Dave stares at the phone in his hand for several minutes before shutting it off and setting it on the desk in front of him. He shouldn't be upset that Kevin was staying the night. But, dammit, he was. He thought that things were going well with Penelope, that she was about to choose him.
He groans as he recalls the picture she had sent him the night before. Was she wearing that nightgown for Kevin? Had he taken it off her already? As much as he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't stop himself from imagining her and Kevin in bed together.
He picks up the half-full glass of scotch and downs the contents. Abruptly, he rises carrying the glass across the room and refilling it. He downs the second glass and fills it again. Oh yeah, tonight he was getting shit-faced. He only hoped he didn't do anything too stupid.
He carries the bottle of scotch and his glass back to the desk. Grabbing his phone, he punches in the code and opens the text app. He sends a quick message.
I'm about to get shit-faced, please come over and keep me from doing something stupid. He hits the send button before he can change his mind, pockets the phone, grabs his glass and the bottle and heads for the back porch where he can enjoy a smoke with his drinks.
About thirty minutes later, half the bottle of scotch is gone, and he's finished smoking a rated 10 cigar. The alcohol makes his head fuzzy.
"What the hell happened," Aaron asks as he steps out of the house onto the back porch.
"My life sucks," he replies without looking at his best friend.
Aaron slides into the chair next to him, reaches for the bottle and pours himself a drink. "I'm listening."
"The slimy, little bastard is sleeping at her place," he growls.
"You mean Kevin," Aaron teases.
"Is there another slimy little bastard out there?"
Aaron grins. "Unfortunately, there are a lot of them."
Dave lifts the glass in his hand, tilts it spilling a small amount on his shirt before drinking the rest. He reaches for the bottle. Aaron watches with a raised eyebrow as Dave shakily fills his glass. "How much have you drunk tonight?"
"This was a new bottle," Dave states.
Aaron reaches over and removes the bottle from Dave's hands. "I'm cutting you off."
"I'm still thinking, which means I am not done drinking," he says then begins to laugh. "That rhymed."
"Yeah," Aaron says with a sigh. "Give me your phone too."
Dave frowns at him. "No."
"Last time you got shit-faced you started sending nude pics to Strauss," Aaron reminded him. "Give. Me. The. Phone."
Reluctantly, Dave digs the phone out of his pocket and hands it over. He stares at the glass full of amber liquid he holds in his hand. "What the hell is wrong with me," he asks. "What the hell is he doing that I'm not?"
"There is nothing wrong with you," Aaron states firmly. "Did she actually say that he was sleeping there or that he was just there?"
Dave frowns. "It's after midnight and he's in the company of one of the sexiest women on Earth, what else could he be doing?"
Aaron thought for a moment. "I'd rather not think about that too much," he says finally.
"He's a slimy bastard," Dave growls. He knocks back the drink in his hand.
Aaron nods. "Yes, we've established that already."
Dave leans forward and sets the glass on the table. He pales. "Oh, this might not have been a good idea."
"Are you about to blow?" Aaron asks. Amusement tinges his voice.
"I never throw up," Dave replies as he shakes his head. He freezes. "I shouldn't have done that."
He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes.
"Did you eat tonight?"
"I had lunch," Dave mumbles. He sucks in a deep breath and settles into the seat.
"Are you falling asleep?"
"Maybe," Dave replies.
Aaron sets down his untouched drink and stands. He grabs Dave's arm and begins to pull him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you to bed before you pass out. I am not carrying your ass up the stairs."
"I'm good," Dave retorts as he pulls back. "I'll just sleep here."
Aaron grabs the other arm and yanks Dave to his feet. Dave startles and moans. "What the hell?!"
"You are not sleeping out here," Aaron says in a tone that means business. "Move your feet."
He ends up half carrying Dave up the stairs. The older man is barely conscious as they reach the bedroom. Aaron guides him to the bed. He pulls back the covers before Dave crashes onto the mattress. With a practiced hand, he removes Dave's shoes, pants and shirt. He pulls the covers over his friend and leaves the room.
