Reason Enough
For: seraphina_snape as part of crimeland's gift-giving challenge.
Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened...
- The Buddha
Garcia never needed an excuse to have a party. One day, after a particularly rough day of counseling victim's families, and an equally difficult case where she'd needed to play profiler, Garcia poured herself into her party mindset.
A lemon bundt cake regularly had the ability to lift her spirits, so she set to baking. She decided to frost half and leave the other half bare - an old habit from when she was growing up with her brothers. They had liked frosting. She hadn't. Their mom had compromised. This was one of those times when Garcia allowed herself to feel connected to her mother without old grief nipping at her heels. In the kitchen, her mother had been a master. If Garcia was a tech-savvy goddess, her mom was the queen of all things cooked and baked. She could do better than a lemon bundt cake, easily, but it was one thing they used to make together. It always made her feel better.
There was a short knock and her door was pushed open.
"Garcia?" a disembodied voice called.
"In here."
In seconds, there was Hotch, looking stressed and a little frantic. That wasn't like him. But Garcia beamed. That just meant he had come to the right place.
"What is..." he pulled out his phone and checked it. "811?"
"The three most important numbers of your life tonight. Here, taste this," she said, offering him a still-warm slice of cake. "It's a code for party-happening-stat."
"Did I miss a birthday?" he asked, still a little irritated.
"Nope," Garcia answered cheerfully as there was another round of knocks on her door. "Enter!" she called.
In strode Derek. With him, he carried a bottle of wine, and what looked like it should have been a heart-shaped Funfetti cake. But the heart was seriously imbalanced and the pink frosting ran off the cake in a way that suggested that he had frosted it too soon.
"Hey! Got the 811, girl! Here's my contribution. Taste and be amazed," he offered, and before she could object, Derek poked a fork full of cake into her mouth.
"Does everyone know about this 811 but me?" Hotch asked, slightly confused.
"Pretty much," Reid concurred, walking in, and instantly hitting his head on the Valentine's decorations that hung from Garcia's ceiling. She glanced up as he knocked it out of the way.
"You are loved because you are uber cool," he read, squinting. "What does this mean exactly?"
"Garcia, this better be good," Emily demanded, letting herself in and standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips.
"Ooh... Was somebody gettin' some action tonight?" Derek teased.
"Shut up," Emily retorted, but a smile threatened, at the sight of Reid, ducking to avoid paper hearts, Hotch eating freshly baked cake at Garcia's kitchen table, and Morgan praising his own cake though it looked like it was lacking some major ingredient.
"Yeah, baby... There you go..." Derek praised, speaking lowly to the cake and looking exceedingly proud of himself.
--
Rossi let himself in, which wasn't hard since Garcia's door was ajar. He took in the many hearts. The cake. Prentiss, looking unexpectedly nice in a red ensemble, and cleared his throat. "It's not Valentine's Day..." he objected mildly.
"Who said it was?" Garcia answered happily. "Cake?" she offered.
Ashley declined to come, not feeling comfortable yet socializing with the team outside of the BAU. That bummed out Garcia, but just a little. She already had plans to surprise her with some goodies bright and early tomorrow.
--
JJ let herself in, surprised and happy to see everyone else had decided to come. She saw construction paper hearts above her head, and snagged one. Reid was staring intently at his own. JJ nearly snorted reading the message that seemed solely appropriate for her.
You are loved because you keep us all in line. You know who you are.
She slid in against the wall, closest to Spencer who was squinting at the heart he held as if it held state secrets.
JJ waved hello to the familiar faces, grateful to still be included on Garcia's 811 party texts, that were "more significant than information but only slightly less important than an emergency."
Not bothering to greet her, Reid thrust the heart into JJ's hands. "I don't understand this. Uber literally means above or dominant in German. And cool generally indicates temperature below what's comfortable. Loving me because I am warm doesn't seem like a valid reason..."
"Then, here. Just look at this," JJ said easily, covering up all but the first three words.
"You are loved," Spencer read, still slightly confused.
"That's the important part," JJ told him, smiling.
"Oh." He nodded a little. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips.
"Hey! Let's get the party started! JJ's here, y'all!" Derek hollered, just as Garcia presented her with a piece of lemon cake.
--
Looking at her house full of guests, Garcia felt content. Following Reid's lead, all of them had grabbed their own pink heart on purple yarn and were reading her self-affirming messages.
Garcia sighed, pleased.
