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07 August 2008 @ 04:33 pm
Fic: Shattered Glass, Tempered Steel (Criminal Minds, JJ/Garcia) Part 2  

Title:  Shattered Glass, Tempered Steel
Author: DiNovia
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: JJ/Garcia (established relationship)
Rating:  R
Words:  11,882
Archival:  P&P and Kimly, of course.  Everyone else, please ask.
Spoilers:  none
Summary:  A couple of rural Nebraska teens make a gruesome discovery while seeking out a quiet spot to celebrate their high school graduation with liquor lifted from their parents' cabinets.  When the local sheriff and the state troopers unearth the sixth body, they call in the BAU, who make a gruesome discovery of their own.
Content Disclaimer:  Descriptions of a violent rape, of decomposition, of infanticide, and of consensual sex between consenting adult females. 
Source Disclaimer:  I do not own Criminal Minds or the characters from that show.  I seek no profit from this story. 
A/N:  For Tiff, who would not let me forget that this story was unfinished and should not be left so...  She also made the story banner, so Yay Tiff!  I love you!


Penelope Garcia trudged up the last few steps to her floor, feeling both keyed up and ground down to a pulp.  She'd waited for almost forty minutes before leaving the office, needing the time to collect herself, to feel capable again.  Strong and unflappable.  Well, mostly.  Plus, she and JJ had long ago devised what they called their "exit strategy": every morning they flipped a coin to see who would leave first at the end of the workday.  They never left together unless they were heading to their favorite bar to de-stress with the rest of their team.  Just another way to keep their friends from finding out the truth of their relationship.  Heads, JJ left first; tails, she did.

At the door, Penelope hesitated, laying her palm flat against the whitewashed wood, imagining what she would find on the other side.  It was late.  JJ could be asleep already, exhausted by the case and the traveling, or she could be sitting in the center of the little couch in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the television as she waited for Penelope to come home.  Of all the scenarios she imagined, though, one never crossed her mind: JJ not being there.  Penelope knew right down to her purple-painted toenails that JJ was on the other side of the door.  For better or for worse.

Her mouth twisting into a smirk at her play on words, Penelope slid her key into the lock and pushed the door open, her deep, steadying breath turning into a gasp of surprise.  Candles flickered on every surface, on the tiny coffee table, on top of the TV, along the kitchen counters, on the bookshelves...  White and pink candles in all sizes, bathing the entire apartment in shades of rose and amber, pools of light dancing on the walls, on the ceilings. 

JJ stood in the center of the living room, her blue eyes large and uncertain.  She was freshly showered and her skin glowed in the golden light.  The tips of her flaxen hair were still damp, dark like honey, and she just stood there, trembling, chewing her bottom lip nervously.  She wore only an oversized white blouse--one of Penelope's--with the top three buttons undone, allowing the older woman a glimpse of the tantalizing auric skin beneath.

Penelope Garcia absently closed and locked the apartment door, never taking her eyes from the alluring sight before her.  She lowered her pink Prada knock-off bag slowly to the floor and kicked off the matching pumps, not caring where they landed.  She closed the distance between herself and her angelic lover quickly, placing a single finger over the petal pink lips that had opened, preparing to speak.  She cupped the sweet curve of JJ's cheek, gasping softly as she did so, her eyes fluttering closed.  When they opened, they were dark violet, like bruised plums, and feral with need.

Her hands suddenly shaky with desire, Penelope unbuttoned the rest of the shirt's buttons, baring JJ to a hungry gaze that seemed to burn the younger agent as it raked down her body.  Inky dark eyes drank deeply of the vision that was Jennifer Jareau, with her dusky nipples tightening under the erotic scrutiny of her lover, with the too-large shirt hanging invitingly from her shoulders and waves of gooseflesh rolling over her creamy opaline skin.

