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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 12 days

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The Heat The Night Brings

Garvez wc:3,261 Fit for all consumption

Wrapping up a spring break case in Florida, the team joins the Miami-Dade CSIs for some after work drinks and dancing.

JJ and Tara banter, Penelope dances with Eric, Luke doesn't like it.

It smells of salt, ripe fruit, and overly ripe bodies, heat hanging in the air oppressively clings to skin, that same oppressive heat prompting the night’s outing.

The teams, spread out across tables under the Miami stars, rejoice when fresh pitchers of white, fluffy, frozen daiquiri are laid out in front of them.

It’s been 6 hours since they caught the guy responsible for so many spring break murders- murders spanning years, some jealous cameraman working for a show dependent on exploiting drunk college girls. They were lucky to have caught the guy when they did, narrowly saving the woman who would have been his fourth victim this season. They were all glad that one of the production crew had been following the cases, remembered those poor girls, and that he had spine enough to come to the cops about their connection. Because of him it was finally over.

With the suspect apprehended, normally they’d be back on the jet headed straight for home, but there was a hurricane threatening the coastal Carolinas, so instead of altering the jet’s flight path and hoping for the best, the team of agents agreed to wait one more night and spend some time with the team of crime scene investigators who they were able to assist in closing the case.

~~~

“It’s uncanny”

“It’s unreal”

“It’s disgusting!”

The two women turn to Penelope, waiting to hear what gauze of refusal she’d come up with this time.

“They look nothing alike! Alvez? Uck!” her face twists up expressing her displeasure, the same protest she’d made each time someone brought it up during their stay here. “Eric? Eric is…delicious. An Adonis with dimples and the most succulent, cherubic lips…” she bites hers and pulls the straw of the icy concoction up to her mouth as she, JJ, and Tara compare the features of Luke Alvez and Eric Delko, the two men completely unaware and immersed in their own conversation three tables away. “You really don’t see it?”

“I really see the finest hunk of Miami’s finest talking with SSA Blandsome, Wonderboy, and the delightful Natalia, if that’s what you mean by ‘it’.” “Penelope, they could be twins.”

“Pft, as much as Arnold and Devito, but definitely not in that sexy sandwiched and mirrored type of way.” “Hmm the lady doth protest too much, methinks”

“Can it, Gertrude.”

Tara and JJ share significant glances and stifled smirks. She could deny it all she wanted, but they were trained profilers, and Penelope was terrible with secrets even when she wasn’t talking. The fact that the whole team, save her and Luke, saw it, was only additional fodder.

The trio watched as Luke’s doppelganger looked over, catching their appraisal, and grinned. Eric, saying something to the group, downed the remaining rum and lime slush in his glass and left the table, sauntering to theirs.

What’s a little fun between departments? Penelope, she’s quick, and witty, and cute and if her body language, her banter, has been any indication, she’s on the same page.

Pretending to continue conversation with Spencer and Natalia, Luke repositions himself, tracking Delko, watching as their Tech Goddess beams up at Eric, placing her hand in his and follows him from the tables to the string-light clearing in the middle already filled with people enthusiastically dancing off the day’s humidity.

Women like macaws in brightly colored dresses and partners in light guayabera as their uplifting skies crowd the dance floor, but there’s only one couple Luke cares about, only one bird his watchful hunter’s eye stays on.

As Spencer continues to talk about whatever it is they were talking about- Luke isn’t really sure anymore- somewhere in the mushy distant part of his brain he detects the upturn of a question, a finalizing statement. “Yeah, no, absolutely” he agrees, trying to keep up the charade, pretend that his whole focus hasn’t been drawn to the interaction between Penelope and Delko.

“You think the orcas are somehow harnessing the signal put out by their location tags to track and attack specific yachts?” Spencer asks, oblivious to Luke’s preoccupation, confused by the response.

Covering her mouth, Natalia breaks into a fit of giggles which breaks the spell for Luke, attention snapping back to the people across from him. “What?” He feels the back of his neck flame against the already sweltering heat, embarrassed, hoping he hadn’t been caught, and somewhat ashamed at his own behavior. Normally he would have been listening with rapt attention, soaking up every bit of information Spencer could throw at him, but tonight he’s finding himself…troublingly distracted.

“Luke, I was joking-” Spencer says, looking from Natalia to his friend.

“Yeah, no, obviously, Spence” he says lightly, as if he’d been joking too, because obviously orcas reworking technology to their advantage would be an insane theory. The orcas that had been attacking yachts, right, that’s what they’d been talking about. “I think these drinks are stronger than I thought. I should go burn off some of this alcohol.” Luke claps a hand to Spencer’s shoulder, “I’m gonna take a walk, check in with the rest of the team.”

Getting up, Luke barely registers the parting words trailing after him and casually weaves around the tables, eyes never leaving the dance floor for long. Joining Tara and JJ at their table, he fills Penelope’s abandoned seat, closer to the dancing couple.

