New Criminal Minds Fic
Title: In The Park With Sam
Pairing/Characters: Morgan, Garcia
Rating: T+
Summary: Morgan is there for Garcia and vise versus.
Word Count: 3047
Spoilers: Profiler, Profiled
Notes/Warnings: Please see Assertion (aka: Emma’s “Confession” lovingly ripped off and renamed) for several really long notes.
Disclaimer: My lack of a mind might be criminal, but I don’t own Criminal Minds!!
Prompt: #6 If I know what love is, it is because of you. by HERMAN HESSE
Derek Morgan felt a little bit like he was trying to sneak into town and, frankly, that was exactly what he was doing. He had booked a flight from Chicago that would get him into Reagan National in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. This guaranteed that his coworkers and neighbors would all be tucked into their office for at least a few more hours. All he wanted to do was to collect his dog and head home to be by himself and with a six-pack. The past week in Chicago had been emotionally and physically draining and he was dreading facing his co-workers on Monday.
Speaking of his co-workers, the main reason he had changed his ticket to get in during the middle of the afternoon was that Penelope Garcia was dog sitting for him. She had started taking care of Clooney over a year before when, at the last minute, the team had been called out on a case and his regular sitter hadn't been available. Garcia had willingly offered to do it and Clooney had taken such a liking to the perky blond that it had become a permanent situation. One that Derek was normally thrilled about, because often after a long or difficult case it wasn’t unusual for him to go pick up Clooney and Garcia and he would end up spending the night together, either talking or just holding each other in silence. However, today he had no desire to see Garcia. Actually, he desperately wanted to see her, but was terrified that after all he was sure she had learned in the last week, their friendship (or was it more?) had been eternally changed. So, he decided he was going to collect his dog and go home. After all, who could have a good sulk without a faithful companion to sit with you?
Morgan used his key to let himself into the "secure" building. He had to laugh at the property management company's use of the word secure, since he'd seen more than one resident let complete strangers slip into the building and he, himself, had an illegal duplicate key for one of the apartments. Garcia had tried to get him a key through the proper channels, but had been promptly informed that she couldn’t have a key cut for a nonresident. Of course, Morgan couldn’t help but think that this sudden "new policy" had something to do with the fact that Garcia was a very blue-eyed blond and he… wasn’t. The property might be “fair housing compliant,” but that didn’t mean the staff had to like it. And, to be fair, he was grateful that she had moved to a much nicer and much safer building in Alexandria than the rickety walk up she'd had in DC.
Sighing, he pressed the button for the elevator and was rewarded with the doors sliding open instantly, another benefit of the mid afternoon hour. The trip up to the sixth floor was decidedly quick as Morgan tried to compose what he was going to say in the note he planned to leave for Garcia. Everything seemed too trite or would put her into mother hen overdrive, but he couldn’t just take Clooney. Getting off the elevator, Morgan felt like his feet were made of concrete. It shouldn’t be this hard to walk the few feet to Garcia’s door.
When he finally made his way to the apartment and opened the door, Morgan was shocked when Clooney wasn’t sitting at the door waiting to greet him. His dog had an amazing intuition and always knew when someone was nearing the door. If it was someone he didn’t know, he would bark incessantly, but if it was Garcia or Morgan, he would just sit there with his tail wagging. The lack of Clooney worried him slightly.
Instinctively, he reached for his gun, but he'd had to pack it in his luggage for the flight. Deciding that the baseball bat - which if he did end up using would mean Garcia would kill him since Mike Schmidt signed it - by the front door would have to do, he crept into the apartment. The living room, dining room, kitchen and half bath were all clear. The bedroom and bath suite was the last place to look. Raising the bat a little higher, he turned towards the back of the apartment. The bedroom was dark and deserted, but there was a light coming from the bathroom.
The scene that greeted him as he moved into the bathroom nearly made him drop the baseball bat. Garcia was curled up on the floor next to toilet with Clooney snuggled against her. Both occupants of the room looked up at him with similarly miserable expressions.
“Unless you intend to finish me off with that thing, you can drop the bat,” Garcia’s wry humor was laced with an aching tiredness and truly un-Garcia-like voice. Clooney looked up at his master, but soon returned to trying to comfort his part-time mistress.
Dropping to his knees, the bat clattering against the tile, Morgan ran a hand over Garcia’s face, “What’s wrong, baby girl?”
