AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters, but I thank all who worked on the series for their incredible work. Also, thank you to all the Garvez writers out there who came first and whose work I enjoy so much. I hope you enjoy this little offering - it's my first fanfiction ever - so apologies in advance for anything that is out of joint.

Rating : Mature (for smut/lemons and language). Please do not read if that is not your bag. This chapter will have unrequited feelings and some angst and definite smut/sex. I promise it will all come out well in the end though...after all GARVEZ is cannon :)


He smiles along with everyone else when their all time favourite analyst, Penelope Garcia, announces after the end of a truly horrible case:

"I am going to recommit to living life to the fullest. Right now, to that end, I'd like to invite everybody over to my house for a celebration of life, liberty, and the pursuit of the responsible intoxication. To the home cave!"


Luke is slowly surfacing from sleep, becoming aware that he is sprawled on his stomach in bed, that his face is definitely creased with red lines from how his cheek is moistly jammed against the tussled sheet, and that he's been drooling.

Ugh. Nice, Alvez.

He didn't drink that much last night...but it had been a big night.

A late night.

A raw night.

Without opening his eyes he bump-shifts a bit away from the damp spot - drag-wiping his cheek and the corner of his lips on the sheet as he moves - then letting himself slump heavily back into almost the same position he was in - only about 7 inches to the left and groggily making sure his face is tilted just a bit more to the side to avoid another unpleasant puddle.

Better.

His hand now rests on the damp spot on his sheet - up where his face had just been resting - but he can't bring himself to move it.

He has the day off. He had been out late with the team recommitting to living life to the fullest at Garcia's - Penelope's - "celebration of life, liberty, and the pursuit of the responsible intoxication!"

He is pretty sure the dream he was chasing just before he surfaced had promise - he is not opening his eyes.

Maybe he can somehow catch back up with the dream...he is woozily sure it had promised his favourite laugh...deep unending kisses...handfuls of breasts...a smile actually directed at him...

...catching is his specialty after all...

..chasing...catching...crashing into...

...his cock is already semi-hard..it twitches between his stomach and the sheets...thickening as he lets his mind fill with his host from last night...

He curls his fingers on the damp spot - letting himself pretend he is touching her - her mouth...or...or..her wetness... even though he's not happy with his brain's choice of word for that part of her...heat coils in his stomach...he lets out his breath - harsh. slow. strong.

His mind's eye traces down her imagined body, prompting his real hips to start to flex against the mattress...maybe it's not more sleep he wants...maybe he wants to just be in this in-between...

He could drag his hand down from where it's resting on the damp...reach between his body and the sheet...it's been awhile...he could just...think about her...and...

Unfortunately, three things conspire against him in that moment.

1. Roxy chooses that moment to paw at his bedroom door and whimper - the sitter must have dropped her off with a note - letting themselves in - not bothering to knock - setting out Roxy's breakfast - not putting Rox in her kennel as per the texts they exchanged last night.

2. His phone starts ringing.

...and...

...and..

3.

...and this is what actually makes him swing into a sitting position on the edge of his bed - sheet tangled across his lap uncmfortably - eyes open and pressed against the palms of his hands...

3. For the first time. ...as he imagines her naked body - blushing nipples like cherries on sumptuous cupcakes - her soft rolling tummy - her tangled curls... the skin is marred with a scar - although his brain has painted the scar not as it would look now - healed and faded...but a weeping fresh gunshot wound.

Fuck.

The phone stops ringing.

Fuck.

Roxy lets out a single impatient bark.

Fuck.

He can't decide if he's happy J.J. shot the guy or if he'd rather he was still alive - held in some dark hole somewhere so he could kill him with his bare hands.

Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. Fuck.

In a burst Luke stands - scoops his phone off the nightstand checking the number and seeing - fuck for real - that's the first time Phil's returned any of his calls in a month at least and he missed it - at least it was not work.

...not her.

Why would it be her?

Focus. Roxy first. Then Phil.

He opens the bedroom door letting Roxy streak in.

Enough.

ENOUGH.

That way leads insanity.

Roxy is doing her impression of a cat - twining around his legs - bumping against him in joy and for pats. Probably smells Sergio...

"Hey Girl! I missed you!"

