Chapter 3

Day Three: Stale Mate

--

What the heck had made her agree to having dinner at David Rossi's?

"You made that decision, Jayje," Emily replied, shuffling through the blonde's closet. Penelope was there too, sitting beside where JJ was reclined on the bed.

"He kissed me!"

"Under mistletoe," Penelope said. "This game, Sweet Pea, is all yours."

JJ blew out a breath. "What was I thinking?"

"That you've wanted him for too long and since Aaron proposed to me you've realized the Bureau policy isn't always as strict as it sounds?" Emily replied easily.

"Speaking of, Missy," Penelope spoke up, turning her attention to the brunette. "We need to talk bachelorette party."

"Can we deal with one crisis at a time please?" JJ groaned.

"I, in no way, see your inability to make a clothing decision for dinner at David Rossi's as a crisis. A bachelorette party... well... it could be, if planned right."

"Pen, we're not turning my bachelorette party into a wild and crazy night, okay?" Emily scolded, used to reigning in Penelope's eccentric ideas. "And Jayje, its dinner with Rossi. You know the guy better than either of us do."

"Which reminds me," Penelope agreed. "I don't see how this is any different from the other times you've been to his place. You guys go out together all the time."

"This is different," JJ said.

"Is it?" Emily asked, her hands on her hips, her gaze on JJ's closet. "By your own admission it's not the first time he's cooked for you."

"What?!" Penelope exclaimed. "Since when am I out of the loop?"

"After bad dates," JJ replied. "You would make me dinner after bad dates."

Penelope was nodding her head in agreement. "I would. Bad dates suck."

JJ raised her hand and let it fall with a thud to her stomach. "Thank you."

"Aaron's never made me dinner after a bad date," Emily reasoned. "I never told him about my bad dates. Well, he did find out I dated men worse than Viper during the Atlanta case, but..." she trailed off with a shrug.

JJ just rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore Emily's uncharacteristically flimsy argument. "Last time I checked, this wasn't dinner after a bad date."

"No, the dinner is the date," Penelope said with an almost squeal.

"Which brings us back to the problem at hand," Emily agreed, effectively gathering the attention of her friends. "What kind of a message do you want to give him?"

"Throw me down on the table and ravish me," Penelope spoke up immediately.

JJ didn't bother to shoot her friend a glare. "I'm interested."

"Honey, that's what you wear to work every day," Penelope pointed out.

"I do not!" JJ contradicted finally pushing herself into a sitting position. She crossed her legs beneath her.

"You do," Emily agreed. "No one mentioned anything. We just figured there was a man in your life. Now we understand."

Penelope cleared her throat pointedly "You and I understood a while ago," she said. "The boys are just blind."

"Not Aaron," Emily almost sing-songed. "He asked me about you and Rossi two weeks ago."

JJ's eyes widened. "Two weeks ago?"

"Mmhmm," the brunette agreed, pulling a pair of dark jeans from JJ's closet. "Asked if I'd noticed something different about Rossi. I think he finally just opened his eyes."

"Did you tell him that?" Penelope asked.

A dirty smirk tilted the corners of Emily's mouth. "I was kind of exhausted at the time and definitely not thinking about the odd quasi-relationship between Jayje and Rossi."

Penelope threw a pillow that whacked Emily in the back.

"Hey!"

"Can we not turn my room into a war zone?" JJ inquired seriously. She took the jeans from Emily's hands. "Top?"

"White sweater. Ribbed," she replied.

"The one I wear on girls' nights?" JJ asked in confusion.

"The cute one, not the comfy one," Emily replied. "Heeled boots."

JJ sighed. "You're a godsend."

"You'd have picked it out anyway," the brunette replied, moving to take JJ's spot on the bed as the blond dug through her drawers to find the aforementioned shirt. "Am I hearing you get cold feet here, JJ?"

"Not cold feet," JJ called through the mostly closed bathroom door. She and Emily had shared way too many hotel rooms for there to be that barrier of modesty between them, but JJ knew she had a habit of picking her underwear as she wanted to feel. It was her little gift to herself when she went out on dates. Even if she didn't look smoking hot in her clothes, she knew her underwear was sexy, whether the man saw it or not. Tonight's dark blue boy-short panties and dark blue lace bra were no exception.

"That's what it sounds like."

JJ made sure both of her friends could see her roll her eyes when she opened the bathroom door again, preparing to do her makeup. "I'm nervous," she replied. "Because this feels different than normal."

"Understandable," Emily agreed, nodding her head sagely. "I'm still not sure what the problem is. The only man you probably know better than Rossi is Reid, and I know you're not attracted to Reid."

JJ, for all of her indecision as to what to wear, had picked her makeup out long before she'd made the panicked call to her two best friends. Simplicity was the name of the game, playing up the blue of her eyes, the curve of her mouth. "For one thing, I'm not about to go over there to rant about a terrible guy with a bad case of the grab hands."

"So? That doesn't mean you don't have anything to talk about, if that's your issue," Emily said.

"Or you could just not talk at all," Penelope suggested, her voice leaving no misinterpretation.

"Penelope Garcia! This is our first date, if it is a date at all. I'm not that type of girl," JJ said, wishing she had something to throw at the other blond.

"It's a date, JJ. Just like your Christmas Eve plans are a date. Just like how you're going to suggest you show him some of your favourite Christmas traditions is going to be the precursor to more dates," Emily told her friend strongly. "You wanted a chance and it's here, so why are you closing the door?"

And that was how Jennifer Jareau ended up in front of David Rossi's modest home at seven o'clock on the nose. She knocked confidently, her purse slung over her shoulder, a surprise in the bag at her arm and a wine bottle in her hand.

"Good evening," David greeted, smiling at her as he opened the door.

"Hey," she replied, stepping in the door he held for her. Cold was not something she did very well.