“Flu,” was all she could muster as she leaned into his hand.
“Since when,” Morgan noticed that she was in work clothes and could only pray that she hadn’t been like this since yesterday evening.
“About eleven,” Garcia sighed. Sad eyes looked at him, “I tried to go to work, but I ended up throwing up on Hotch’s shoes. Gideon sent me home.”
Morgan had to suppress the laughter building within him, as he reached for her, “Oh, come on, baby girl. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Garcia tried to joke as she allowed Morgan to pull her to her feet, but it came out somewhat whiny instead.
Kissing her forehead, Morgan laughed, “Only the gorgeous ones.”
Garcia flopped on the bed, “Angel, you need your eyes checked. I’m one giant pile of yuck right now.”
Morgan smiled tenderly, “Most beautiful yuck I’ve ever seen.” Sitting on the bed next to her hip, he ran a hand over her hair, “I’m going to get your jammies and then I’ll get you some Sprite and crackers.”
“Thank you,” Garcia smiled weakly at him. “I think Clooney will need to go out soon.”
“Don’t worry, I can take care of my own dog,” he watched as at the mention of his name the dog climbed onto the bed and laid his head on Garcia. “Even if he likes you better.” Giving a pat to the dog’s head, Morgan headed to the bath to grab the pajamas hanging on the hook behind the door.
After giving Garcia the pajamas and making sure she didn’t need help to get changed, Morgan headed to the kitchen. Garcia’s kitchen was always better stocked than his, but he couldn’t find either Sprite or crackers anywhere. And her selection of soups was decidedly lacking anything bland enough that he might be able to tempt her to eat later. He had also checked the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found a lack of cold or flu medicines. Taking a few minutes to jot down the needed items so he wouldn’t forget, Morgan headed back into the bedroom.
Garcia had gotten changed and was now curled under the blankets. Clooney was still laying obediently by her side. Returning to his position by her hip, Morgan took her hand, “The cupboard is unusually bare, baby girl.”
“I always make sure I shop before you get back from a trip,” Garcia’s flushed cheeks got even redder. “I don’t want you thinking I’m a bad housekeeper.”
Smiling at her, he shook his head, “You’re a goddess. How could you be bad at anything?” Her blush increased. “I’m going to head to the drug store down the corner and get some sustenance and medicine for you. He’s not going to want to go, but I’m taking Clooney with me.”
Garcia turned slightly panicked eyes to him, “Could you wait just a little bit? I hate being alone when I’m sick and… and… I’ve missed you.”
“Of course,” Morgan scooted her and the dog over as he turned in the bed and leaned against the headboard.
Protesting slightly, Garcia allowed him to pull her into his arms, “You’re going to get sick.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to take care of me. Any possibility you’d have a nurse’s uniform,” Morgan dropped a kiss on her crown.
“Only in your dreams,” Garcia snuggled against him. Her hand found his chest and after a few moments began tracing his muscles. A few moments after that, she spoke, “I’m sorry.”
Morgan didn’t open his eyes that had dropped closed, “It’s okay. You couldn’t help getting sick.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Garcia sighed as her hand continued to move. “I mean, I’m sorry about Chicago. About the boy. About that cop. About being forced to open your record. And mostly about Carl Buford not being the man you thought he was. I read his letter, he really loved you.”
Morgan’s whole body went rigid at Garcia’s words. In his concern for her, he had nearly forgotten the week previous and he had completely forgotten about her part in it. He really hadn’t cared about her finding his juvenile record, as he believed someday he would have told her about it. It was her last statement that truly bothered him. He may have thought that someday he would tell her about his record, but he never wanted her to know about what had happened with that man. He didn't even want her to know that man's name. What that man had felt for him was nothing like love; it was evil pure and simple. All his initial fears about returning home resettled in the pit of his stomach. Her touch, normally soothing, suddenly burned him.
Pulling out from under her, Morgan grumbled, “I’m going to the store.”
He had to pull Clooney by the collar to get him to leave Garcia, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. He could hear her calling after him, but was out the door before he could hear her sobs.
He had at least thought to grab Clooney’s leash and on the sidewalk, he attached the lead to the dog’s collar. Jaywalking across the street, Morgan walked into the park. Looking down at an utterly confused dog, Morgan sighed, “Com’on, boy, time for a run.”
