I'm the king of broken hearts..."

She looked for a tissue to wipe her eyes, and then took the hankie Rossi procured for her. "Thanks, Rossi."

He smiled at her. "No problem. Now, let's enjoy the fire some more, and talk about life."

She blew her nose, and then she laughed. "I suppose I should keep this hankie."

"Please do."

Penelope sighed, sat back in the chair, and watched the fire.