When her eyes had drunk their fill, Penelope slowly removed the sexy, square black glasses she wore and placed them carefully on the end table next to her couch, her movements exaggerated and precise.  Then she reached for and unfastened the thin black belt around her waist, carelessly dropping it to the floor.  She followed the belt with her silk skirt, unzipping the raspberry-colored fabric and letting it fall with a whisper; then followed the skirt with her slip, pushing the taupe satin over her hips.  Next, she pulled the sleeveless white turtleneck she wore over her head, her pink-streaked blonde hair now a wild mane around her face.  She dropped the sweater to the floor with the rest of her clothing and reached for the hooks that held her bra together.  As she removed the garment, Jennifer's eyes feasted on the sight before her and she groaned quietly.  Penelope Garcia was completely nude save for a pair of lacy pink panties, a raspberry-colored garter, and a pair of thigh-highs the color of a virgin's blush.

Penelope reached for Jennifer's hand and took it in her own, the shirt's cuff a barrier between them.  The tech analyst turned and pulled her younger lover into the bedroom.  JJ had lit candles in here as well and the flickering buttery light cast long shadows on the purple walls.  Penelope turned toward JJ and her eyes hardened, glittering like shards of coal licked by fire.  She gripped the lapels of the crisp white shirt JJ wore and drew the younger woman toward her, breathing deeply, catching the light citrus scent of JJ's soap and the spicy tang of her arousal.  Then she kissed her.

First, the light press of full lips against the corner of Jennifer's mouth, there then gone again.  Then a sexy nip at her bottom lip, and another, her teeth gentle but riveted, holding then finally releasing.  Over and over Penelope tasted her lover's lips, maddeningly brief touches that drove JJ mad with desire until she finally groaned in frustration and raised her hands to hold Penelope's head still, plundering her intoxicating mouth, driving their kiss deeper, a hunger she could not satiate.  Tongues entwined, the dance begun, and her body a live wire arcing with electricity, JJ hardly noticed when her world changed from vertical to horizontal.  She did notice, however, when Penelope's mouth left hers to trail scalding kisses down the long line of her neck, over her collarbone, and down, enveloping one aching nipple with a wet heat that rivaled the molten honey pooling between her legs. 

In her life and work, Penelope Garcia communicated with the world via staccato keystrokes peppered against plastic buttons, delving the world of bytes, bits, ones and zeros for the ghosts and whispers that would reveal the habits, details, and movements of the perpetrators of horrible, unspeakable crimes.  In their bed, Penelope's language of choice was entirely different.  With the sweet dance of tongue and lips, with the gentle touch of sensitive fingertips, with soft words and steadfast love, she made Jennifer Jareau's body, heart, and soul sing out.  "God, Pen," she groaned, writhing under her lover's elegant torture. 

JJ was still semi-clad in the oversized shirt and the cotton sleeves felt cool and crisp against Penelope's back as she lifted herself over the long-haired beauty and JJ wrapped her arms around her neck.  When the younger woman wrapped her legs around her hips, Penelope Garcia pulled her mouth from its delicious task and gasped, "Goddess in Heaven!"  She braced herself with one hand even as the other found its way between their heated bodies, seeking the source of JJ's need and--finding it--thrusting her long, talented fingers into its silky depths.

JJ hissed with pleasure.  "Yes!" she cried, gazing deeply into eyes as dark as wine.  "Penelope, yes!"  Her hips rose to meet her lover's insistent pace thrust for thrust and she felt the exact moment, deep inside, when desire coalesced into flame and ignited the charge that would inevitably lead to her volatile climax.  The tech-analyst felt it, too, and she moaned, thrusting harder and deeper until JJ began to keen, a rising crescendo of pleasure and need...until they both ran out of time and breath and obliteration took them in explosive blossoms of a fiery cacophony.

Long, thundering heartbeats later--after she'd collapsed next to JJ, her right arm weak with the strain of bracing herself above the beautiful blonde--Penelope Garcia opened her eyes.  As close as she was and now no longer blinded by lust and need, she could clearly see the tiny, scabbed cuts that peppered the left side of JJ's face, the longer laceration above her left eye.  "Oh!" she breathed, touching the tiny spots with trembling fingers, feeling the roughened edges of broken skin beneath her fingertips.  "Oh, my sweet girl..."