Aaron goes downstairs, retrieves the glasses and bottle from outside, then makes certain the house is locked up. He enters the living room and picks up his son, Jack, from the couch. Jack stirs in his arms.
"Daddy," Jack says sleepily. "What are we doing?"
"We're spending the night at Uncle Dave's house," Aaron tells him.
"Okay," Jack replies as he falls asleep on his Dad's shoulder.
Aaron carries him up to the guest room where the two of them will spend the night. He leaves the door open in case Dave needs him. Taking off his own garments, he climbs under the covers with Jack. It's not the first time he and Jack have spent the night at Uncle Dave's house since Haley died. But the last time, he himself was the one shit faced and needing help. He's happy to return the favor.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Penelope lays on her back and stares at the ceiling. She tries to sleep but her mind keeps going back to the texts from Dave. The last thing she wants to do is hurt him and even though he knows she is still with Kevin, she doesn't think he likes that she isn't alone. The bed moves, and she realizes Kevin is turning over.
She slides out from under the covers, shifting a pillow into her now vacated position. She stands by the bed and watches as Kevin wraps his arms around the pillow, pulling it close. Sliding on a pair of fluffy, pink slippers she grabs her robe and cell phone then shuffles into the front room.
She settles onto the couch and stares at the black tv screen. She drifts in and out of sleep. After several hours of tossing and turning, she gives up on sleep. She heads into her bedroom, rummages through her closet and the dresser picking out an outfit for the day. She settles on a white dress with black kitty heads printed on it and her favorite kitty themed stockings.
She loves it when Dave calls her kitten and when he sees her in this, all he will say is Me-ow! She enters the bathroom and locks the door. Time to get ready for the day. At this point, she has pretty much made up her mind about what she wants. She needs to be patient and really get to know him before they fall into bed but, damn, it was going to be difficult. She only hoped that Dave still wanted her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dave lays on his back and blearily stares at the ceiling. Faint wisps of light filter through the curtains. It's early and even though he knows he fell asleep well after midnight, his body refuses to sleep more. He remembers texting Penelope, but the rest of the night is gone from his memory. Rolling out of bed, he shuffles to the bathroom and relieves his bladder. He shucks his t-shirt and underwear before stepping into the shower.
The water is cold upon his warm skin causing him to shudder. He dips his head into the spray letting the water soak his alcohol blurred brain. For some reason, he pictures Penelope in that black nightgown again. His body reacts to the vivid image. Suddenly Kevin pops into his brain and a surge of anger courses through him.
"Fuck," he swears out loud as he suddenly remembers that Kevin spent the night with Penelope. He silently curses his ability to recover quickly from a good drunken state. He finishes his shower, towels off and pads back into the bedroom. He quickly dresses and heads out of the bedroom.
A quick glance into the guest room confirms the fact that Aaron and Jack were in his house. He leaves the door open and heads downstairs. In the kitchen, he starts a pot of coffee then begins searching for his phone.
He ends up pouring a cup of coffee without having found the phone. He worries that he did something stupid. He takes a sip and quickly puts down the cup as his stomach churns in protest.
"Morning Uncle Dave," Jack says sleepily as he enters the room.
Dave looks down at the young boy and smiles. "Hi ya Sport. You want some orange juice?"
Jack nods as he crawls onto a stool at the bar. Dave grabs Jack's favorite cup from the cupboard and gets him some juice. He grabs his cup of coffee and takes another sip. His stomach churns again.
"What's the matter, Uncle Dave? You look green."
Aaron speaks up as he enters the room. "Uncle Dave had a rough night, Buddy." He ruffles his son's hair and smirks at Dave. "You're up early."
Dave grunts. "Couldn't sleep." He tries the coffee again.
"You want some toast," Aaron offers.
"Yeah," Dave breaths gratefully.
"Sit down. I'll get it for you."
Dave moves out of the kitchen and over to the breakfast table as Aaron sets about making the toast.
