Chapter 7 - The Start of Something Beautiful

Thai Restaurant Parking lot

Dave sits in his SUV and pulls out his cell phone. He pulls up the voicemail that Bren left.

From the phone, he hears: Hey stud, call me when you get a moment. The news is out that you have returned to the FBI and I want to set up that photo shoot and a quick news briefing with the press. I'm already fielding calls from talk shows about appearances. You better make some time in your schedule for marketing your next book that you better be writing in your downtime. Also, I'm horny, so come to my place first when you get back from wherever the hell you went.

He closes the phone and tosses it on the seat. The idea of shifting his schedule around to make television appearances was not something he wanted to think about at the moment. And, as much as he could use a good fuck, he just isn't ready for the fifty-million questions he knows that Bren is going to bombard him with.

He starts the SUV and heads to the hotel. He was going to need to find an apartment or something soon because he also does not want to come home from life on the road in a hotel to life at home in a hotel.

Rossi's Hotel

The drive to the hotel is short and uneventful. He parks the SUV and grabs his go bag before heading inside.

"Welcome back Mr. Rossi," the night attendant greets. "How are you?"

"A little tired," Dave responds. He takes his key and heads towards the elevator.

As he passes the bar, he sees that Doris is working. He pauses and watches her for a moment. She looks over and smiles when she sees him. A good fuck with someone devoid of emotions would be just what the doctor ordered. He enters the room and approaches the bar.

"Want a drink," Doris asks.

He shakes his head. "What time are you off?"

"In about thirty minutes," she says after glancing at her watch. "How was your trip?"

He shrugs. "Routine. You have to go home tonight?"

"No," she smiles. "You want some company?"

"If you feel up to it. We could watch a movie or something."

She leans on the bar and purses her lips. "Can I take my shoes off?"

He smiles. "I'll see you in a bit."

He leaves the bar and heads up to his room. He thinks about his night and shakes his head. So many choices he could have made, but he just wants to fuck and forget about life for a little while. Any of his other choices would have led to emotions and questions and things he just doesn't want to deal with right now.

In his hotel room, he tosses his go bag into the closet and secures his weapon in the safe. Sitting on the bed, he removes his shoes and socks and then strips out of his clothes. He pads naked to the bathroom and climbs into the shower. He is going to get sweaty again, however, he wants to clean off the travel grime that is inevitable when flying and staying in cheap motels.

Finishing his shower, he pulls on a t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers before slipping into the thick, warm robe provided by the hotel. He grabs his lighter and a cigar then heads out on the balcony. The night air is cool and damp, but he ignores it as he lights the cigar.

His mind clears as he puffs on the rolled tobacco. He finishes the cigar when he hears a soft knock on the door. He closes the sliding door and the curtains, slips out of his robe, leaving it on a chair, before answering the door.

Doris gives him a onceover before entering the room. "You look delightfully relaxed."

"Do I," he asks as he closes and locks the door.

She tosses her jacket onto the chair with his robe and slips out of her shoes. He takes her into his arms and kisses her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His hands slide under her shirt, skimming up her back to un-snap her bra.

Her arms wrap around his neck. She moans as his tongue plunders her mouth.

Dave breaks the kiss and lifts her shirt and bra up and off her. He turns her around and pulls her hard against his body before taking both breasts into his hands. She grinds her ass into his crotch, giggling as she feels his hardening erection.

"Somebody's excited to see me," she laughs.

He tweaks her nipples and rubs against her ass. One hand slides down to her waist. He deftly opens her pants and tugs them awkwardly down her hips. She reaches down and helps shove them to her knees.

"Bend over," Dave orders. He presses gently at the back of her neck.

She complies, placing her hands on the bed as she bends at the waist. "Can I take my pants off," she asks.

He ignores her and reaches between them to rub his fingers over her pussy. He teases her clit for a few seconds. Reaching into his boxers he pulls out his erection, rubbing it against her a few times before pushing inside her.

"Fuck," she yells.

"I'm trying," he says with a smirk. He grabs her hips with both hands as they fuck.

Her hands grip at the comforter on the bed trying to maintain her position as he pounds into her from behind. With one hand he reaches around her hip, his fingers search for and find her clit. He rubs it erratically, teasing the little nub and causing her to moan.

"That feels so good," she moans. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Clenching his eyes tight, he moans as his dinner date flashes in his mind. Her blond hair and red lips… "Oh fuck!" His hips jerk erratically.