He rubs her ears and hunkers down so she can lick his face. Now she's all puppy eyes and panting.

They work together. She would never want him. Derek was the one she cried to. J.J. was the one who stayed back.

Enough.

He burrows his fingers in Roxy's thick coat. Her doggy happiness is contagious - helping him shake off his helpless thoughts from a moment ago. Then his fingers hit against Roxy's collar - the "dope" collar she had gotten his girl.

He is suddenly aware of his nakedness.

He straightens and turns away from Roxy - grabbing his robe. Heading for the shower, he makes himself smile back at his dog.

"So what do you say, Rox? Shall I have a shower and then we can go for a run? See Phil."

The dog wags her tail but tilts her head at him questioningly - although she politely does not go so far as to point out that people usually do not have their showers before going for a run.

He is thankful.

He just needs a few minutes.

And a cold shower.

Luke's brain skips back to her place last night. He remembers her sitting and laughing with J.J. Making Spencer do the "the shopping cart" and "the sprinkler" and "the reeling in the fish" to that song from the "Party Mix Tape" she put on...

He had teased her about that:

"Who still has tape has tape player? I thought you were The Tech Goddess?"

"Mix tapes are an art form and not to be messed with, Newbie!"

Then they were all toasting to "Freedom!" - standing beside her - close enough to smell her shampoo - his hand on her shoulder...

... but that was before he gave his head a stern shake...

They work together.

He pulled away...crossed the room...talked to Matt and Rossi about sports.

She doesn't like him.

Nursed his beer. Asked Spencer to tell him everything in the world about the psychology of cannibalism -- all the stuff Spencer knows but didn't have time to share on the case.

Can't stand him.

...but he still couldn't help but see her...

Twirling and belting along to Dancing Queen with Tara and Emily...

Setting up a time to babysit for Matt and Kirsty...

Pulling out a bottle of very old scotch she just happened to have for Rossi...

But she was starting to soften towards him a bit, right?

She was so full of verve and meant so much to all of them. How could anyone hurt her?

Just like last night, his chest tightens...

FUCK.

Ok needs to think straight. He's alone..he could put Rox in her crate for a bit with the presents Penelope passed to him - her chest heaving from chasing him down the hall to catch him before the elevator doors closed...

Just like last night blood pounds in his ears...

"Newbie...I almost forgot...it's just one of the chew toys you said she likes - I hope she doesn't mind the pink sparkly one - but I guess if she hates it she can take out her aggression by chewing it! Oh, and a batch of biscuits - I hope they aren't too stale...I made before this last hell case so they are a week or so old. I promise to make fresh a.s.a.p.! Give my love to that sweet girl of yours!"

Just like last night he can't help a lopsided smile...

He had stared at her speechless. Smiling like a fool - happy, sure - but also fiercely ignoring that he felt queasy jealous of his dog in that moment. She had smiled back, but then Emily had called her - and she had flounced away making an exasperated sound that was usually something he'd hear directed at himself.

The doors had closed then - cutting off a view of the swish of her hips as she made her way back to her apartment.

Just like last night his groin tightens...

He remembers feeling a bit dizzy, clutching the pink camo gift bag ...

..maybe he should lie back down - imagine kissing her palms - her finger tips - her scar...imagine being the one to make her feel safe... all better....

..he would push into her...

..promise her...

No.

She is a coworker.

They are on a team.

He needs to respect that.

He needs...

He NEEDS a very cold shower.

But he should probably give Roxy her present first. Give her something to do while he takes his ridiculous pre-run shower...

He grabs the gift bag from the side table where he left it and gives the new toy and one of the biscuits to Roxy. He doesn't put her in her crate though. He does not need the extra privacy for this very boring cold shower he is going to have...

His brain won't shut up though.

His body has not relaxed.

Maybe Penelope would like to join them on the trail? He could just text her a thank you for the fun get together last night...for the gifts...that would be polite. Friendly. She loves Roxy...

Shut. Up. Brain.

Shut. Up. Body.

He ignores the small niggling feeling that while his Brain and Body seem to have lots to say on this matter...his Heart is the one that's clamouring at him.

...he knows.he can't text her...can't ask her out...can't be enough.

This is ridiculous. He was an Army Ranger for hell's sake.