"You want some toast, Jack," Aaron asks.
Jack shakes his head. "I want Uncle Dave's famous pancakes!"
"I don't think Uncle Dave should be cooking right now. How about I make you some of my not so famous pancakes?"
"Okay," Jack shrugs.
Aaron moves about the kitchen effortlessly finding the things he needs. Jack slides off the stool, grabs his juice and moves over to the breakfast table where Dave sits with his head in his hands.
Jack taps Dave on the shoulder and whispers, "Uncle Dave, do you want some cuddles? Cuddles always make me feel better when I'm sick."
Dave raises his head and smiles. "I could use some cuddles."
He picks Jack up onto his lap. Jack wraps his arms around Dave who hugs him back. They sit there in silence as Aaron finishes the toast and brings it over to the table.
"Jack, why don't you sit over here while Uncle Dave eats," Aaron suggests. He taps the back of a nearby chair.
"We're good," Dave cuts in. He hugs Jack a little tighter.
"Uncle Dave needs cuddles," comes Jack's muffled reply.
Aaron chuckles and gives Dave a look. "I'm not giving you any cuddles."
"Spoil sport. Have you seen my phone," Dave asks as he picks up a piece of toast.
Aaron pulls the device out of his pocket and hands it over. "Don't worry, I took it away before you sent any pictures." Aaron heads back to the kitchen and starts making pancakes.
"Thanks."
Dave quickly checks if he has received any messages, there are none.
"Uncle Dave do you want to see the dinosaurs with us," Jack asks.
"Dinosaurs," Dave repeats. He looks questioning at Aaron.
"Jack has to do a science report about plesiosaurs," Aaron explains. "We're going to the natural history museum."
"Want to come," Jack asks again.
"Thank you for the invitation little man but I have a few things on my schedule today," Dave tells him.
"Oh," Aaron cuts in. "Like what?"
"Range qualification," Dave replies.
Aaron nods. "I forgot that it was your turn today."
Dave hugs Jack to his chest. "Sorry, Buddy."
"That's okay. I'll tell you all about it later."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Penelope drinks her second cup of coffee when Kevin emerges from the bedroom in his boxers and t-shirt.
"Good morning, Babe," he says in greeting.
"You need to get dressed," she tells him.
"I was going to have a cup of coffee, then take a shower," he says.
She shakes her head. "There's no time. You need to go home and take care of that at your house."
"What's the rush? You don't want to have breakfast and laze around the house like we usually do on a Saturday?"
"I have to go to work," she growls. She points to the bedroom. "Go! Now."
"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbles. "You could have mentioned this last night."
She finishes her coffee and rinses out the cup. Kevin returns, buttoning his shirt. She tosses his jacket at him and grabs her own stuff before opening the door. Kevin stumbles out the door as she follows.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Penelope parks in the rear parking lot instead of the garage. She doesn't want Dave to come in, see her car and decide not to stay. There is no doubt in her mind that he isn't pleased about Kevin staying the night. She doesn't want him to hide from her before they can talk about it.
She hustles through the empty bullpen and up the stairs to his office. Dave always comes in for a few hours on Saturday mornings whether he needs to or not. She lets out a breath of relief when she sees his office is still dark.
She unlocks his office door with the key that had magically appeared on her desk along with a note explaining it was to be used only when he was out of town on a case. "Or in an emergency like this," she says to herself as she slips the key into the lock and turns it.
Opening the door, she steps inside, stops and closes her eyes. She takes in a deep breath through her nose. The room smells like him. She briefly recalls Reid giving a diatribe about how the sense of smell creates the strongest emotional memory in a person and how she hadn't believed it until now.
Just the faint hint of Dave's cologne and his unique smell was bringing all kinds of memories to her. She focuses on the most recent, the ones of them at the carnival. The way he smiled at her and touched her. The way he completely ignored every other woman within eyesight even the ones who were going out of their way to get his attention. She'd noticed, but she ignored them, and she noticed that Dave ignored them too. Pretty much every other man she knew, wouldn't have and that made him even more special.