Man and man’s best friend set off at a dead run. Morgan wasn’t really equipped for such a run in his jeans and casual sneakers, but it didn’t matter. As they ran, sweat soaked through Morgan’s t-shirt plastering it to his muscled frame. His jeans chafed uncomfortably, but he ignored it. After listening to Garcia, every muscle in his body twitched and longed for physical release.
He also longed to run away. Run away from his past, from his memories, from the pain, from love, from Garcia. Of course, running from Garcia was running from love; even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.
Clooney panted as he kept up with his master. His lean muscles working harder than they had during the more leisurely walks he had enjoyed while he was with Garcia. Morgan began to slowdown and came to a stop. He was bent over, his hands on his knees and breathing raggedly. Clooney was still ready to run and when he heard a familiar voice, he ran towards it.
Morgan gave a little startled cry as Clooney’s leash pulled from his hand. The dog was headed straight for an extremely tall woman with long, curly, black hair who was playing with a huge golden retriever. Morgan opened his mouth to call Clooney when he realized that the woman was kneeling with open arms waiting for him. Clooney greeted the woman in a manner not quiet as affectionate as he greeted Morgan or Garcia but similar and immediately began to romp with another dog in a way Morgan had never seen before.
As Morgan neared, the woman smiled and tossed him an unopened water bottle from her bag, “Saw that mini-marathon you just put on and thought you could use that.”
“Thanks,” Morgan took as much water as his cramping stomach would allow and turned back to her, “Derek…”
“Morgan. I know. I’m Sheri, but everybody calls me Sam. Pen’s told me all about you. Pen and I met when our dogs tried to mate, which is a little confusing since they are both boys, but as long as they are happy. Pen told me that Clo is your dog, but I’m beginning to think it is hers since she has him so often,” Sam pushed some of her bushy hair out of her face. “It is so nice to finally met Clooney’s Daddy, cause he’s got such an awesome Momma.”
Morgan wasn’t sure how to respond. The woman talked fasted than an excited Reid and it had taken him much longer than it should have to figure out who the hell Pen was. It was rare to hear her called Penelope, and rarer still to hear a nickname as most received the “glare of death” when they tried. Before he could respond, however, Clooney reappeared and started rummaging through Sam’s bag.
“Clooney,” Morgan’s voice was harsh as he pulled the dog’s head from the bag. “You know better.”
Sam laughed, “He’s just looking for water.” She proceeded to pull an expensive dog bottle water dispenser from the bag and let Clooney drink. “Hope you don’t mind, but Pen lets Clo and Samson share.”
Morgan nodded, “That’s fine.”
Not that Sam heard or cared. She had turned back to Clooney and was playing with him, “So where’s Momma, Clo? Huh? Where’s Momma?”
Clooney cocked his head at Morgan as if to say, "you answer her; I can’t talk."
Realizing that Momma must be Garcia, Morgan sighed, “She’s got the flu. I just needed to run to the store to pick up a few things, but I thought Clooney could use a good run.”
Sam smiled, “Judging by the thunderclouds on your face, you needed one as well. You and Pen have a fight?”
“No,” Morgan shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
For the first time since meeting this woman, Sam suddenly looked very serious and much older, “That’s good. Pen is a good woman and very much devoted to you. You may not realize it yet, but that woman would do anything for you. She’d move mountains for you. She’d defend you to the death and protect you… Even if it was just from yourself.”
Morgan stared at her. She was right. “I do know that.”
“Then tell her that and tell her the truth,” Sam went back to watching the dogs play.
Clooney really seemed to enjoy playing with Samson, which Morgan decided was a good thing. He asked Sam if she would watch Clooney while he ran to the CVS on the corner.
Sam had agreed and Morgan was back before Clooney even noticed his absence. Sam was in the same place reading a law text. The dogs played a few feet away. Thanking Sam, Morgan called Clooney, who came instantly.
Morgan had to laugh at the confused look on the dog’s face, “Ready to go see Momma, Clooney?”
He obliviously was since he started towards the building. The duo quickly made their way back to Garcia’s apartment. When Morgan opened the door, he was shocked to find Garcia sitting on the couch, crying into the phone, “Momma, what are you doing out of bed?”