He continues to fuck her as he feels her orgasm tighten the muscles in her pussy. He picks up the pace and holds both of her hips again until his own orgasm begins to take over his body. He pulls out of her just as his first spasm hits. His semen hits her ass and one leg, dripping down to the edge of her pants still wrapped around her knees.

Once finished he steps to the side and collapses on the bed next to her. She looks at him and laughs. "Welcome home."

"Thanks," he says.

"Uh, you made a mess," she points out.

"And?"

"Seriously? You're not going to clean up after yourself," she continues.

"You're a big girl," he says with a yawn.

"You're lucky I like you," she growls.

He watches as she straightens up and removes the rest of her clothes. She goes into the bathroom and he hears the shower turn on. He gets up and grabs a tissue off the dresser. He wipes his dick clean, tucks it into his boxers then tosses the tissue into the waste basket.

Doris comes back into the room. She wraps her arms around his waist from behind and hugs him.

"Do you mind if I stay the night," she asks. "I'm off tomorrow, maybe we can do something together."

"You can stay if you like," he responds emotionlessly. "I'm leaving early in the morning though."

He pulls out of her embrace and moves around the room shutting off the lights.

"You just got back," she pouts.

He eyes her. "I travel a lot. Are you getting into bed or are you leaving?"

She frowns at him. "Are we going to fuck again?"

"We will if you stay."

She crosses the room and climbs into the bed. Dave turns off the lights and climbs in next to her.

"You're not going to take off your under-clothes," she asks as she cuddles next to him.

"No. Good night. Get some rest but don't be surprised when I wake you in a few hours."

"You are so weird," she murmurs.

Dave slides out of the bed at seven and nearly trips over his discarded boxers. He grabs the robe off the chair and slips it on. He had woken Doris a few hours into their sleep and they had fucked again. She insisted that he at least remove his shorts this time.

He makes his way into the bathroom, locking the door before removing his t-shirt and stepping into the shower. Partway through the shower he hears the doorknob rattle.

"Hey," Doris calls out. "Open the door and I'll wash your back."

Dave rinses off and steps out of the shower. "I'm already done," he tells her. "I'll be out in a minute."

He dries off and slips into the robe again before opening the door.

"It's all yours," he says as he walks past her.

"You sure you don't need your back washed," she asks.

He smiles. "I'm good."

He dresses as she does her business in the bathroom. By the time she exits the bathroom he is fully clothed, including a sport coat that covers his weapon from view.

"I have to get going. Feel free to order room service if you're hungry."

"I can't believe you're leaving again," she slides her arms around his neck and rubs her naked tits against his chest. "You sure I can't convince you to stay and play some more? At least have breakfast with me!"

He slides his hands over her hips to her ass and pulls her close. "You should understand that I am not boyfriend material. I don't mind entertaining each other once in a while, and maybe, we might go out to eat. But I'm not looking for anything else."

"A girl can hope, can't she?"

He sighs. "I have to go."

He gently removes himself from her arms, grabs his bag and exits the room.

The BAU

Dave steps through the glass doors and looks up at his office.

"Good morning," Hotch calls out from his right.

Dave looks over to the breakroom where Hotch is making coffee. "Good morning."

"We had to put you in a different room today," Hotch states lowly. "One of the other teams is on a hot case and needs to use the briefing room."

"That's fine," Dave amiably as he steps into the break room.

"It's not very fancy," Hotch apologizes.

Dave shrugs. "It can't be any worse than the bunker, right?"

The dark, damp hole in the wall

"Did you get moved to the doghouse?"

Dave looks up to see the technical analyst girl in the doorway. He silently berates himself for not remembering her name, especially after having dinner with her and thinking about her most of the night. "Is that what this is? It smells like Mudgie after he's been in the lake."

The room is the size of a broom closet. Dave sits smooshed behind a small table. Empty wooden shelves line one wall.

She steps into the room. "What's a Mudgie?"

She sets her coffee and the bag of goodies on the table, opens the bag and digs around inside. Dave's eyes slowly appraise her. She's wearing another flower print dress with a matching jacket. A large green brooch on her left lapel draws his attention.

"My hunting dog," he replies. His eyes focus on her hand in the bag. She pulls out a large apple fritter. He reaches for the pastry.

"Hunting dog," she asks. She holds the fritter out of his reach.

