Wrote a Rossi/Garcia for ilovetvalot for the ~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~
Hosted by ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969
It is our pleasure to announce the Second Annual Profiler's Choice Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds community!
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A/N: I have never, ever written Rossi/Garcia, ever. In. My. Life. And I am never, ever going to do so again. They are not my favourite pairing. But at least I got stretched out of my comfort zone right? ~Maddie
"So…" Rossi started, leaning against the doorframe, well aware that the furious click-clack of the keys were a sure sign of the rage bubbling beneath the surface. "What're you doing?"
"Trying not to think bad thoughts," came the snapped retort.
She swung around in her chair then, and met his eyes. He had to force himself not to look away from her outraged gaze. "What, Rossi?"
Shit. She called him Rossi. That was bad. No, not just bad.
"Penelope, honey," he started slowly, inching his way into the room- but still keeping the door open, of course, he needed his escape in case things took a turn for the worse. "I know you're upset, but really-"
"What?" she bit out, crossing her arms across her chest and raising her chin expectantly. "You know I'm upset but what? You were justified? You couldn't tell me because I'd go blabbing to any old geezer with ears?" She paused thoughtfully. "You know what, I don't even think I know you anymore."
Damn it, this is not going to plan!
"I know you're mad that I didn't tell you, but-"
"God, Rossi", again with the Rossi! "you don't even get it, do you? How is it not entering your unusually-thick skull that all those months, when I cried into your shoulder and you told me it was okay, and you'd be there for me, and you knew how I felt…all that was a LIE!"
She had a point there, he had to admit as he tried in vain to formulate a response that would get him out of the pile of crap he was currently stood knee-deep in.
Or, you know, even ankle-deep would be alright. He wasn't terribly picky, at this point.
"I couldn't tell you!" he argued, inching closer with every word. "I didn't even know if I was right, and I didn't want to get your hopes up!"
"Oh, you have got to be fucking with me here, Rossi!" she yelled, eyes flashing dangerously. "You are seriously, seriously not trying to peg this on your feelings for me!"
"But it's true!" he protested earnestly. "I swear, Penelope, if I'd had any proof, anything at all that told me she was definitely alive, I would have come straight-"
"Rossi," she ground out through clenched teeth, "you are a profiler. A damn good one, too, and you know it as well so don't try to deny it. Behaviour is your proof! And don't you dare give me that load of bull you spun to Morgan and Reid about how it was just a theory and we could have noticed it ourselves if-"
"You could have!" he said indignantly, cursing his big mouth when her eyes narrowed.
"I," she said icily, "happen to not be a profiler. I also," she added, "happen to be your girlfriend, although don't hold onto any hopes in that regard. Emily happens to be my best friend. So if you think that you were justified in not telling me, then you know what, I don't even…"
Rossi sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "You know what, you're right. I'm sorry." When he saw her start to open her mouth, he raised a hand. "No, let me finish. Even if I had no proof, I was more or less sure of my theory, and I should have told you, and I'm sorry for not telling you. But you have to see it from my point of view, too. What if- and you know we've been wrong before- what if I was wrong? Can you honestly tell me that if you had the false hope that Emily was alive, and it turned out to be untrue, that you would have been able to crawl back out of the wormhole the second time around?"
She was silent, and he took it as his victory.
"And that's why I didn't tell you," he finished gently, closing the two feet in between them and picking up her hand. "Because I love you, and I didn't want you to get hurt more than you had been."
"Dave…" she whispered, and he wanted to do a happy little dance. Dave! Finally! He tensed, getting ready for another argument when she paused. "Dave…"
"Yes?" he asked, looking warily at her.
"You love me?"
Oh, no. Oh, shit. Did he really just say that?
"I…I…" he floundered. But then he thought…He loved the way she took care of the people she loved, and would go to any extent to protect them. He loved the way she could engage in witty debate with him like no one else. He loved the way they snuggled together on his couch, watching reruns of 'I Love Lucy' until he was begging her to turn it off. He loved how she thought of things no one else did, and understood him like no else ever had. Yes. Yes, he did. He loved her.
A smile spread across his face at the realization. He loved her.
"Yes," he said out loud. "Yes, I do."
"You love me?" she repeated.
"I do, Penelope. I love you."
"I love you too."
And she kissed him.