“Derek,” Garcia squeaked tearfully as she dropped the phone and ran into his arms. “I thought you left and I couldn’t find you! I thought you hated me and didn’t want to talk to me.”
Morgan shook his head and took her chin in his hand as he gently kissed her, “Don’t be ridiculous, Momma, I’ll always want to talk to my goddess. But, I want her well. You’re going to crawl back in bed and I’m going to get a shower and then get you something light to eat, okay?”
“Okay,” Garcia’s smile returned. Sighing slightly, she shook her head, "When exactly did I become such a weepy, emotional schoolgirl?"
"The moment you fell under my charms," Morgan winked, playfully.
"Sure," Garcia elongated the word seriously as her eyes rolled. “Oh, and you keep kissing me; you really are going to get sick.”
Giving her a gentle smack to the rear as she headed into the bedroom, “Don’t worry I got a nurse’s uniform while I was out, so you can take care of me properly.”
Morgan heard a snort from Garcia’s direction and giggling from the phone on the couch. He recognized the laughter as belonging to JJ and Reid, but really didn’t care as he dropped the phone back into its cradle. He had already come to decisions after talking to Sam.
A few hours later; after a long shower for Morgan, a light supper of soup, and long talk that opened old wounds, spilled many tears, and brought them much closer; found Morgan and Garcia curled in bed watching an awful reality show. Garcia was sitting with her back against Morgan’s chest. Their hands were intertwined and Morgan was enjoying the sight of their contrasting colors blending together with her magenta nail polish occasionally adding a shot of color.
“Sugar,” Garcia’s quiet voice was a question.
“Yeah, Momma,” Morgan murmured against her hair.
Garcia wrapped their arms tighter about her, as if she was still afraid he’d leave, “Why?”
Morgan understood that she meant why did he tell her everything and declare his feelings now. He had to laugh a little, “Cause I met Sam in the park.”
“What,” Garcia turned to look at him.
“She called me Clooney’s Daddy and you his Momma and I realized I kinda liked that. And she said some other things. I don’t know I guess she got me thinking and I just wanted you to know everything.”
“Oh,” Garcia turned back and resettled in his arms.
“Penelope,” Morgan gathered her closer, “If I know what love is, it is because of you.”
Pairing/Characters: Morgan, Garcia
Rating: T+
Summary: Morgan is there for Garcia and vise versus.
Word Count: 3047
Spoilers: Profiler, Profiled
Notes/Warnings: Please see Assertion (aka: Emma’s “Confession” lovingly ripped off and renamed) for several really long notes.
Disclaimer: My lack of a mind might be criminal, but I don’t own Criminal Minds!!
Prompt: #6 If I know what love is, it is because of you. by HERMAN HESSE
Derek Morgan felt a little bit like he was trying to sneak into town and, frankly, that was exactly what he was doing. He had booked a flight from Chicago that would get him into Reagan National in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. This guaranteed that his coworkers and neighbors would all be tucked into their office for at least a few more hours. All he wanted to do was to collect his dog and head home to be by himself and with a six-pack. The past week in Chicago had been emotionally and physically draining and he was dreading facing his co-workers on Monday.
Speaking of his co-workers, the main reason he had changed his ticket to get in during the middle of the afternoon was that Penelope Garcia was dog sitting for him. She had started taking care of Clooney over a year before when, at the last minute, the team had been called out on a case and his regular sitter hadn't been available. Garcia had willingly offered to do it and Clooney had taken such a liking to the perky blond that it had become a permanent situation. One that Derek was normally thrilled about, because often after a long or difficult case it wasn’t unusual for him to go pick up Clooney and Garcia and he would end up spending the night together, either talking or just holding each other in silence. However, today he had no desire to see Garcia. Actually, he desperately wanted to see her, but was terrified that after all he was sure she had learned in the last week, their friendship (or was it more?) had been eternally changed. So, he decided he was going to collect his dog and go home. After all, who could have a good sulk without a faithful companion to sit with you?
Morgan used his key to let himself into the "secure" building. He had to laugh at the property management company's use of the word secure, since he'd seen more than one resident let complete strangers slip into the building and he, himself, had an illegal duplicate key for one of the apartments. Garcia had tried to get him a key through the proper channels, but had been promptly informed that she couldn’t have a key cut for a nonresident. Of course, Morgan couldn’t help but think that this sudden "new policy" had something to do with the fact that Garcia was a very blue-eyed blond and he… wasn’t. The property might be “fair housing compliant,” but that didn’t mean the staff had to like it. And, to be fair, he was grateful that she had moved to a much nicer and much safer building in Alexandria than the rickety walk up she'd had in DC.