JJ, drugged with lassitude and happy completion, forced her eyes to open, concerned by the tone of her lover's voice.  "Pen?" she asked, brows quirking in confusion until she remembered the stinging pain of shattered glass slicing past her in the SUV and the damage it had left in its wake.  It was nothing, of course.  Superficial and well on its way to healing.  To everyone but her lover, of course, who had spent the better part of an hour almost a week ago worrying that she'd been the one shot by the Petits.

"Penelope, look at me," she ordered.  When those frightened, violet eyes found hers, she said, "I'm fine.  I promise.  They don't even hurt."  Penelope looked profoundly unconvinced.  JJ sighed.  "Look at them, honey.  They won't scar; they're that superficial.  This is nothing like the dogs, okay?" 

Penelope shut her eyes and shuddered with revulsion at the thought of JJ walking into that hellish place in Georgia last year, three feral dogs snarling at her, jaws dripping gore and saliva.  They'd attacked and JJ'd gone down shooting, somehow managing to kill them all before they could rip out her throat.  She still had scars--pale, ragged indentations, like tiny craters--on her left tricep and bicep.  "Nothing like the dogs," she repeated dully, forcing the morbid thought away with a powerful mental shove.

"I'm so sorry, Penelope," continued JJ, eyes welling with regretful tears.  "I'm so sorry you had to hear that; that you thought it was me.  But I talked to Emily tonight.  Honey, I can't promise you that I won't get hurt but I can promise you that if I can't tell you what happened, Emily will.  She--"

The former hacker sat up abruptly, looking at her lover with wide eyes.  "Wait--Emily?  You told Emily about us?"

JJ had the foresight to look sheepish before she turned to gaze at one of the flickering candles.  "They apparently already knew," she mumbled, caught between a bubbly feeling of relief and a sinking feeling of dread; her pale blue eyes were anxious but a shimmering smile lit them and curved her lips sweetly.

"They?" squeaked Penelope.  "Jennifer Jareau, what are you talking about?  Exactly who 'already knew'?"

"According to Emily, everyone but Strauss."  JJ bit her lip nervously and added, "She says we should be discreet around her."

"Be discreet around her?" spluttered the tech analyst, now completely exasperated.  What had they been doing all this time--with the hushed conversations and the 'exit strategy' and all their other little tactics of discretion?  Had that just called attention to themselves?  Had they--unwittingly, of course--been putting on a little show for the team?  "I thought we were being discreet around them!"

"Believe me, so did I," agreed the younger blonde ruefully, sitting up finally, and nestling closer to her lover.  She rested her head on Penelope's shoulder and sighed.

"What do we do now?"  Penelope put her arm around JJ and absently stroked her hair, her brows knitted in intense thought as the implications of everyone knowing swirled furiously in her brain.

"Nothing?" asked the press liaison simply.  When Penelope goggled at her as if she was crazy, she said, "Think about it, honey--the only thing that's changed is now we know that they know.  We've been discreet enough that Hotch hasn't had to take either of us aside and warn us about the consequences of our relationship, which means we must be doing everything right.  Changing what we're doing could jeopardize that.  And we don't want that suspicious bureaucrat Strauss to have even a hint of a whisper of something wrong."

"I guess you're right," said Penelope Garcia, sighing dramatically.  "But..."


The older woman turned a saucy gaze toward JJ.  "But when am I ever going to get to wear that t-shirt I made on CafePress?"

JJ laughed.  "And what t-shirt is that?"

"The one that says 'Sorry, Reid.  She's mine.'"

The young press liaison sat up and gaped at Penelope.  "Penelope Garcia, you do not have a t-shirt that says that," she declared with a forced, almost desperate certainty.  "You do not."

"Whatever you say, Gorgeous Girl," agreed the tech analyst, grinning like the Cheshire cat.  There was a moment of charged silence as Penelope continued to grin while JJ warily rearranged herself in her arms.  When she finally felt comfortably settled and had relaxed again, absently nuzzling the soft skin over Penelope's pulse point, the older woman added, "But you should probably stay out of the third drawer of my dresser--just to be safe."

