A/N: Writing Fury is hard. Please enjoy this sweetness and fluff

Reason Why

"Darling, I have to ask, why the Olympic champion?"

Penelope kept her polite smile fixed in place as one of her former classmates (and how glad she was to tack 'former' onto that, Jeanette had been a nightmare when they were teenagers) asked the question that gossip rags and scandal sheets had been asking ever since her relationship with Gordon Tracy had become public knowledge.

As she considered how to best answer this question- the setting of the birthday party for one of their former classmates prevented her from answering the way she truly wanted to, with a sharp 'mind your own business you harpy'- Penelope found herself wishing that at the very least the woman could deign to use the Tracy boys' names, not describe them like how one might describe a horse for sale.

She knew this particular circle of acquaintances had been debating her choice for weeks now. From the perspective of many of these, well, to be quite frank, ninnies, Scott should have been her pick- the heir to the empire with those blue eyes you could drown yourself in, and sonnets had been written by swooning women (and a few men) about his dimples.

She liked Scott quite a lot, and yes she'd fancied him once upon a time, but they'd never clicked in that manner and remained friends instead.

The next candidate was John, the second born holding a Spock-like appeal, mysterious in his aloofness and intelligence. The accounts of some of their theories of what he might be like if they could get him alone had sent her into fits of giggles. If he'd known about them, those theories probably would have sent poor John fleeing back up to Five and swearing off ever setting foot back on terra firma.

John was a close, trusted and very dear friend and she could place no price on his friendship. It quite frankly offended her that some people simply could not conceive of the pinnacle of close relationships between people, especially between a male person and a female person, being anything but a sexual one.

Virgil, the artist and musician, a man with a gentle and caring soul, had been bandied about as an option quite regularly and her social circle practically drooled over the idea of landing 'a sensitive guy' who also had his musculature.

She trusted and cared for Virgil a great deal, but she knew he was far too gentle for that part of her that she kept well concealed from people like the ones currently surrounding her. A romantic relationship meant revealing all sides of her, not just the ones acceptable for public viewing. She simply couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment in his eyes if she ever showed him the facets of herself that led to Jeff recruiting her to International Rescue.

Alan thankfully didn't register on the radar of these women, she'd have hated to have heard them dissect his person like a frog in a biology class.

"Well Jeanette," Penelope faked a sip from her champagne glass- she had a mission tonight and she'd need a clear head, "if you really must know I picked Gordon for many reasons, but there is one that stands above the rest."

"Ooh? Tell me, darling!" Jeanette squealed, giddy from the three glasses of champagne she'd quaffed.

Well aware of the surrounding women all keenly listening, Penelope let herself smile softly. "His greatest treasure is my smile."