She opens her eyes and rounds the desk sinking into the soft leather chair. This was his chair, not an FBI issued chair, one that Dave had special ordered for himself. She smiles at the memory of him warning everyone to keep their grubby hands off his chair or he'd shoot them in the ass. She was certain he meant it too.
She grins and scoots the chair closer to the desk and that's when she saw it. Sitting in plain sight, right between the photo of him and Ringo Starr and an old squad picture from his days in the Marines, was a framed picture of him and her. The kiss from the Ferris wheel. He had printed it out and put it in a silver frame. She releases a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
Her heart beat loudly in her ears. She focuses on the photo and she knew that was it, she was done. She'd fallen in love with David Rossi.
"How is this possible," she asks herself. "We've only been on one date!"
She'd had a crush on the man for a long time even though she had done her best to ignore it. It hadn't been too hard to ignore as long as she thought of him as a co-worker and a superior but that was completely shot to hell a mere three days ago. The second her lips had touched his it was over. She tried to ignore the electricity of the brief kiss she had bestowed upon him, but that was the moment. And it was a moment she would never forget.
Convincing herself was easy, convincing Dave was going to be another story. The sound of the double glass doors, in the bullpen, scraping open startles her to her feet. She quickly moves to the plant in the window and tends to its needs. She can feel his eyes on her as he stands in the door.
"Mrs. Sprout," Dave teases.
She turns around to gape at him. "Was that a Harry Potter reference?"
"Did I get it right," he asks.
"Almost, it's Professor, not Mrs. Sprout."
"Well, I tried," he concedes.
She nods. "How did you…"
"I know things," he says blandly. "What are you doing here so early?"
She shrugs. "I could ask the same of you."
"I'm always here early," he states as he eyes her outfit. "You look cute, Kitten."
She smiles and turns around. She pulls up the back of her dress nearly to her panties, exposing her stockings and the bare skin above them. "See? The stockings have tails."
"Fuck," he swears. "Dammit, Kitten. I know I said I like to be teased but shit! You shouldn't do that to a man after you've just slept with another man."
She lowers the dress and turns back to face him. "I didn't sleep with Kevin."
"Really? Then why was he at your place after midnight?"
She sighs. "He did stay the night. But I slept on the couch."
He stares at her like he would an unsub. She doesn't flinch under his gaze. After what feels like hours, his face softens then he speaks. "What did you guys do on your date?"
"We went to this new place in the village. It was expensive and there were all these politicians and lobbyists there. I felt, a lot, out of place," she confided.
"Sounds fancy," he replies. "How was the food?"
She shrugs. "I had a salad. All salads are pretty much the same."
"Agreed."
She hesitantly steps closer to him. He hasn't moved from the doorway. "What did you do?"
"Nothing really," he says quietly but the rueful smile on his face says otherwise. He shuffles further into the room to lean against the side of his desk.
"Hmm, why don't I believe that?"
He reaches out to her and in a blur, she is at his side. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to stand between his legs. He buries his face in her neck.
"I couldn't stand the thought of you with him," he confesses. He nips at the soft skin in the joint where neck and shoulder meet.
She groans and pulls him closer. "I didn't want to be with him," she whispers.
He reaches up and captures her mouth with his. They kiss deeply until neither one of them can breathe. He lays his head on her chest and listens to her heartbeat. She runs her fingers through his hair, holding him close.
He rubs his face against her exposed skin, teasing her with his beard before peppering her with kisses. His mouth latches on to her neck again and he begins to suck. She moans and wiggles against him.
"You're going to leave a mark," she laughs.
He pauses to whisper against her skin. "That's the point." He starts sucking again.
"Marking your territory," she asks.
He moans in assent causing her to shiver.
"Jesus… I've never wanted to be marked before."