~~~

“That was mighty quick work confirming, and tracking down the camera man, I’ve never seen fingerprints come back so fast except on my own computers.” Penelope changes the subject. It’s not that she doesn’t find him attractive, she very much does and gives zero cookies who knows, but as much as she wants to…something’s tugging her back.

What was that?! What is wrong with you?

“Yeah, it’s a miracle how our janky old system just perked right up the second you walked into it’s life,” Eric lowers his forehead to hers, eyes flashing as he murmurs, “don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.”

A goofy smile spreads on her face at the contact, the shared secret, but she plays at a haughty tone, sniffing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I guess I just have that effect on computers.”

“Mmm, computers aren’t the only thing you have that effect on…” his fingers sweep from left to right across her back landing at her waist, “Some coincidence though that it started to show it’s fondness when we were all out in the field and you were alone inside…”

Penelope mockingly gasps and hits his shoulder, “That is a pretty serious accusation- Tampering with another office’s equipment, especially if it happens to be with code that isn’t on the market… I would never risk my job like that.”

Eric tilts his head, fingers curling and brushing down her sides, hands slipping lower as his hips continue to swing and guide her through the dance floor, "If I borrow Speed's bike, it'd only take us 20 minutes to get there..." He switches back to the original conversation, an art installation someone built under a freeway in Ft. Lauderdale, about 30 miles from where they are. “You’d love it, a woman prying herself apart, exploding with nature’s beauty, exposing a little hideaway of plants. Paradise in paradise big enough for two…”

Penelope laughs pulling back, eyes glittering up at him, the daiquiris working their way to her head, but still she feels some shadowy cause for refusal, “That’s gonna be a no for three reasons, Officer Delko; one, this hair does not go under a helmet. Two,” her fingers tap his chest as she counts off, “it certainly doesn’t go 90 miles an hour, even for art, even for a sculpture as finely constructed as you. And three,” He captures her fingers, kissing them, Penelope quickly pulls them out of his grasp, continuing, “AND THREE, we are not stealing your best friend's motorcycle.” Despite the part of her saying she can’t, she’s enjoyed flirting with him throughout the case, is enjoying the feeling she has right now… It’s been a while since she’s let herself act like this with someone, been receptive to someone chasing her like this, openly, honestly… maybe it’s because she knows it’s nothing serious…unlike…

“Officer? What happened to Eric, Penelope?” The stroke of his thumb as he purrs her name breaks her train of though, the humm of her skin under his, the pounding of the drums beneath the soles of her feet traveling up her legs. “Just leave Speed to me…unless there’s another reason you haven’t mentioned, give me half an hour and I bet I can strip those three reasons down to none…”

She smiles again, her cheeks smarting, her hand sliding from chest to flexing bicep, a week of playful toying volleyed back and forth coming to a head. She thinks of Emily, of HR…of Tara and JJ…and Luke…No, no other reason…no 6-foot, broad muscled, soft spoken… completely endearing trap of a reason. “I’m sure you’ve had lots of success stripping a lot of things down to none given very little time, Eric.”