Sighing, he pressed the button for the elevator and was rewarded with the doors sliding open instantly, another benefit of the mid afternoon hour. The trip up to the sixth floor was decidedly quick as Morgan tried to compose what he was going to say in the note he planned to leave for Garcia. Everything seemed too trite or would put her into mother hen overdrive, but he couldn’t just take Clooney. Getting off the elevator, Morgan felt like his feet were made of concrete. It shouldn’t be this hard to walk the few feet to Garcia’s door.
When he finally made his way to the apartment and opened the door, Morgan was shocked when Clooney wasn’t sitting at the door waiting to greet him. His dog had an amazing intuition and always knew when someone was nearing the door. If it was someone he didn’t know, he would bark incessantly, but if it was Garcia or Morgan, he would just sit there with his tail wagging. The lack of Clooney worried him slightly.
Instinctively, he reached for his gun, but he'd had to pack it in his luggage for the flight. Deciding that the baseball bat - which if he did end up using would mean Garcia would kill him since Mike Schmidt signed it - by the front door would have to do, he crept into the apartment. The living room, dining room, kitchen and half bath were all clear. The bedroom and bath suite was the last place to look. Raising the bat a little higher, he turned towards the back of the apartment. The bedroom was dark and deserted, but there was a light coming from the bathroom.
The scene that greeted him as he moved into the bathroom nearly made him drop the baseball bat. Garcia was curled up on the floor next to toilet with Clooney snuggled against her. Both occupants of the room looked up at him with similarly miserable expressions.
“Unless you intend to finish me off with that thing, you can drop the bat,” Garcia’s wry humor was laced with an aching tiredness and truly un-Garcia-like voice. Clooney looked up at his master, but soon returned to trying to comfort his part-time mistress.
Dropping to his knees, the bat clattering against the tile, Morgan ran a hand over Garcia’s face, “What’s wrong, baby girl?”
“Flu,” was all she could muster as she leaned into his hand.
“Since when,” Morgan noticed that she was in work clothes and could only pray that she hadn’t been like this since yesterday evening.
“About eleven,” Garcia sighed. Sad eyes looked at him, “I tried to go to work, but I ended up throwing up on Hotch’s shoes. Gideon sent me home.”
Morgan had to suppress the laughter building within him, as he reached for her, “Oh, come on, baby girl. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Garcia tried to joke as she allowed Morgan to pull her to her feet, but it came out somewhat whiny instead.
Kissing her forehead, Morgan laughed, “Only the gorgeous ones.”
Garcia flopped on the bed, “Angel, you need your eyes checked. I’m one giant pile of yuck right now.”
Morgan smiled tenderly, “Most beautiful yuck I’ve ever seen.” Sitting on the bed next to her hip, he ran a hand over her hair, “I’m going to get your jammies and then I’ll get you some Sprite and crackers.”
“Thank you,” Garcia smiled weakly at him. “I think Clooney will need to go out soon.”
“Don’t worry, I can take care of my own dog,” he watched as at the mention of his name the dog climbed onto the bed and laid his head on Garcia. “Even if he likes you better.” Giving a pat to the dog’s head, Morgan headed to the bath to grab the pajamas hanging on the hook behind the door.
After giving Garcia the pajamas and making sure she didn’t need help to get changed, Morgan headed to the kitchen. Garcia’s kitchen was always better stocked than his, but he couldn’t find either Sprite or crackers anywhere. And her selection of soups was decidedly lacking anything bland enough that he might be able to tempt her to eat later. He had also checked the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found a lack of cold or flu medicines. Taking a few minutes to jot down the needed items so he wouldn’t forget, Morgan headed back into the bedroom.
Garcia had gotten changed and was now curled under the blankets. Clooney was still laying obediently by her side. Returning to his position by her hip, Morgan took her hand, “The cupboard is unusually bare, baby girl.”
“I always make sure I shop before you get back from a trip,” Garcia’s flushed cheeks got even redder. “I don’t want you thinking I’m a bad housekeeper.”