JJ could only groan in helpless protest.


Three weeks later, Jennifer Jareau stood alone in the conference room of the BAU, hip canted to one side unconsciously, intent on the contents of the manila folder in her hands.  She was so engrossed in what she was reading, she didn't hear Penelope Garcia enter the room; didn't, in fact, even realize she had company until she felt a gentle nudge against her side.

"Hey, Sweet Girl," said Garcia softly, catching the press liaison's eye.  "You left without your coffee this morning."  She glanced nervously at the door to make sure no one was within earshot before offering the blonde a to-go cup from her favorite coffee shop.  "I stopped and got your favorite."

JJ took the cup eagerly, grateful for the sweet, hot jolt of caffeine.  She'd been so distracted by the urgent phone call from her contact in Violent Crimes this morning that she'd completely forgotten she'd only gotten about four hours of sleep--due entirely to a certain Carol Burnett marathon that her lover had recorded.  She smiled involuntarily, remembering lying on the couch with Pen, munching on take-out sushi and glass noodles, and laughing so hard at Carol as Scarlet O'Hara that she actually snorted root beer up her nose. 

"Thanks," she said after another welcome sip.  Her bright smile and twinkling eyes belied her exhaustion and Garcia grinned back, completely enchanted.

The tech analyst took a step toward the press liaison, her gaze averted, her index finger drawing random patterns on the conference room table.  She chewed her lip flirtatiously and whispered, "I want to kiss you so hard right now."

JJ froze, her pale blue eyes widening with shock.  She looked toward the bullpen worriedly, hoping that it was still empty.  It was only 7:30am so--damn!  Reid was already at his desk, looking pensively up at the conference room door.  And if he was already there, then Morgan and Emily couldn't be too far behind.  "Pen!" she whispered back, her tone scandalized and warning at the same time.

"Oh, I know we can't," said Garcia reasonably, trying to reassure her lover.  "I just want to--really badly."

"You need to stay as far away from me as possible," scolded the younger blonde.  "Sit over there," she ordered, pointing to a chair opposite hers.  "And don't distract me."

Penelope smirked but did as she was told.  "New case?" she asked innocently as Spencer Reid made his way into the room and to the table, taking his usual seat.  He turned his attention to JJ when he heard Garcia's question.

"No," said JJ slowly, once again immersed in the small stack of files.  "It's an update on the Petit case--"

"Turns out the Petits honeymooned in New Jersey," said Rossi, entering the room suddenly and with the same power and single-minded purpose as a bullet.  "That's why there were no New Jersey plates.  Charles Petit remembered the kindness they'd been shown in 1955 by not targeting the state's residents in his campaign for revenge."

"Please wait for everyone to arrive," admonished Hotch, following Rossi into the room.  Morgan and Prentiss were already hurrying from the bullpen so they didn't have to wait long.  Once the entire team was seated, Hotch gave a tiny nod to JJ, who began passing out folders.

"Rossi's right," she agreed.  "According to multiple interviews with Ollie Petit, her husband chose not to target cars bearing Nebraska or New Jersey plates; Nebraska because he didn't want to draw attention to himself and New Jersey because of their 1955 honeymoon at Ocean Isle boardwalk."

"She knew about the murders the whole time?" asked Garcia, eyes round behind her glasses.  

JJ nodded.  "And she couldn't notify anyone.  There was no phone at the Petit farm, they never had visitors, and she rarely went to town.  She was completely dependent on her husband.  When he died in 1992, she became completely dependent on Richard Petit.  Josie Petit wasn't as reliable due to her drinking problem."  She traded gazes with the rest of the team.  "It gets worse.  Much of the thread Ollie used in her loom was comprised of human hair carded and spun on either a wool or cotton base."

Garcia covered her mouth with her hand in shock while Emily Prentiss grimaced in disgust.

"That would explain the shaved heads on some of the female bodies that were still intact," noted Reid absently.