He laughs, grinning at the blonde, a woman who, in spite of their myriad of differences, reminds him of someone else, someone he’s been waiting on to catch up to him, maybe in the same way he suspects Alvez to be waiting for her. Peering back at the tables, his eyes briefly connect with a piercing stare, Eric shakes his head and twirls Penelope in time with the music. If there really was nothing between them, he was definitely continuing tonight’s crusade, but maybe tonight would unearth something different.

~~~

“Not dancing, Alvez?” Luke gives a dismissive glance to the group in the middle of the tables “Floor looks a bit crowded…figure I’d cool off here with you two.” “Conversation with Reid heating up?” Tara questions. Luke smirks thinking about his slip, “Only if you’re a sailor.”

JJ leans forward planting her elbow in a clear spot on the table, chin in hand, “What about pirates? You’re not going to step in? I mean, there’s professional courtesy…and then there’s that,” she says as she points a finger toward the dance floor. The trio look over, finding Penelope and Delko not far from them, not that Luke isn’t already acutely aware of what’s happening to his left. Delko’s playbook is par for the course, though he can’t object to his taste. Still, sour irritation shadows his face at the sight, the reply coming out more terse than he intends, “Garcia knows what she’s doing, she doesn’t need saving, and she definitely wouldn’t appreciate it from me.”

Delko isn’t a bad guy, she doesn’t need protecting. Besides, she isn’t his to protect. Not by a long shot. Not even in his wildest dreams…And yet, something about him touching her, dancing with her…the way he leans in to whisper in her ear and she throws her head back laughing, blushing, touching him…how her hands rest on his chest, her focus immobile, singular, his hands dangerously close to…

Nothing- he reminds himself, ‘dangerously’ nothing. Penelope’s allowing this.

Still, the obvious assumption that her body is free rein to him, something about the whole thing makes his blood boil and fingers tense. Makes him simmer animalistic for reasons he knows he can’t legitimize.

Luke thinks about pulling anyone on to the dance floor, swaying and grinding, but it wouldn’t draw from her half of what she’s doing to him, possibly even reignite that bullshit macho player tag she loved to pin him with, and in the end it would only highlight his desperation to those who knew them best.

“Do you think she has a thing for bald, muscular guys, or is it just a coincidence?” Tara muses.

“Mmm, not sure…” JJ says thoughtfully, “What was it she said about Jason Statham…?”

“Oooh, that his voice grated on her.”

“Derek…Eric…Maybe it’s the names.” Tara and JJ trade teases back and forth, “Luke just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”

Tara’s words weasel their way through his thoughts in the way he wished someone would weasel their way between a particular pair of bodies. Chuckling, Luke turns his attention back to them, determined to let the situation roll away with the tide, “I know what you’re doing. You can stop, we’re teammates, friends, nothing more.”

“And here I heard the heart wants what the heart wants-”

At that his eyes snap to Tara, recklessly unaware of how close she is to voicing the truth he’d discovered about himself only so long ago.

“Thoughts, Luke?...No. Maybe the heart doesn’t want it bad enough-”

He’s well aware of JJ watching the exchange, his reaction, hopes he’s kept his cool, his looks neutral, like every time they’ve teased him before. But his mind can’t help but yell. The heart does want…the heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care.

Emily Dickinson, you aren’t a man in the specific situation of respecting the boundaries of work-friends-maybe-more relationships with a woman in the 21st century.

Thoughts race and images flood, feelings welling, churning. Between Penelope dancing with Delko, and Tara and JJ twisting the knife, his brain nearly doesn’t care.

Is Delko really that much more charming? Likable? Genuine? Could she never entertain the thought of seeing him as more? Admitting that she did? Even after all this time? See through her rash judgment? Or is it something else altogether?

She steps in and steps out, arm flying, tucking, being tugged and twirled, out like an unraveled cinnamon roll, and back in, her body with his, hips dipping and swaying wildly, Penelope whipped up. It’s a dizzying mix of daiquiri and gravity forming a delightful kind of vertigo, her body moves like the ocean, like it knows the steps before she does, his hands a magnificent guide drifting lower, lower, lower

Fuck it, ‘yo-ho’ Feet slapping brick, side stepping hips, dodging legs and skirts and errant hands, unable to stop the draw or contain the carefully boxed need, Luke parts the throng, led by the yearning to crash into her, the deep sense of knowing all would be right if she was just-