He pulls back to assess his work. He smiles slyly at the red mark. Leaning back in, he licks the spot. He kisses his way up her neck to her jawbone then down to her mouth. The kiss is very possessive. His hands slide down her back, over her ass and down further. He grabs the back of her dress and pulls it up then lays his hands on the backs of her thighs. Slowly, he slides his hands up her stocking covered legs until he reaches the exposed skin.
He groans and breaks the kiss. "You feel so good, Kitten."
"Keep touching me, please," she begs.
He watches her as his hands explore the skin hidden under her dress. His fingertips graze over the skin between her thighs, swiftly they move to her panty covered crotch. He cups her through her panties.
She gasps and presses down but he moves his hands to her knees.
"David, please!"
"Soon Kitten," he promises. He nips her lips as his hands slip up again to grab her ass under her dress.
She straddles one of his legs and rubs her crotch against him. He sucks on her neck as she seeks relief. He holds her as a shudder runs through her body and she moans into his ear. She presses her crotch hard against his leg.
"Oh my God," she pants. "I've never done that before."
He chuckles softly. "It's okay, Bella. I'm here for whatever you need."
She lifts her head and gazes deep into his eyes. "I need you."
"You know the rules. Did you break up with him?"
"Not yet," she admits. "All I could think about when I woke, was finding you and making sure we were okay."
"We're okay," he assures her. "But we'll be better when you give him the boot."
"I will. I promise."
"Good. In the meantime, I'm starving. Have you eaten?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "You're always feeding me."
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he reminds her.
She nods. "I remember. Are we spending the day together?"
"Sure," he replies quickly. "I have to go to the range this afternoon. Want to come and watch me shoot?"
She squirms. "I don't like guns."
"Have you ever fired a gun?"
Her eyes go wide. "Not willingly."
His eyes narrow. "Will you let me teach you?"
She hesitates. "I'll think about it."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Penelope stands near the back wall and watches anxiously as Dave shoots at the targets. He gave her a set of headgear that helped cut the sound, but she still jumped at every bang. She puts on a brave face every time he turns around to look at her. She could tell he was in his element and having fun from the grin that was plastered on his face.
How the hell did she expect this relationship to work when they were the exact opposite on so many issues? She hated guns, he loved them. She was a vegetarian, he was not. She was a computer and technology geek, he barely understood texting.
He finally strode over to her. She took in the sight of him; tight jeans, black button-down shirt, gun on his hip and a swagger in his walk. He was sex on two legs and he knew it. And she really, really wanted him almost to the point where she would do just about anything to have him. Well, almost anything.
"Are you ready, Kitten?"
"Ready for what," she replies.
He gestures towards the range.
She shakes her head. "Not today. Isn't It enough that you actually got me to come out here and watch?"
He stares at her for a moment. "I'd really like to know that if a situation were to happen, you could safely defend yourself."
"I have pepper spray," she counters weakly.
"It would make me happy if you would at least try," he says with a half-smile.
She stares into his dark brown eyes and silently curses her libido when it flares up. "I just don't think I can."
"Please? Just one shot," he begs. He reaches up and caresses her jaw with the tips of his fingers.
"Okay," she agrees. The way he says, "please", seems to be her kryptonite.
Happiness floods his face. He takes her hand and leads her to his spot on the range. He's talking to her, explaining how all of this works but she doesn't hear anything over the blood pounding in her ears. Her heart races a million miles a minute and her now sweaty hands begin to tremble.
He positions her in front of him and places the gun in her hands. He's still talking, and she nods occasionally as if she understands but really, she doesn't. Keeping his arms around her, he guides her through the process.
"Squeeze the trigger," he says loudly.
She squeezes but nothing happens. Her hands are visibly trembling. Dave wraps his hands around hers to steady her.
"Harder."
Still nothing.
"Harder!" he yells.
"How much squeezing does it take?" she whines.
"About 5 pounds of pressure," he says.
"I've got to be doing at least that much," she says back.
"You'll know when the hammer drops. Try again."
She pulls back extra hard and the hammer finally drops. The recoil of the gun surprises her. She screams and tosses the gun away from her.
"Hey," Dave yells. "What the hell!"