He nods. "I'm partial to duck hunting. Mudgie retrieves the dead ones from the water."

"Okay. Here's one of the rules you need to know," she states forcefully. "We do not talk about guns, hunting or dead things. Capice?"

He fights a grin, lowers his arm, and sits back in his seat. "You do know that that is all we talk about here?"

"Not here," she shakes her head. "It's fine for work. But between you and me… those things don't exist. Agreed?"

"If I don't agree, does that mean we can't be friends anymore?"

"You learn quickly," she praises. "I have faith in your ability to get along with others - eventually."

He laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. "I agree not to speak of those things you previously listed unless it is in reference to something at work."

"Good boy," she smirks. She hands him the apple fritter. He takes a huge bite.

"This is good," he says around a mouthful of the treat.

"I told you," she beams.

He stuffs half of the pastry into his mouth, chews a few times and swallows. In just a couple of bites, he has devoured the whole thing.

He looks up to see her watching him.

She raises an eyebrow and grins. "What are you doing in here? I thought you were in the briefing room."

"One of the other teams needs it for the day," he explains.

"And your office?"

"My office needs to be painted," he tells her. "This, apparently, was the only space available."

"Mmm," she hums as she looks around the dark, damp, hole in the wall room. "It's like a dungeon in here. Worse than my office."

"Yeah?" he asks. He's intrigued. The profilers shared the bullpen. Why is she, a researcher, in her own space? "You have your own office? Where is it?"

"Across the hall. You wanna see?"

"I'm getting invited into your private workspace," he inquires softly.

She flushes and looks away. "If you want to."

He raises to his feet and moves to her side. "Oh, I definitely want to," he whispers.

"Okay," she responds shyly. She grabs her coffee and the bag before she exits the room. Dave follows close behind her as she crosses the hall, punches in her code, and attempts to open the door.

Dave's eyes settle on the nameplate next to the door, Penelope Garcia – technical analyst. He still has no idea what a technical analyst does but he commits her name to memory.

"Let me get that for you," Dave says lowly as he reaches around her. For a moment, his arm wraps around her; her back pressed to his front. He feels her lean back into him. They enter the office. She quickly scampers across the room putting space, and her desk, between them.

Dave looks around, taking in everything, especially Penelope. She was sending him signals however, he wasn't certain what language they were in. One moment, he could swear she was interested in him and the next she wanted as much space between them as she could get.

"Wow," he breathes as he takes in all the computers and the random trinkets strewn across her desk and the room.

"Pretty awesome, right?"

Settled in her chair, she beams at him. He steps closer and leans over the front of her desk. He looks directly in her eyes. "Awesome doesn't even come close."

The dark, damp hole in the wall

Dave stands up behind the small desk and stretches. He checks his watch: 3pm. His stomach rumbles, reminding him that the only thing he has eaten today was that apple fritter and a cup of coffee. He stayed sequestered in his temporary office reading old case files as well as some information about his fellow team members.

Penelope had a made a lot of sense when she pointed out that differing opinions could be helpful on a case. So, he had requested and received personnel files of the team. They could not have more diverse backgrounds than they do. And none of it really surprises him. He already knows Hotch's story, having helped recruit him years earlier.

Morgan being a former cop doesn't surprise him. The man has action hero written all over him. The banter he has over the phone with Penelope makes Dave wonder if he shouldn't be careful when hanging out with her. Hmm, he thought, he should ask her about that.

Emily Prentiss did surprise him. Daughter of an Ambassador and she speaks how many languages? Italian, Spanish, Arabic, and Russian? Very impressive. She worked for Interpol as well. Her list of accomplishments has him nodding his head. How did she end up in the FBI?

Next was Jennifer Jareau, JJ as she insisted, joined the Bureau straight out of college. Degree in Communications, which explains the career path. He wonders why she has never applied to be an agent; she has the smarts and would make a good permanent addition to the team.

He picks up the thicker file of Doctor Spencer Reid. For one so young, he seems to have accomplished a lot. He skims through the basic information, stopping briefly as he notes the birthdate has recently passed. He pauses and grabs Prentiss's file again. A quick glance confirms that both agents share the same birthday.

What kind of gift do you give to a twenty-six-year-old doctor? Or a thirty-seven-year-old linguist?

Dave puts down the Prentiss file and goes back to Reid's. He reads the file and gets as far as the man's many degrees, IQ listing and recommendations before deciding there was no way he is reading everything. He skims over a few more page before setting it aside.