But that's partly why he is too broken to ever be good enough to be the fabulous Penelope Garcia's person. Sure he will be the best he can for her...be there as a shoulder to cry on...a friend...family...a brother...but nothing more than that.

Luke groans aloud at the thought of being Penelope's brother.

Fuck. Double Fuck. Triple Fuck.

Maybe he and Rox should pick up another collar when they are out...get rid of that reminder at least...

...but he knows they won't..

...just as he knows he won't have a cold shower...

...just as he knows he won't not jack off in the shower...

The scalding water falls over him as he leans against the wall - arm above his head holding himself up. He is wheezing and panting... ferociously jerking his dick. He hates that word...it sounds so high school...but refuses to use a more appealing word in his head to describe this.

Desperate, he throttles his cock - no his dick - faster and meaner - trying not to think anything specific - just of faceless fucking - a body in front of him on hands and knees - what it would feel like to be inside...a..a.box..a honeypot...a cunt ...a snatch...why are so many words for a woman so flimsy or plain ugly?

No wonder his team is never without work.

The thought makes him feel guilty - his hand stops and he slaps the wall hard - again an again - holding himself back from punching the tile. Refusing to lose control --at least loose more control His palm stings.

Fuck.

Everything hurts. Why is today so stupid? He pulls his brain back to the matter at hand - this is not a big deal - he'll go crazy if he doesn't do this - this is just a natural thing - he is not hurting anyone. He puts his hand back on his...penis. Penis is a nice clinical neutral term. He almost laughs - he is being ridiculous.

This is just a rough utilitarian hopeless wank...he is just going to get off and then go for a run...get on with his life

He is just masturbating.

This time he does laugh out loud. He is using these ugly awkward words in his head deliberately. Who knew he was so sensitive to language?

But even though he is alone...it is important for some reason that this not be...beautiful...or loving...or..or...whole...

...not the way it could have been when he first woke..not the way it could have been if he had been uninterrupted..

...if he'd indulged in the safety and promise of the in-between time...

..slow and healing and believing in miracles...

He is thinking about Penelope now and the ways he would try to make her feel good.

Safe.

Caring.

Cherished.

He strokes his cock more surely..more, if he's truthful, lovingly... still fast and firm and hot but the difference is palpable.

He feels good...or maybe right is more accurate.

What is it about him and words today?

His body changes it's posture without permission and he is no longer hunched and wheezing and ashamed. He has stepped away from the wall and is standing straight and strong under the water. He tilts his face back into the flow and glides his hand with a more slow powerful touch. His other hand is now held as though it is on her hip - guiding her against him - moving her with him.

It's not the first time he's imagined her bent over in front of him - sliding into her slick wetness - listening for her moans - feeling the push and glide...

The unreachable orgasm he was trying to wring out of himself before is now building finally. He can feel himself aching and coiling. Soon. Soon. He can hardly hold back.

He feels a bit insane but he knows he won't let himself cum until he has properly pleasured Imaginary Penelope...

Suddenly his is muttering aloud to himself "Penelope you are gorgeous. Let go for me Pen. I need to feel you. I need you Pen. I've got you, Pen. You're safe, Pen... Penny... Penelope.".

He is now rhythmically growling her name - speeding up as he pumps into his own wet hand. The woman in his mind is pushing back against him - thrust for thrust. Whimpering. He can't believe how good she feels. She is with him and suddenly she stiffens and shudders around him. He swears he can hear her say his name as she shatters hard around him...for him.

"Oh Fuck. Pen. You feel so good. You are amazing. I love you. I love you, Penelope!"

Ropes of semen fall to the shower floor. He's so high from the orgasm his whole body quivers. He lowers himself to his knees. The water flowing over him. He rubs his hands over his face.

...he still doesn't believe it could ever be real.

Enough.

Enough now.

After all...trails won't run themselves...

Phil called back finally...

Luke finishes his shower in silence. He pulls on his running clothing,. Ties his shoes. Grabs his wallet, phone and keys. He whistles for Roxy and they head out to his car.

He starts to dial...see if Phil wants to hang out later.

Maybe he should try dating again...

Whatever he can do to not think of her.

Maybe.

Fresh air - time for some fresh air...