Author's Note: I wrote this twice because my computer was a jerk and died before I could save. I liked the first one better, but what can you do. I couldn't sleep and wrote this at three in the morning, so this is definitely not edited. I watched "Penelope" and decided I hadn't written any happy CM fanfics. I thought this would be a start. Enjoy.


"One should always play fairly when one has the winning cards." - Oscar Wilde


"Miss Penelope Garcia, what are you doing?"

The smooth and familiar voice came from right over Garcia's shoulder, causing her to jump and let out a yelp. She had not heard the owner of said familiar voice creep into her room, and she had not been expecting Morgan to pull any such stunts in her domain. In a flash, the analyst's fingers raced over the keyboard, closing a bundle of windows she had been viewing on the screens of her office's array of computers. The screens blank, she glanced over her shoulder, a pouting frown on her lips.

The field agent let out an amused chuckle at Garcia's frown and stepped back as she swiveled around dramatically in her chair.

"I'm not terrifying innocent peasants with my wicked good looks and inability to knock," she shot back. Morgan shook his head and laughed. Garcia turned back to her computer, fingers itching to be distracted. Morgan was in trouble, and she wouldn't be surprised if he had no idea.

"Now, Baby Girl, you are anything but innocent."

Garcia turned her head, eyeing Morgan up and down with a smirk. He was, as always, a sight for sore eyes. Especially after what she had just been reading. She swiveled around again and leaned back in her chair. She raised a slender eyebrow and brushed the fuzzy top of her pen against her cheek.

"Oh, my dove, I have yet to show you the full extent of loosing one's innocence," she cooed.

Garcia loved bringing out her sexy-but-scary voice. Every time, it either rendered her bantering opponent speechless, or so turned on she could easily take advantage of them on the spot, if she felt the urge.

Little did Morgan know, but he was toeing a dangerous line. He was about to cross into the land of scary Garcia. In which there was no sexy; only wrath.

"Is it anything like what you were reading there?"

"What? Reading what?"

She was giving him a way out. This was his only shot. He could easily reply with, "Never mind, Sweetstuff, I just wanted to remind you to stay beautiful" or "Never mind, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I'm completely and irrevocably in love with you". Either reply (or any similar) would be perfectly rational and acceptable for this situation so as to avoid a future filled with pain and humiliation. Said pain and humiliation would be administered by Garcia with very little remorse, as she had done all she could to protect Morgan from himself.

"Oh, don't act cute—"

"Too late."

"C'mon, Garcia. I saw that window open. That was not case related."

Garcia rolled her eyes and released a sigh. She would try one more time to save Morgan. Clearly, he was among the large group of men in America incapable of understanding when a woman wanted to change subject. Perhaps this was the reason he couldn't keep an intimate relationship with one for more than a single evening. Garcia made a mental note to investigate this notion further.

"Fine," she sighed. "Promise not to tell?"

"Scout's honor."

"I was reading a blog on the latest Nintendo DS game releases. My reflexes are used to minimizing windows concerning non-work related material like Flash Gordon when someone walks in. My record's 2.5 seconds. How was I?"

"I think you'd have had it beat," Morgan said. "If I hadn't walked in here without attracting your beautiful attention and seen that you were definitely not reading a blog about kid-friendly video games."

This was seriously his last chance. If Morgan valued any semblance of dignity, he would stop. Right. Now.

"Unless people are blogging about kid-friendly games that feature Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee in a star-struck love affair in a world filled with confusion and violence."

Enter scary Garcia.

"Derek. Morgan." The FBI technical analyst leaned forward and slowly stood up out of her throne. "I swear on all that is still good and green in this world that if you repeat a word of that to anyone, the entire bullpen will be receiving an untraceable email containing a photo of you wearing buttless chaps and brandishing a lasso."

Morgan backed off, literally. "Whoa, Baby Girl…I wasn't trying to—"

"AH!" Garcia snapped her fingers and shook her head sharply to stop any protests. "Nope, nope, nope. I am not joking. Buttless. Chaps."

The field agent could only stare at her in disbelief as the cheery blonde turned back to her desk to retrieve her coffee mug. "Now," she said, the sweet Garcia suddenly back with all smiles and sunshine. "How about some coffee?" With that, she headed through the door, leaving a thoroughly confused, slightly frightened and a little amused Derek Morgan in her wake.

"Innocent my ass."

"Hey, hey! What did I just say? Buttless. Chaps. Now get out here and make me some coffee."

Morgan complied; once again the talented mastermind that is Penelope Garcia had used the magic of Photoshop to worm her way out of an awkward explanation.