He could say there was no premeditation in the move, no planned action, that it was a case of catatonic automation, his hand reaching out as if not his own, snatching her away, but the force he uses to tandemly push Delko away is perhaps too much, and the fuzzing relief he feels as she rolls into him, giggling softly and grinning up at him is telling. He knew what he was doing, he simply didn’t care anymore.

Eric stumbles back, shoulders jostling as he regains balance from being propelled into those dancing around them and watches dazed for a second, mouth breaking into a lopsided grin, knowing. He watches Luke, watches Penelope, sees her expression and the way she relaxes- he hadn’t been the only one to know, the teasing was blatant, the lovesick look the agent gave to just one member of the visiting team, but her denial was so adamant he was willing to put aside his suspicions.

Penelope, tottering, can’t help but notice something’s different, she just can’t put her finger on it- The….hair? The build? No...maybe something around his eyes…it’s definitely in the eyes. Did he suddenly look older? -Those eyes, they put her at ease, the warmth suddenly flooding her, not at all connected to the heat of the day.

Luke doesn’t give a single glance in the direction of the friendly cop, no apology, no acknowledgement, all thought, all attention, devoted to the woman now at home in his arms. Penelope, right where he’s needed her for months now.

Lost in her eyes, he can feel that dumb smile creeping across his face, feel it even as the music stops and changes time, feels it as she stops, but the grin doesn’t break, and neither does her study.

That smile…those eyes…his hold is different now too. She’s still working out the change she can’t put her finger on when the song ends and the band, in a change of pace, opts for the first slow dance of the night. It’s a sultry bolero-son, slow, whining horns and guitar. She’s about to back off, but his hands hold her firm.

“Of all the things to scare Penelope Garcia, I didn’t think slow dancing would be one of them...” The smile shrinks to a small, lopsided teasing thing, eyes narrowing.

Breath catching at the accusation, at his hold, her eyes flicker across his face, sure that the key was just there… “Ha! Death, sure, dancing? Pft!”

Unwillingly her feet move, Luke turning them both, guiding them away from the tables, out of the vision of prying agents, closer to the music as he slowly dips and sways in time with the beat, “Prove it. Come on, dance with me, Penelope.” If she really didn’t want to, if she let go, he’d walk away…

Her eyes narrow in return, body pressing closer, leaning up to his ear when the light crisp smell hits her, warm eyes and teasing smile flashing through her mind, snapping into place, Alvez. Tara and JJ.

She jerks back, body freezing for a split second, the confirmation flitting and disappearing, Penelope quickly realizing she’s proven them right. Staying like this with him would only be further ammo…But then, while he’s here, she might as well mess with him. Leaning back in, Penelope’s lips brush his ear whispering, “Is dancing the only thing you want me to come on…and do tonight?” It’s bolder than anything she’s said to him before, possibly more telling, but the only one hearing it this time is him.

Reflexively Luke coughs a laugh, flustered, and ducks his chin away and to his shoulder, stepping back, putting space between them, acutely aware of the effect her proximity was having on him, how all of her melded in contact with all of him, the images thrust at him from the suggestive question. He shakes off the deliberate riling, the purpose behind it, then steps back into her space, determined to keep moving forward, “You’re not getting out of this that easy. Dance with me”

It’s insistent, but a question. One she makes the mistake of looking up at, looking at him, at the deep brown looking back at her, the soft pleading…and lets him hold her there, hold her in the same way she feels his arms, his hands holding her, soft, and warm, and steady and strong…and gives in. “ONE. One dance,” she agrees, though she isn’t sure why. “Call it your prize for today’s daring heroics.-NOT that I approve of heroics-” That damned smile spreads into those eyes at her edict and she hates it, but not as much as she likes that she knows it’s just for her…

Work, friends, maybe more…Maybe one day they’d figure it out for real…Maybe one day she’d let him. Maybe one day he’d give up. But tonight they’re dancing. Tonight the stars are shining above them and the waves are crashing in the distance and the band is playing loud and clear and everyone else is miles away and it’s just them, just him, just one dance…and who’s to say if neither of them notice when one song blends into the next, when night blends into day, when nothing blends into something…

#criminal minds #csi miami #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #eric delko #jj #tara lewis #fan fiction #snail's tales #ao3

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rubyarrows · 7 months

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Pretend Dates