Like she always said, she didn't need a reason to throw a party.
Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened...
- The Buddha
Garcia never needed an excuse to have a party. One day, after a particularly rough day of counseling victim's families, and an equally difficult case where she'd needed to play profiler, Garcia poured herself into her party mindset.
A lemon bundt cake regularly had the ability to lift her spirits, so she set to baking. She decided to frost half and leave the other half bare - an old habit from when she was growing up with her brothers. They had liked frosting. She hadn't. Their mom had compromised. This was one of those times when Garcia allowed herself to feel connected to her mother without old grief nipping at her heels. In the kitchen, her mother had been a master. If Garcia was a tech-savvy goddess, her mom was the queen of all things cooked and baked. She could do better than a lemon bundt cake, easily, but it was one thing they used to make together. It always made her feel better.
There was a short knock and her door was pushed open.
"Garcia?" a disembodied voice called.
"In here."
In seconds, there was Hotch, looking stressed and a little frantic. That wasn't like him. But Garcia beamed. That just meant he had come to the right place.
"What is..." he pulled out his phone and checked it. "811?"
"The three most important numbers of your life tonight. Here, taste this," she said, offering him a still-warm slice of cake. "It's a code for party-happening-stat."
"Did I miss a birthday?" he asked, still a little irritated.
"Nope," Garcia answered cheerfully as there was another round of knocks on her door. "Enter!" she called.
In strode Derek. With him, he carried a bottle of wine, and what looked like it should have been a heart-shaped Funfetti cake. But the heart was seriously imbalanced and the pink frosting ran off the cake in a way that suggested that he had frosted it too soon.
"Hey! Got the 811, girl! Here's my contribution. Taste and be amazed," he offered, and before she could object, Derek poked a fork full of cake into her mouth.
"Does everyone know about this 811 but me?" Hotch asked, slightly confused.
"Pretty much," Reid concurred, walking in, and instantly hitting his head on the Valentine's decorations that hung from Garcia's ceiling. She glanced up as he knocked it out of the way.
"You are loved because you are uber cool," he read, squinting. "What does this mean exactly?"
"Garcia, this better be good," Emily demanded, letting herself in and standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips.
"Ooh... Was somebody gettin' some action tonight?" Derek teased.
"Shut up," Emily retorted, but a smile threatened, at the sight of Reid, ducking to avoid paper hearts, Hotch eating freshly baked cake at Garcia's kitchen table, and Morgan praising his own cake though it looked like it was lacking some major ingredient.
"Yeah, baby... There you go..." Derek praised, speaking lowly to the cake and looking exceedingly proud of himself.
--
Rossi let himself in, which wasn't hard since Garcia's door was ajar. He took in the many hearts. The cake. Prentiss, looking unexpectedly nice in a red ensemble, and cleared his throat. "It's not Valentine's Day..." he objected mildly.
"Who said it was?" Garcia answered happily. "Cake?" she offered.
Ashley declined to come, not feeling comfortable yet socializing with the team outside of the BAU. That bummed out Garcia, but just a little. She already had plans to surprise her with some goodies bright and early tomorrow.
--
JJ let herself in, surprised and happy to see everyone else had decided to come. She saw construction paper hearts above her head, and snagged one. Reid was staring intently at his own. JJ nearly snorted reading the message that seemed solely appropriate for her.
You are loved because you keep us all in line. You know who you are.
She slid in against the wall, closest to Spencer who was squinting at the heart he held as if it held state secrets.
JJ waved hello to the familiar faces, grateful to still be included on Garcia's 811 party texts, that were "more significant than information but only slightly less important than an emergency."
Not bothering to greet her, Reid thrust the heart into JJ's hands. "I don't understand this. Uber literally means above or dominant in German. And cool generally indicates temperature below what's comfortable. Loving me because I am warm doesn't seem like a valid reason..."
"Then, here. Just look at this," JJ said easily, covering up all but the first three words.
"You are loved," Spencer read, still slightly confused.
"That's the important part," JJ told him, smiling.
"Oh." He nodded a little. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips.
"Hey! Let's get the party started! JJ's here, y'all!" Derek hollered, just as Garcia presented her with a piece of lemon cake.
--
Looking at her house full of guests, Garcia felt content. Following Reid's lead, all of them had grabbed their own pink heart on purple yarn and were reading her self-affirming messages.
Garcia sighed, pleased.
Like she always said, she didn't need a reason to throw a party.