Emily flipped through the pages of her folder, consternation coloring her features.  "Did they ever figure out why some of the victims--including Evelyn Dearborn--were buried face down?"

"Those were victims killed by Josie Petit," explained JJ.  "She says she couldn't bear to look into their eyes as she was burying them.  The guilt was too much for her."

"Which is why she was drowning it in alcohol," surmised Morgan.  "How's she doing?"

"Surprisingly cooperative, considering.  She won't walk again, though.  One of the bullets she took during the firefight severed her spine between the second and third lumbar vertebrae.  She also lost a kidney."

There was a brief silence as that stark report settled in for the team.  No one was particularly interested in knowing whose bullet it had been.

"What about the missing seven graves?" asked Hotch, eager to move the topic along.  He didn't want the team to linger here and he especially didn't want two of the best agents he had ever worked with second-guessing their actions that day.  Whatever else Josie Petit was, she was also a serial killer who had been responsible for the deaths of 38 of the 211 Petit Family victims.

JJ flipped through her copy of the report.  "Apparently the Petit family wasn't always successful in their--what did you call it, Rossi?  Campaign for revenge?"  She indicated the projection screen on the wall and pressed a button on her remote.  "Five of the seven extra plates were reported as carjackings or cars stolen during the commission of felony assault, two in South Dakota, one each in Iowa, Colorado, and Wyoming.  Deanya Lewis of Athens, GA, who was abducted from a parking lot of a Motel 6 in Casper, Wyoming, actually came closest to breaking the case.  Her police report states that she was assaulted and kidnapped by a pair of twin brothers who indicated they were taking her to Nebraska where she would be 'shaved of that pretty red hair' then 'butchered like a hog'.  She escaped by throwing herself from the car into traffic on Interstate 25 near Douglas, Wyoming.  She was hit by two cars, that then stopped to assist, and the Petit boys fled the scene."

"Why didn't the Wyoming police follow up on her story?" asked Reid, the expression on his face mirroring the disbelief shimmering around the table.

"Agent Tinker of Violent Crimes contacted the interviewing officer in Douglas.  Officer Leonard remembered the case--from March 1994--and said he didn't follow up because he simply didn't believe Deanya's story.  He thought she'd been partying with some locals, got into trouble when she wouldn't 'put out', and that they decided to steal her car in retaliation.  He believed the fall into traffic was an accident even though both drivers of the cars that struck her claimed otherwise."

"Damned lazy," cursed Rossi shaking his head.  "He didn't want the extra paperwork."

Looking nervously at the stewing senior agent, Garcia asked, "So five victims escaped...  And the other two plates?"

JJ shrugged.  "As far as anyone can tell, they belonged to two cars that were simply stolen.  The owners did not report any personal contact with the thieves at or around the time of the thefts.  The theory is that at the time that these two cars were stolen, the Petits needed the money more than they needed the kill.  That's how they lived all these years: they supplemented their meager farm income with the proceeds from the sale of their victims' cars.  Charles Petit kept a ledger of the sales.  After his father's death, Richard Petit continued to use the ledger until June 4th, 1995.  That's the last entry. "

"Man!" blurted Morgan, slamming his copy of the report shut.  "The Petits had some racket going!  Trolling for tourists traveling alone, selling their cars and whatever else they had of value, using their hair in Ollie's tapestries...  Everything about this case says they should have been caught years ago but they used the system, made it work for them.  They counted on the lack of communication between different law enforcement agencies, different states.  Hell, not even ViCAP would have flagged the carjackings!  Lemme guess--different MOs, different descriptions, four different states...  No one in their right mind would have connected the crimes.  And 211 people lost their lives to one family!"

"Two-hundred and twelve," corrected JJ softly, her brows creasing with sadness and distaste.  "Ollie Petit told her interviewers that she became pregnant from the rapes.  Charles Petit took the baby when it was born and they never spoke of it again.  She didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl."  She cleared her throat quietly and looked away from Penelope's questing eyes.  "When the CSUs exhumed the family burial plot, they found a Tupperware container with the mummified remains of a newborn inside--a boy.  He had been strangled."