Smiling at her, he shook his head, “You’re a goddess. How could you be bad at anything?” Her blush increased. “I’m going to head to the drug store down the corner and get some sustenance and medicine for you. He’s not going to want to go, but I’m taking Clooney with me.”
Garcia turned slightly panicked eyes to him, “Could you wait just a little bit? I hate being alone when I’m sick and… and… I’ve missed you.”
“Of course,” Morgan scooted her and the dog over as he turned in the bed and leaned against the headboard.
Protesting slightly, Garcia allowed him to pull her into his arms, “You’re going to get sick.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to take care of me. Any possibility you’d have a nurse’s uniform,” Morgan dropped a kiss on her crown.
“Only in your dreams,” Garcia snuggled against him. Her hand found his chest and after a few moments began tracing his muscles. A few moments after that, she spoke, “I’m sorry.”
Morgan didn’t open his eyes that had dropped closed, “It’s okay. You couldn’t help getting sick.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Garcia sighed as her hand continued to move. “I mean, I’m sorry about Chicago. About the boy. About that cop. About being forced to open your record. And mostly about Carl Buford not being the man you thought he was. I read his letter, he really loved you.”
Morgan’s whole body went rigid at Garcia’s words. In his concern for her, he had nearly forgotten the week previous and he had completely forgotten about her part in it. He really hadn’t cared about her finding his juvenile record, as he believed someday he would have told her about it. It was her last statement that truly bothered him. He may have thought that someday he would tell her about his record, but he never wanted her to know about what had happened with that man. He didn't even want her to know that man's name. What that man had felt for him was nothing like love; it was evil pure and simple. All his initial fears about returning home resettled in the pit of his stomach. Her touch, normally soothing, suddenly burned him.
Pulling out from under her, Morgan grumbled, “I’m going to the store.”
He had to pull Clooney by the collar to get him to leave Garcia, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. He could hear her calling after him, but was out the door before he could hear her sobs.
He had at least thought to grab Clooney’s leash and on the sidewalk, he attached the lead to the dog’s collar. Jaywalking across the street, Morgan walked into the park. Looking down at an utterly confused dog, Morgan sighed, “Com’on, boy, time for a run.”
Man and man’s best friend set off at a dead run. Morgan wasn’t really equipped for such a run in his jeans and casual sneakers, but it didn’t matter. As they ran, sweat soaked through Morgan’s t-shirt plastering it to his muscled frame. His jeans chafed uncomfortably, but he ignored it. After listening to Garcia, every muscle in his body twitched and longed for physical release.
He also longed to run away. Run away from his past, from his memories, from the pain, from love, from Garcia. Of course, running from Garcia was running from love; even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.
Clooney panted as he kept up with his master. His lean muscles working harder than they had during the more leisurely walks he had enjoyed while he was with Garcia. Morgan began to slowdown and came to a stop. He was bent over, his hands on his knees and breathing raggedly. Clooney was still ready to run and when he heard a familiar voice, he ran towards it.
Morgan gave a little startled cry as Clooney’s leash pulled from his hand. The dog was headed straight for an extremely tall woman with long, curly, black hair who was playing with a huge golden retriever. Morgan opened his mouth to call Clooney when he realized that the woman was kneeling with open arms waiting for him. Clooney greeted the woman in a manner not quiet as affectionate as he greeted Morgan or Garcia but similar and immediately began to romp with another dog in a way Morgan had never seen before.
As Morgan neared, the woman smiled and tossed him an unopened water bottle from her bag, “Saw that mini-marathon you just put on and thought you could use that.”
“Thanks,” Morgan took as much water as his cramping stomach would allow and turned back to her, “Derek…”
“Morgan. I know. I’m Sheri, but everybody calls me Sam. Pen’s told me all about you. Pen and I met when our dogs tried to mate, which is a little confusing since they are both boys, but as long as they are happy. Pen told me that Clo is your dog, but I’m beginning to think it is hers since she has him so often,” Sam pushed some of her bushy hair out of her face. “It is so nice to finally met Clooney’s Daddy, cause he’s got such an awesome Momma.”
Morgan wasn’t sure how to respond. The woman talked fasted than an excited Reid and it had taken him much longer than it should have to figure out who the hell Pen was. It was rare to hear her called Penelope, and rarer still to hear a nickname as most received the “glare of death” when they tried. Before he could respond, however, Clooney reappeared and started rummaging through Sam’s bag.