She turns around and begins smacking his arms and chest as tears stream down her face. "Why did you make me do that? Why? Why!"
Dave steps back, blocking her flailing arms. "Take it easy, sweetheart."
"Don't tell me to take it easy, David Rossi! I told you I didn't want to do this and yet you pushed, and you pushed. You're an insensitive bastard and I hate you! You have no idea how to empathize with people."
She storms off in the direction of the exit. Dave looks at his gun lying in the dirt then back at Penelope. He heads after her.
"Penelope wait," he pleads. Everyone on the range have stopped what they are doing to watch the couple fight. Dave reaches her before she gets to the exit he grabs her elbow lightly.
Penelope spins around jarring the head gear loose from her ears. She rips it off her head and throws it at him. "Don't touch me!"
Dave catches the equipment as it slams into his chest. "Sweetheart, let's talk about this, you're blowing this all out of proportion."
"No," she growls. "You're not taking me seriously. I don't think I can do this, David. I don't want to see you anymore."
She spins away from him and runs out the exit, hair flying behind her as her high heeled shoes tap loudly on the concrete floor.
Dave stands in shock. The entire world crashes around him but he can't seem to move. One of the instructors stops next to him and gently places his gun in the holster. The man lays a hand on Dave's shoulder. Silently, the man walks away leaving Dave alone with his thoughts and his shattered heart.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Penelope rushes into the bullpen fighting back tears. All she wants to do is grab a few things and go home. It takes her about three steps to realize that the rest of the team is milling about. She wipes a hand across the wetness that covers her face.
"Hey," Spencer says in greeting. She peers at him. "Are you okay?"
He takes a step towards her, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.
"Let's get started," Hotch commands as he strides out of his office heading to the briefing room. The team starts to follow him.
"What's going on," Penelope asks. She uses the handkerchief to dry her face. "Why is everyone here? It's a Saturday."
"We got a case," he explains. "You got the text, right?"
She shakes her head. "My phone is in my office."
"Come on. We'll get you caught up," he leads her to the briefing room.
They enter the room. Hotch has already handed out files and is giving the team an update.
"Does anyone know where Dave is," Hotch asks. He glances at each team member as they shake their heads no. His eyes land on Penelope. "Do you know where Dave is?"
"He was at the range when I last saw him," she answers truthfully. She grabs a pad and pen from the storage bin and takes a seat at the table, positioning herself to see the entrance to the bullpen.
Hotch gets on the speaker phone and dials a number by memory.
"Gun range, SSA Phillips," a woman answers.
"This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. Is SSA Rossi there?"
"No, Sir. He left about ten minutes ago," she replies.
"Thank you," he says before ending the call.
Penelope expected to see Dave striding through the glass door at any moment. Her eyes stray back and forth from her notepad to the BAU doors. She takes notes when necessary but really isn't paying attention to the briefing.
"Alright guys, we need to get going. Grab your gear. Wheels up as soon as everyone is on the jet," Hotch announces. His gaze falls on Penelope. "Can you locate Dave and tell him to get his ass to the jet, please?"
She nods, picks up her notes and hustles out of the room to her office. She lets the door close behind her, leans against it and sucks in a deep breath.
"Get it together Penelope," she mutters. "This is your job. You can make one stupid phone call."
She crosses the room and pulls out her phone half-hoping that maybe he left a message, but the screen is glaringly blank. Girding her loins, as the saying goes, she dials his number.
After two rings, it goes to voicemail. "Agent Rossi, your presence is needed on the jet ASAP as per SSA Hotchner. He will brief you on the flight."
She hangs up the phone and texts the same message to him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hotch paces from the back of the plane to the entrance hatch and peers outside. The entire team, minus Dave, had been sitting on the tarmac for nearly twenty minutes. He sighs in irritation and returns to the seating area.
The computer comes to life and Penelope's face pops on the screen. Hotch frowns at her. "Anything from Dave?"
"He's not there?" she asks.