"What did you bring?"

"Wine," she began. "Emily's suggestion."

"Of course," David agreed. They both knew Emily was a connoisseur of wines. Whenever the team was out together just for fun they trusted her judgment. She had yet to steer them wrong.

"My purse," she continued, dropping the offending object by the boots she'd pulled off. She preferred stocking feet, even if David preferred shoes.

"Always a necessity," he agreed again.

"And something for later," she finished, holding out the bag to him.

He took it, reading the words showing out of the top of the bag. "A gingerbread house?"

"Holiday tradition," she replied. "You told me one of yours, now I'm going to share one of mine with you."

"So you brought a gingerbread house."

"Technically, it's a gingerbread house kit," she replied, hanging up her own coat as she'd done a million times. In some ways – and she'd never admit this, even to her most private journal – it felt like coming home to walk these familiar halls. She'd spent the night a few times since their friendship had started, twice because of the weather and once because of a sudden and embarrassing case of food poisoning from one of her bad dates. She knew these halls like she knew her own.

"A kit?"

"Well, we don't have to make the gingerbread, but we have to put it together," she explained.

"And why would we do that?"

"Because it's a Christmas tradition, Dave," she replied, her tone almost warning. "Humour me."

--

He raised one hand in mock surrender as he took her in. Jennifer Jareau in the office was nothing to scoff at, and JJ all decked out for a date out was a sight to behold, but nothing in David Rossi's mind could beat her dressed down. He saw her in business suits in the office on a daily basis and saw her date outfits on a number of different occasions – sometimes even that famed little black dress that all women seemed to own – but rarely did he get the honour of seeing the blond slip of a woman in jeans. But the denim did her more than justice and he had to draw on the reserves of his willpower to lead the way to the kitchen.

"Smells fantastic. What are you spoiling me with this time?"

Something about 'this time' bothered him. Sure, he'd cooked for her many times before, usually just simple things or the leftovers from the last time Mama Rossi had been visiting. It was never anything spectacular in his books. This, on the other hand, was much different. For one thing, he was cooking for two. For another, he was about to prove to her his real mastery in the kitchen. Then, when she left, he was going to call his Mama and thank her for teaching him everything he knew.

"Nothing fancy," he promised. "Shrimp tossed with pasta in a homemade cream sauce."

"Mama Rossi made?" JJ asked as she circled the counter to sit on the stool he considered hers. She always watched him cook.

"No," he contradicted. "David Rossi made."

Her eyes widened delightfully. "I'm excited," she said. "Can I help?"

"Not a chance," he replied. "This recipe is not for just anyone."

The spark that lit in her blue depths made his stomach warm in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. Then again, JJ made him warm in ways he hadn't been in a long time. "Secret recipe?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied. "I can't have this getting out to the masses."

"Your days as a BAU agent would be finished," she quipped with a little smile. "Corkscrew?"

"You know where it is, Jen," he answered, his tone almost scolding her. "And the glasses."

"I spend too much time here," she said with a smile, standing and making her way to what she'd called the odd utensil drawer. The glasses forced her to reach up and he was treated to a small expanse of skin that looked almost tanned alongside the angelic white of her sweater.

He wanted to contradict her. He wanted to tell her that she didn't spend enough time here by any stretch of the imagination. However, he wasn't going to rush this. He was going to take his time, lay out his metaphorical arguments before taking any further steps. Office romances were tricky things, but something in his gut told him that Jennifer Jareau was going to be worth the hurdles they'd have to jump through. And he had always trusted his gut instincts.

"You look deep in thought," she said, sliding a glass his way and picking her own up to sip from.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about," he promised. "Set the table?"

"My gosh Dave. You bring a girl over to cook for her then make her do most of the work?"

He smiled at her teasing tone, even if he could sense the underlying discomfort and confusion. "I don't cook for just anybody."

"No?"

"Of course not," he replied, sounding slightly indignant. He met her eyes. "Cooking for someone is intimate, special, personal." He thrilled when heat and awareness flitted across her features. He wasn't sure if this was going to fast, if they were moving ahead much quicker than she'd like, but if that heat and awareness was any indication, he wasn't moving fast at all.

It didn't take them long to be seated and he was absolutely shocked to find how easy it was to be playful with her. More so, she made him feel a lot younger than his 53 years. It was easy to forget all of those dead bodies they saw, easy to forget they even worked together. He loved how easy it was to talk to her. He loved how they didn't talk about work or dead bodies. They did talk about their colleagues though, about Emily and Hotch and their upcoming wedding.

They were talking so much that he didn't realize the time until she yawned widely. Upon looking at the clock, his eyes widened. "I think we're going to have to postpone that gingerbread house, sweetheart." He didn't even realize the endearment had slipped out.

--

That suited JJ just fine. In fact, it fit better than fine. While most of her brain was too busy absorbing 'sweetheart' and the tone of his voice, the rest of her flashed him a bright smile. "That's fine." And it was, it gave her an excuse to come over later in the week to finish. "I'll leave it here, we can do it another time."

She had no idea if he liked the idea. He'd already turned away to start clearing their coffee mugs. She moved to help him, unsurprised that both of them moved so well together to put the dishes in the dishwasher and clear the table. Still, it was odd after their constant dinner conversation for their talking to drop off completely. Odd, but not uncomfortable.

"Thanks for dinner, Dave," she said quietly as she led the way to the door.

"It was my pleasure, Jen," he replied, his voice equally as soft.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She wasn't ready to take the risk of kissing him without the added excuse of mistletoe.

He, however, seemed to have no problem leaning over to kiss her cheek. "Tomorrow."

Why did that sound like more than promise to see her at work?

My brain is opening up! I keep setting myself up for future chapters without really realizing I'm doing it! Yay!

Please review!