AN: Thanks so much for the reviews; you guys are superstars!...As for the story-Are you seeing how everything happens that first chapter yet?...
Chapter 9
"Hell, no."
"You don't have a choice."
Morgan was obviously upset, being pissed and being concerned warring for dominance. "Rossi, I can't let you take off with those three women in that state without backup. Wait. I didn't mean let you...Damn." He slammed his hand on the counter in frustration, and then hung his head dejectedly.
Dave put his hand on Derek's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "I know what you meant, Derek."
Morgan gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."
"Kid, listen to me," Rossi insisted. "You're going to make things worse if you go with us now feeling the way you do and with Garcia feeling the way she does. I can handle this. Calm down here for awhile, go into that bar and have a beer. I'll call after the next stop, and you can follow at a distance."
Derek took a deep breath, and then sighed heavily. He met Rossi's eyes with very serious intent. "Take care of her."
Rossi smiled faintly and nodded. "You can count on it."
Dave meant that; he would guard all three ladies with his life.
Penelope, JJ, Emily, and Dave loaded into the minivan cab and began a drive to one of the quieter bars in the city. Dave gave the cabbie directions, hoping seriously that the women didn't realize they were heading away from one of their previous picks—a very happening club that he would've easily lost all three women in.
Keeping Morgan away had been a good call; Dave noticed within five minutes of the drive, Penelope was starting to change her tune on Derek.
"Guys...I never should've talked to him that way," she said sadly, like she was ready to cry any second now. "I got so mad, and I don't even know why. I should apologize—"
"No," Em interrupted, adding rather reasonably for a drunk person. "You and Derek need a break from each other. You're too close."
"We are not!" Penelope cried vehemently. She probably would've jumped to her feet if she hadn't been in a moving car. "I would die without Derek! He means everything to me. I love him!"
"Kitten," Rossi said softly before Penelope threw herself out of the moving cab, "I think Prentiss meant you needed a short term break only."
"I would never want to hurt Derek," she said, sitting back with such a frown, her brows were kissing on her forehead. "I love him."
"We know you wouldn't," JJ said, patting Penelope's shoulder. Garcia was directly in front of JJ and next to Em.
"I love him!" she cried out again.
"We know already!" Em snapped, her snarky sense of humor still intact, even with her blood level at one-hundred proof.
Penelope turned to face Prentiss and raised her chin defiantly. "I still love him."
Em rolled her eyes heavenward. "Oh, brother!"
"So...no tattoo?" Dave asked hopefully, changing the subject.
"Oh, no!" Penelope said indignantly, trying to face Rossi, who was sitting in the back of the cab. If she hadn't had her seat belt on, she'd have been on the floor. "I am getting that tattoo. No one is my boss! Not even Derek sleep-with-a-showgirl-instead-of-the-woman-who-loves-me Morgan!"
Dave began to wonder where Penelope had gotten that idea. Reid and Morgan had played a few rounds of craps last night, before retiring earlier than Dave himself had. He'd had a hard time getting to sleep last night, between his thoughts on the gorgeous blonde next to him and Morgan's lumberjack snoring. No, Derek sure as hell hadn't been with a showgirl by any stretch.
He also didn't even want to begin wondering where Kevin Lynch was in this picture...
Shaking him out of that train of thought was the star of his dreams last night when he finally had gotten to sleep.
"Not even Hotch?" JJ asked teasingly, winking over at Dave. Despite the amount of liquor she'd drunk, she was coming out of this drunken high faster than her two cohorts. Dave could tell by her voice and her maintenance of common sense.
Penelope sat still for a second, obviously thinking. "Well...yes, he is, I guess. But no one else!"
Dave leaned closer and murmured in question over to JJ, "How much did she drink?"
"The same as the rest of us," JJ answered, "but Garcie is a notorious lightweight drinker. She didn't have the college tolerance testing that Em and I did."
"Ah," Dave answered in understanding. The light floral scent that JJ wore, along with the scent of pears, wafted up and teased his senses—so much so, his voice was thicker when he answered, "So that explains why you don't appear to be as drunk."