The sun hung low in the Miami sky as YN and Ryan Wolfe arrived at their family's gathering. It had been a while since they'd all come together like this, and the warmth of familiarity mixed with a tinge of nervousness as they walked hand in hand.

As they approached the entrance, YN gave Ryan a quick, reassuring smile. They stepped into the event, greeted by a sea of relatives, all eager to catch up and ask questions.

"YN! Ryan!" their cousin Melissa exclaimed, swooping in for a hug. "It's been forever!"

Ryan grinned and hugged her back. "Yeah, it has. Good to see you, Mel."

YN exchanged pleasantries with various family members, the conversation swirling around recent events, jobs, and life in general. But as the night wore on, YN could feel the curious eyes of their family members on her. She knew the question was coming.

"So, YNN, still flying solo?" her aunt Maria asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

YN's cheeks tinged with a blush, and she glanced at Ryan for moral support. "Um, well..."

Just then, Eric Delko, her close friend and colleague, appeared at her side, his smile easygoing. "Hey, YNN. Sorry I'm late."

YN's eyes met Ryan's, and they shared an unspoken understanding. She turned to face her aunt. "Actually, Aunt Maria, I'd like you to meet Eric. He's my date for the night."

Aunt Maria's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh! Well, isn't that lovely."

YN's hand found Eric's arm, and she gave him a grateful look. He played along seamlessly, offering his hand to Aunt Maria.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I've heard a lot about your wonderful family."

Aunt Maria beamed, her curiosity seemingly satisfied. "Well, we're a lively bunch, that's for sure."

As the night continued, YN and Eric played their roles well, sharing stories, laughter, and even a few casual touches that added authenticity to their charade. YN's family seemed pleased with the situation, their questioning looks replaced with knowing smiles.

"You're a lifesaver, Eric," YN whispered to him as they found a quiet moment by the bar.

Eric grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "Anything for my favorite co-worker's sibling. Besides, you owe me a coffee for this."

YN chuckled, her heart warmed by his willingness to step in and help. "Deal."

As the night drew to a close, YN felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Her family was happy, and the evening had been a success, thanks in no small part to Eric's support.

Ryan joined her side, his own date having excused herself earlier. He nudged her playfully. "You know, this whole fake dating thing might become a tradition."

YN rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Don't push your luck, big brother."

As the evening winded down and the crowd began to disperse, YN found herself sitting on a quiet corner of the patio with Eric. The gentle hum of conversation and the twinkling lights created a serene atmosphere, giving them a moment of respite from the lively family gathering.

"Thanks again, Eric," YN said, her voice soft as she looked at him. "You really saved me back there."

Eric leaned back in his chair, a playful grin on his face. "Well, I'm glad I could help, even if it means I'm now forever known as your 'fake date'."

YN chuckled, her gaze warm. "Honestly, I don't know what I would have done without you."

Eric's expression softened, his gaze holding hers. "YNN, you know you can count on me, right? No matter what."

Her heart skipped a beat at his sincerity. She had always admired Eric's loyalty and caring nature, but tonight had shown her a new depth to their friendship. "I do, Eric. And I hope you know the same goes for you."

As they sat there, their conversation shifted from light banter to more personal topics. They talked about their aspirations, their pasts, and the shared experiences that had brought them closer as friends and colleagues. YN found herself opening up in ways she hadn't expected, a sense of ease settling between them.

"I've always been impressed by your dedication and strength, YNN," Eric admitted, his eyes locked onto hers. "You've been through a lot, yet you still keep pushing forward."

YN looked down at her hands, a soft smile on her lips. "I guess I've learned that life's challenges can shape you into someone stronger, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

Eric reached across the table, his fingers gently lifting her chin so she met his gaze. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, the connection between them felt deeper than friendship. It was a bond that had grown through shared experiences, trust, and a genuine understanding of each other's strengths and vulnerabilities.

The night grew quieter around them, the air filled with a sense of serenity and possibility. As they continued talking, YN realized that sometimes the people who entered your life as friends could become something more, something unexpected and beautiful.

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