This is the one he really wants to read. Penelope Garcia. He opens the file, makes note of her birthdate and home address before turning the page. The rest of the file is redacted. He flips through it several times before finally accepting the fact that her life, at this time, is going to be a mystery to him.

His stomach rumbles again and he decides he needs to feed it before the whole building hears. He grabs his jacket off the chair, walks out of the room closing the door behind him. Crossing to Penelope's door, he knocks twice. After a moment, he pushes on the door. He smiles as it opens.

Penelope sits behind her desk, back to him.

"Penelope?" He lets her name sit on his tongue for a minute. He considers trying out a nickname but quickly dismisses the idea. This was a woman who deserves to be respected and shortening her name would be the ultimate disrespect.

"Hold on, my liege," she replies without turning around. She types madly on her keyboard then reaches over and presses a button on her phone. She glances over at Dave and motions for him to sit.

He settles into the chair and watches as she works. She speaks into her headset. She relays some information to the person on the line then hangs up and turns to him.

"Sorry," she apologizes. "B team is on a case in St. Louis and I've been gathering information for them."

"It's okay," he smiles. His stomach rumbles loudly. She laughs.

"Are you hungry?"

"Very much so," he replies. "I realized that I haven't eaten since this morning. Are you hungry? Want to get something with me?"

"Derek brought me soup and a salad a little while ago," she admits.

Derek, the competition. He had momentarily forgotten the younger man. He nods as he rises from the chair. "Maybe another time?"

"Absolutely," she beams. "I'm available for dinner."

He pauses and thinks for a second. "I can change my flight," he decides. "What time do think you might be off?"

"I was joking," she says then notes his disappointment. "I mean, I would love to have dinner tonight, but B-team is in…"

"St. Louis," he finishes for her. "Doesn't mean we can't have dinner."

She raises an eyebrow at him. He continues. "I can have something delivered or go pick it up. We can eat in here if that's okay."

"That would be fine," she says softly.

"What would you like?"

"Pasta," she suggests. "But no meat for me."

"No meat," he responds incredulous. He thinks for a second. "That explains the first rule. Okay. Anything you want in particular?"

She shakes her head no. Her phone begins to ring. "Sometime between six and seven?"

He nods. "I'll see you then."

He walks out and nearly runs over JJ.

"Excuse me," he says as he gently grabs her arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir," she responds politely. "I'm fine. How are you doing? Everything okay?"

She gestures towards Penelope's lair. Dave glances over his shoulder.

"Everything's fine," he assures her as his stomach speaks up again. "I'm going to get something to eat. Do you need anything?"

She shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you."

He smiles and walks away.

FBI cafeteria

Dave rummages through the choice of sandwiches ignoring the murmuring and pointing in his direction. After all these years he has become used to the talking and pointing.

He picks up a chicken sandwich and gives it a good look. "This will do," he says to himself.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and frowns at the name on the screen.

"Hi Bren," he says into the receiver.

"Wow! You are alive," she says in return.

"Yeah, I'm alive."

"You never responded to my text last night," she scolds.

Dave hands the sandwich to the cashier and fishes out his wallet from his pocket.

"It was late when we got in. I was tired so I went to bed when I got to the hotel," he explains. He hands the cashier a five-dollar bill.

"You unfortunate thing, why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

He pockets his change, grabs the sandwich, and walks out of the cafeteria. "I'm headed to Little Creek tonight."

"You could go in the morning," she suggests.

He laughs. "You want to call my Mother and tell her?"

"No thank you," she says stiffly. "Your Mother hates me."

"I'll be back in the area on Monday. Lunch?"

"Just lunch," she asks suggestively.

He smiles. "We'll see."

The dark, damp hole in the wall

Dave looks up as he hears the door to Penelope's office open and close. He waits a moment, his heart skips when Penelope appears in his doorway. He smiles at her.

"Hey," she breathes. "I got someone to cover for me with B team. Would you mind if we ate at my house?"

"I don't mind," he replies. "I was about to head out and pick up our food."

"Great. My place at seven? I'll send you the address."

"I know where you live," he says confidently. He rambles off her address leaving her speechless.

"How do you…"

"I didn't get to where I am without having some tricks up my sleeve," he winks at her.

She squints back at him. "Hmm. I'll see you at seven."

End Chapter 7