[a/n: extremely flattered with the response to this story. i'm glad so many of you enjoy it! next chappy will hopefully be a little insight into what happened that garcia can't seem to remember. then probably one or two more chapters. we'll see how it goes though. i want to spend a fair bit of time on the next one selecting the right songs, so it might be a few days, but if all goes according to plan, it'll really help sell the believability. :) love y'all. peace.]
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS OR ANY COPY RIGHTED MATERIALS HERE IN... i merely invite them in for tea from time to time..
The first thing she noticed, besides how cold it was outside of Rossi's bedroom, was the faint breakfasty odour wafting from the direction of the kitchen. She felt her mouth water and her tummy rumble with a different kind of ache. She cursed under her breath as her hunger sped up her footsteps.
She peeked around the corner when she reached the end of the hall.
There he was; humming happily to himself as he placed another slice of bread coated in an eggy mixture into the sizzling frying pan. He had a dish towel slung over his left shoulder and a small spread of food strewn across his floating island counter top. Thankfully, he was fully clothed as well. She wouldn't have been able to deal otherwise.
"I have the strangest feeling, like I'm being watched", Rossi announced loudly, causing Garcia to jump. He had his back still turned to her, but she could tell he was grinning. "Good morning, gattina. I hope you slept well."
"Um.. yeah", she hesitated, thrown off by his casual manner. Were they just not going to talk about the fact that something had obviously happened between them? "It's so fricken soft it's like lying on a herd of sheep."
"It should for what I spent on it", Rossi chuckled, flipping the slice of bread so that it could brown on the other side. "How's the head?"
"Much better", she realized, creeping up beside him to watch him cook. He was her favourite chef, even still. "What was in that, er, 'elixir' you gave me?"
"A closely guarded list of secret ingredients", Rossi answered evasively, tapping a finger to the side of his nose. "A list that loses it's magic if ever uttered aloud, so you'll not hear it from me."
"Well, whatever it was, you could probably bottle it, sell it, and make a fortune", she sighed, leaning next to Rossi's stove. "All of my hangover feels like it has fled my system."
"I've had plenty of occasions to perfect the recipe", Rossi smirked roguishly, whisking the last slice of bread from the hot pan, to a waiting stack, to the island counter in a flurry of deft and measured movements. "Come.. cenare con me."
Penelope figured he meant for her to sit and eat with him, so she moved to the seat opposite his and sat, trying to decide which of the foods on display she dared to partake in. There was a fresh fruit, yogurt, and cinnamon mixture that caught her eye, so she reached for it.
"It tastes even better when you eat it with the toast", Rossi suggested, indicating the small stack of sliced bread with the cooked in eggy mixture.
"What..is it..though?", Garcia asked hesitantly. She'd never seen toast made that way before.
Rossi glanced up at her in surprise. "Have you never had french toast?"
She shook her head.
"Well, then.. This is french toast with a twist", Rossi explained, spearing a slice with his fork and plopping it on his own plate. "It's starts with a basic egg mixture, but instead of milk, cinnamon, and maple syrup, I use cream, nutmeg, and a bit of white chocolate mixed with some brown sugar. Then you top it off with the yogurt, fruit, and cinnamon. It's important not to mix the nutmeg and the cinnamon flavours until after the toast is cooked, otherwise the taste comes out flat."
As soon as he had said 'white chocolate', she knew she had to try some. It was really sweet, but absolutely delightful. "Mmm! You are such a good cook! I am totally jelly."
"All proper italian breakfasts are sweet, gattina", Rossi dismissed humbly. "Bacon, ham, and eggs are dinner food."
"What's 'gattina' mean?", Garcia asked, eating rather quickly, unable to get enough of the delicious toast and yogurt. "I've never heard you call me that."
Rossi smiled kind of strangely for a moment and then continued to cut up his toast. "It means 'pussycat', which I explained to you last night, but I doubt you remember very much of that.."
Penelope ceased her eating frenzy abruptly, and froze, blushing. She was torn between asking what had happened and wanting to go back to before when they had been ignoring the truth.
"It's alright if you'd rather not talk about it", Rossi assured her, as if he could read her mind, focusing on his plate. "Sadly, I've been down this road before, and I know how unsettling it can be."
"It is.. but it's not", Penelope struggled to explain in a quiet, thoughtful tone. "I just kinda half-wish I knew what I was supposed to be.. 'unsettled' about.."
Rossi nodded, taking in a deep breath, trying to come up with delicate words. "Well.. everything."
"Everything?", Garcia frowned, trying to decipher his meaning. Her eyes then went so wide it hurt her face muscles. "Everything?", she rasped, the weight of her sudden shame crushing her heart and making it very difficult to breath. She thought she just might pass out. "How?.. How..? What?"
"I'm entirely certain it was a combination of things", Rossi attempted to illustrate. "There was the alcohol- which was proved by me, the music- provided by me, the dancing and singing- that was you, and then some stupidity- again me, so it stands to reason that you could blame the whole thing on me , if you like."
Penelope thought about doing just that, but dismissed the idea. "I'm my own person. It's only right that I accept some of the blame."
Rossi shrugged, returning to his toast. "People make mistakes. We're only human after all."
"How am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if I can't even remember them?", Penelope joked self deprecatingly, stirring her yogurt with her fork, decidedly less hungry.
And there it was again. The same look that had given him the crazy idea to ask her over in the first place. A broken down, given in, hassled by life look. A look of undeserved regret. He couldn't stand it, and he wouldn't allow himself to be lumped into the same category as Kevin Lynch.
Rossi stood from the island counter, and held out his hand to her.
She looked up at him, confusion furrowing her brow. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to help you remember", he stated in a manner that held no quarter. "It's the least I can do after I supplied the scotch that took your memory from you."
"I.. don't think that's such a good idea..", Penelope tried to reason, but he was having none of it.
"It's the only way to be sure", Rossi insisted, still holding out his hand to her expectantly.
Penelope took his hand gingerly, slightly wary of what was about to transpire, and allowed him to lead her to the living room area.
"Now", he began, seating her in the exact same spot she had sat in the previous evening, and turning to his record player. "Close your eyes, think back, and listen..."
[a/n: UPDATE: ate some bad food and was sick for the two days i had off :( gonna try and finish before midnight, but it might be a few hours later. love y'all. peace.]