Hotch shakes his head. "What did he say when you talked to him?"
"He didn't say anything. He didn't answer the phone. I texted him as well, but he didn't reply," she admits. She bites her lower lip.
"He was at the range when you last saw him," Hotch digs. "Did he say where he was going from there or…"
He stops when he realizes she is crying. "Garcia?"
"The last thing I said to him was, I don't want to see you again," she sobs. "We had a fight. I don't know where he is. I tried to track his phone, but he shut it off."
Hotch rubs his face as the rest of the team looks on in silence. "Okay. I'll follow up with Dave. JJ, can you let the pilot know we ready to go? Garcia… you should have said something earlier. Are you okay?"
She shakes her head as tears continue to stream down her face. "Do you think he hates me?"
"No," he replies softly. "I'm sure we'll hear from him soon. In the meantime, do you need to take some time off?"
"I'd rather be helping you guys."
"Okay. I'll call you when we land," he tells her before breaking off the call.
"Shit," Emily swears causing the whole team to release the tension that no one had realized was there.
"Where do you think he is," Reid asks.
Hotch shrugs. He thumbs through his phone and dials Dave's number.
"Maybe he went to his cabin," Emily suggests.
Hotch nods. "That's a possibility."
"I feel bad leaving Penelope there alone," Emily says softly.
Derek pulls out his phone and starts sending a text message. "I swear, I will kill the old man for hurting my Baby Girl."
JJ settles back into her seat as the jet begins to taxi to the runway. "Didn't he promise to kill us?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dave slips into the low-lit office and quietly closes the door behind him. He leans against the wall and watches as Penelope works on her computer. He can tell the exact moment when she realizes she is no longer alone. Her hands still, shoulders stiffen and her breathing stops. Slowly, she turns around in her seat.
Eyes wide, she gapes like a guppy for a moment as she sees him. After several seconds, she finds her voice. "You're supposed to be with the team. Where have you been?!"
He smirks at the tone of her voice. "So, you still care about me?"
Her face softens. "Of course, I do. I've been trying to reach you for several hours. Where haveyou been?"
He shrugs. "I went for a walk."
He steps away from the wall, grabs the extra chair in the room and moves around the desk to sit next to her.
She eyes him warily. "You forgot how to answer the phone?"
"I needed time to think," he admits softly.
"Hotch could write you up for this," she admonishes.
He laughs humorlessly. "You think I care about a write up?" he shakes his head. He sits close to her, not touching, but close.
They sit in silence for a few moments, staring into one another's eyes. They are not uncomfortable like most people in this situation would be.
"You were right," he admits suddenly. She watches him, waiting for him to continue. "I am an insensitive bastard."
He leans forward invading her space. She doesn't retreat.
"But," he continues. "I can't empathize with a situation I know nothing about. So, you need to come clean with me."
"About what," she whispers.
"Why don't you like guns?"
She blinks and turns away from him. He grabs the chair and spins her back to face him. Using his knees, he blocks the chair to keep her from getting away again. He puts his hands on the armrests. They lock eyes.
"Sweetheart, this relationship isn't going to work if we are not one hundred percent honest with each other. Now, I am more than willing to tell you anythingyou want to know. Are you willing to do the same?"
Slowly, she places her hands on top if his. Her fingers gently caress the back of his wrists. "Yes. Yes, I am."
He waits patiently, letting her decide when to start.
She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "When I was a kid, I had this friend named Sharon," she begins softly. "We met at a park when we were five and became best friends. We lived a few miles from each other, but our parents would let us talk on the phone twice a week, and on the weekends, we would take turns staying at each other's houses."
She pauses. Her hands slide up and down his arms, more as a comfort for herself than for him.
She continues. "This one weekend, we were about seven or eight and I was staying at her house. Her Mom was at work and her Dad was watching us. It was hot out and we spent a good part of the morning and afternoon playing in the pool. But then it got too hot and we went into the house to watch cartoons that her parents had taped on their vcr."