"No...I'm as drunk as they are." She shrugged for a moment, and then looked kind of sad. "To be honest with you, I think I have a harder time letting loose. I'm used to doing what is expected of me. My coaches, my bosses... I'm the quin...quin..." She paused on the word, unable to say it.
"Quintessential," he supplied.
"That's it!" she exclaimed with that crooked grin he adored. "The quintessential golden girl."
Dave frowned in thought at what she'd said, and then drawled, "That's good—following the rules, doing what is expected."
"I think so," she said proudly. "Part of being a law abiding citizen and agent."
"But what about what JJ wants?"
Before she could answer him, the cab had stopped and Penelope called out, "Ooh! Look!"
The bar he had directed them to unfortunately had a tattoo parlor next door to it.
"Let's go there!" Penelope said, dragging JJ.
"No," JJ answered, trying to talk her out of it. "We're getting a few drinks first, right? That was the plan?"
Penelope shook her head. "Hells, no. I want to go there."
"Kitten, you gave your word," Dave reminded, stepping between JJ and Penelope.
That was all the reminder Garcia needed. She followed, albeit rather sulkily, into the Blue Moonlight Lounge. Inside, soft jazz music was playing, the lights were low, and couples were dancing on the intimate dance floor.
All three of the women looked terribly disappointed.
Emily looked around and quipped sarcastically, "Real happening place here, isn't it?"
"A few drinks, and then you ladies can decide what's next," Rossi argued, walking up to the bar. All three women followed him.
He knew he'd dodged a bullet, with them not climbing back in the cab and heading somewhere happening, but he wanted to give Morgan a chance to catch up to them. He'd sent a quick text to him and to Hotch from the cab when the coast was clear.
Despite his bravado, he could use the backup!
Penelope climbed up on a bar stool and amazingly didn't fall off. "I feel kind of Casablanca, 1940s here. Is the bartender named Sam?"
"That was the piano player, Kitten," Rossi corrected.
"Well—" she peered at the bartender's name tag "—Jorge. Play it again and make me a fuzzy navel and a shot of tequila."
"All of us," Prentiss added cheerfully.
"Except me," Dave said quickly. "Bourbon, neat."
"And a shot," JJ said, arching a fine brow at Rossi. "You can't get away without doing a shot."
"Fine. A shot, for me, too," he said to the bartender.
Two shots and two drinks later, everyone was having a very good time at the Blue Moonlight. The small crowd that was there ended up being very friendly, cheering and laughing with them, and the owner opened champagne for their small party when he had heard that JJ was getting married. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name; JJ kept expecting to see Norm Peterson walk in.
Penelope was starting to giggle again on a constant basis, as was Prentiss. They continually gave toasts to JJ—sweet toasts, raunchy toasts, and toasts that made no sense at all.
"To JJ," Garcia said, holding up her fuzzy navel and spilling part of it.
"To JJ," the crowd around them repeated, holding up their glasses, too. There was a good sixty people joining them now; the little bar was getting busy.
"May your pants always stay up."
"Cheers!" a man called out, and everyone drank.
"That was awful," Dave said, shaking his head and chuckling while sipping his second bourbon.
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Super Profiler?" Garcia challenged. "You do better."
"Yeah, Dave," Prentiss argued. She was standing next to the bass player in the little jazz quartet that had been playing in the bar. They had a huge fan in Prentiss now, and by the looks they gave her, they were Prentiss's fans, also. She'd declared that she liked the music and repeatedly told the band so, clapping loudly every time they finished a song. "You haven't said a toast yet."
Dave paused for a moment, and then held JJ's gaze with his espresso gaze. "To Jennifer."
"To Jennifer!"
He drew a breath and said softly, "May you finally get what you want."
JJ was lost in the dark onyx eyes holding hers. She couldn't look away, couldn't breathe. Everyone else in the bar melted away; it was just herself and Dave, and what she had so desperately wanted to hear. She could see the silent approval, the heated fire behind his eyes, and she let herself fall deeper, harder, farther into those warm depths.
She didn't know how long she'd spent staring into his eyes, didn't know when the band had started to play again, but she knew exactly when she regained her voice and knew exactly what she was going to say.
"What I want is to dance with you."