“Clooney,” Morgan’s voice was harsh as he pulled the dog’s head from the bag. “You know better.”
Sam laughed, “He’s just looking for water.” She proceeded to pull an expensive dog bottle water dispenser from the bag and let Clooney drink. “Hope you don’t mind, but Pen lets Clo and Samson share.”
Morgan nodded, “That’s fine.”
Not that Sam heard or cared. She had turned back to Clooney and was playing with him, “So where’s Momma, Clo? Huh? Where’s Momma?”
Clooney cocked his head at Morgan as if to say, "you answer her; I can’t talk."
Realizing that Momma must be Garcia, Morgan sighed, “She’s got the flu. I just needed to run to the store to pick up a few things, but I thought Clooney could use a good run.”
Sam smiled, “Judging by the thunderclouds on your face, you needed one as well. You and Pen have a fight?”
“No,” Morgan shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
For the first time since meeting this woman, Sam suddenly looked very serious and much older, “That’s good. Pen is a good woman and very much devoted to you. You may not realize it yet, but that woman would do anything for you. She’d move mountains for you. She’d defend you to the death and protect you… Even if it was just from yourself.”
Morgan stared at her. She was right. “I do know that.”
“Then tell her that and tell her the truth,” Sam went back to watching the dogs play.
Clooney really seemed to enjoy playing with Samson, which Morgan decided was a good thing. He asked Sam if she would watch Clooney while he ran to the CVS on the corner.
Sam had agreed and Morgan was back before Clooney even noticed his absence. Sam was in the same place reading a law text. The dogs played a few feet away. Thanking Sam, Morgan called Clooney, who came instantly.
Morgan had to laugh at the confused look on the dog’s face, “Ready to go see Momma, Clooney?”
He obliviously was since he started towards the building. The duo quickly made their way back to Garcia’s apartment. When Morgan opened the door, he was shocked to find Garcia sitting on the couch, crying into the phone, “Momma, what are you doing out of bed?”
“Derek,” Garcia squeaked tearfully as she dropped the phone and ran into his arms. “I thought you left and I couldn’t find you! I thought you hated me and didn’t want to talk to me.”
Morgan shook his head and took her chin in his hand as he gently kissed her, “Don’t be ridiculous, Momma, I’ll always want to talk to my goddess. But, I want her well. You’re going to crawl back in bed and I’m going to get a shower and then get you something light to eat, okay?”
“Okay,” Garcia’s smile returned. Sighing slightly, she shook her head, "When exactly did I become such a weepy, emotional schoolgirl?"
"The moment you fell under my charms," Morgan winked, playfully.
"Sure," Garcia elongated the word seriously as her eyes rolled. “Oh, and you keep kissing me; you really are going to get sick.”
Giving her a gentle smack to the rear as she headed into the bedroom, “Don’t worry I got a nurse’s uniform while I was out, so you can take care of me properly.”
Morgan heard a snort from Garcia’s direction and giggling from the phone on the couch. He recognized the laughter as belonging to JJ and Reid, but really didn’t care as he dropped the phone back into its cradle. He had already come to decisions after talking to Sam.
A few hours later; after a long shower for Morgan, a light supper of soup, and long talk that opened old wounds, spilled many tears, and brought them much closer; found Morgan and Garcia curled in bed watching an awful reality show. Garcia was sitting with her back against Morgan’s chest. Their hands were intertwined and Morgan was enjoying the sight of their contrasting colors blending together with her magenta nail polish occasionally adding a shot of color.
“Sugar,” Garcia’s quiet voice was a question.
“Yeah, Momma,” Morgan murmured against her hair.
Garcia wrapped their arms tighter about her, as if she was still afraid he’d leave, “Why?”
Morgan understood that she meant why did he tell her everything and declare his feelings now. He had to laugh a little, “Cause I met Sam in the park.”
“What,” Garcia turned to look at him.
“She called me Clooney’s Daddy and you his Momma and I realized I kinda liked that. And she said some other things. I don’t know I guess she got me thinking and I just wanted you to know everything.”
“Oh,” Garcia turned back and resettled in his arms.
“Penelope,” Morgan gathered her closer, “If I know what love is, it is because of you.”