Flashback
The girls, one blond and one brunette, sit on the floor in front of a large square television. John, enters the room from the kitchen and sets a plate of cheese, apples and crackers on the floor between them.
"Eat up, ladies. I'm going to the store for a few minutes to get some cigarettes," he tells them. "You two stay in the house. No swimming while I'm gone. You hear me?"
"Yes, sir," they reply in unison.
"I have my key. If anyone knocks, what do you do?"
"Nothing," they reply, again in unison.
"Correct," he smiles. He kisses each of them on the top of the head before he leaves.
They sit, munching on their snacks as they watch cartoons. On the screen, Yosemite Sam steps out of a saloon carrying a pistol larger than himself. Sharon, the brunette, begins to laugh.
"What's so funny," Penelope asks in confusion.
"That gun," Sharon says with a giggle.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's too big," Sharon tells her. "Guns aren't big like that."
Penelope frowns and stares at the television.
"Have you ever seen a gun," Sharon asks.
Penelope shakes her head.
"Do you want to," Sharon asks. Penelope glances at her, then at the television and, finally, back at Sharon.
"Yeah."
"Come on," Sharon urges as she gets to her feet.
Penelope rises and follows her friend into the master bedroom. On one wall, stands a large gun cabinet with a glass front. Inside the cabinet, sits several rifles most with scopes and straps.
Penelope stares at them with wide eyes. "Those are pretty big."
Sharon giggles. "Those are rifles. My Dad uses them when he goes hunting. Let me show you what a pistol looks like."
Sharon crosses the room to the nightstand. She opens the drawer and pulls out a shiny, silver revolver. Penelope steps closer to get a better view.
"Here. Hold it," Sharon says as she presses the pistol into Penelope's hands.
Present day
Penelope blinks and realizes her hands are now intertwined with David's. She takes another deep breath.
"I took the gun and waved it around like the character in the cartoon show, and I must have had my finger on the trigger, because suddenly it went off. We were both terrified. The bullet landed in wall just to the right of her head."
Tears fill Penelope's eyes and she sniffles. "I almost killed her!"
Dave forces himself to relax. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he let go of his emotions. He pulls Penelope out of her chair and onto his lap. Releasing her hands, he wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.
"It's okay, sweetheart. It was a long time ago."
She cries into his neck for several minutes. "I was so scared," she admits.
"I can understand that," he agrees. "It was an accident, honey."
"Do you think I'm silly?"
"About this? Absolutely not."
She settles into his embrace. "Do you understand why I don't want to touch another gun?"
It's his turn to take a deep breath. "I understand why you are scared. Your introduction to weapons was not under the best of conditions. I'd like to get my hands on your friends' father and wring his neck."
She leans back, not releasing him, and looks at him. She frowns. "He didn't do anything wrong."
Dave chuffs. "A – he shouldn't have left the two of you alone. B – only an idiot leaves a loaded weapon in the reach of a child. I never leave my guns out for anyone to find them."
She shakes her head. "You're an FBI agent, you have to do that."
"No," he replies forcefully. "I'm a responsible gun owner. He was more to blame for what happened than either of you. He was the adult, Penelope."
She watches him, letting his words sink in. Slowly, she nods her head. "You're right. I'm still not comfortable with the idea of touching a gun."
He gives her a comforting squeeze. "When you're ready, I would like to teach you proper, and safe, handling of a weapon. I want to make certain no more accidents happen and if, God forbid, anything should happen and you need to protect yourself or someone else, you know how to do it. I promise to take it slow and not pressure you… too much."
She grins and rubs her nose against his. "Okay," she whispers.
She kisses him, gently rubbing her lips against his. She moans when she feels his tongue pass over her lips. She parts her mouth and allows him to deepen the kiss. She presses closer to him as they kiss for several minutes. They break apart, panting deeply.
"You know, if it wasn't for your stupid rules, we could be having mind-blowing make-up sex right now," she teases him.
"Right here in your office," he asks with a sly grin.
She glances around the room. "I'd be willing."
Act