Prompt: Mad.
There's a quiet, tentative knock on his door, and he runs his hands over his face, making sure he doesn't look too exhausted. "Come in."
The door opens slowly, and Garcia stands at the other side, still not over the threshold. "Sir, may I um…?"
He gestures to the chair opposite him at his desk, and she steps in, closes the door behind her and sits down. Her face takes on a deer-in-headlights expression, and he folds his hands on the desk in front of him and raises his eyebrows a little. "Sir, I want to talk to you about um…" She drops her head, realising what she's doing is totally insane, and immediately backtracks. She starts getting up. "Actually, I'm sorry, this is totally -"
"Garcia."
She stops, half way to the door, and turns back slowly, apprehension written all over her face. "Sir?"
"Are you here about Emily?"
"Yes sir," she says, her voice tiny.
He drops his face to his hands again, and she doesn't know what to do – this looks very much like s show of emotion, but it's Hotch. So she just stands there in the middle of his office until he looks back up. "Then sit down," he says. "And say what you were going to say. And maybe just for now don't call me sir," he adds, his lips quirking up a little.
Smiling, she sits back down. "Okay. Um. Here's the thing. You should go to her apartment. I'd go, but I don't think she needs someone like me right now, I think she needs someone like you. She wants to see you. I'm completely sure of it."
He stares back at her. "She specifically told me no."
"I know that. I know. She was all messed up about the case and then she spent the entire flight home not talking to anybody, right?"
"Right."
"And then you asked her if she wanted you to go home with her as you got off the jet."
"Yes."
"And she said no. And she kind of yelled at you."
"Yes she did."
"She meant yes."
"Garcia…"
"And you know this somewhere inside because you're a profiler and I'm not. You know that she's so private that she gets herself all tied up inside and when she's trying to hide something she can get… She tries to push people away. But she still needs people, or at least she still deserves people. You totally know all of that. But you're…" She realises she's talked herself into a corner. In her head, that sentence ends too afraid of rejection to see what's right in front of you, but she doesn't think that'd go down well. "Um. You don't want her to yell at you again and tell you to go away. Which is totally understandable. But she won't."
He sighs, and his eyes are so sad she wants to hug him, but that would definitely be pushing it. "You're right," he says.
"Of course I am," she teases, trying to get the smile back on his face.
It works, sort of – one dimple. "I should go now, right?"
"Yeah."
He nods, and starts clearing stuff from his desk into his drawers.
"And sir?" He looks up, raises an eyebrow. "Take wine and chocolate."
He smiles. "Thank you, Penelope."
"Oh, don't mention it," she replies, grinning. "Good luck. It'll be okay. She can't stay mad at you."