Garcia made a muffled sound of pain, Emily turned vaguely green, and the men in the room didn't know where to look so they looked at the nowheres in the room: the nowhere near their left shoe, the nowhere beside the whiteboard, the nowhere on the back of their hand.

"Two-hundred and thirteen," said Garcia finally, struggling against her anguish to speak.  "Ollie Petit may have lived, but she was still a victim--of the rapes, yeah, but of her own family, too."  No one disagreed with her.

"What about Ricky and Joey?" asked Prentiss finally.  "Has there been any sign of them?"

JJ shook her head.  "None at all.  Violent Crimes suspects they've gone underground for the time being."

"They'll be back," declared Rossi, his certainty as immovable as stone.  "Killing is what they know, all they know.  They were spoon fed it as babies.  They won't stay away long."

"Josie Petit is under 24 hour surveillance, including mail and telephone.  They're hoping the boys will try to contact her--"

"Waste of time," interrupted the older agent, shaking his head again.  "They've cut their mother loose; she was the weak link.  All the drinking, the sleeping around--she was bound to slip up somewhere along the line, give them all up.  And then they would have killed her.  No.  Tell your friend in VC they should monitor mail to Ollie Petit.  When the boys start up again, they will send her the souvenirs.  She's their matriarch, the woman for whom all this madness was begun.  They've probably elevated her to icon status, someone who intervenes with the world on their behalf.  They'll try to please her by showing that they've continued the pattern of revenge, even if they've had to make changes.  Ollie will be their focus, not Josie.  Tell them that."

JJ nodded.  "I'll call him when we're done here," she said, making notes on a pad to her right.  When she'd dotted her last "i", she looked up.  "We don't have any priority cases on the docket right now," she began, changing the input to the large monitor on the wall, "but I do have several cold cases--"

Aaron Hotchner, largely quiet through the horrific recounting of the Petit Family's crimes, sat forward, frowning.  "Not today, JJ," he said, looking off into the middle distance, lost in this thoughts.  Several people thought they might have an idea where his mind had gone.  "I want all of you to take the rest of the day off.  If something urgent comes up, you'll be called in, but for now, go.  Find something to do out there," he made a gesture that vaguely encompassed the windows of the bullpen, "that will lessen the impact of this case for you.  Whatever that is."  When the team just sat there, blinking at him with owlish eyes, Rossi stepped in.

"Are you deaf?  Go!"  He made a shooing motion with his hands, trying to dislodge them from their seats and into freedom like recalcitrant chicks huddled under a hen's wing.  "I know at least two of you have somewhere else you'd rather be.  The rest of you should also find something outside this building on which to lavish that singular focus that makes you such workaholic agents!  Go!"

The team--as one--stumbled up from their seats and made their clumsy way out of the conference room.  JJ, scooping up her files and gathering them to her chest, was the last out.  She backed through the doorway with an ersatz smile plastered to her face, the beginnings of a blush coloring her cheeks.  "Uh...thanks, Hotch."  She glanced at the other SSA fleetingly.  "Rossi." 

Rossi waggled his fingers at her in a sarcastic wave and she turned and fled.

After a moment, Hotch said, "You do realize that you terrify them on some level."

Rossi grinned.  "Eh, it keeps them alert."


The more junior agents of the BAU team only got as far as the bullpen under the artificial momentum provided by David Rossi.  They milled around at a loss, unsure of what to do next.  Even those with the longest tenure could only count on one finger the times Aaron Hotchner had sent them home for the day.  It was too good to be true.

JJ, the last to arrive, glanced shyly at Penelope then quickly averted her eyes, her fading blush flaring again.  She dumped her files on the first empty surface she came upon and chuckled nervously.

Emily homed in on the younger woman's skittishness like a heat-seeking missile and a mischievous smile curved the corners of her mouth.  "So two of us seem to be set for the day," she drawled, giving both JJ and Garcia a mock disapproving once-over.  "Morgan?  Reid?  Any ideas on what we can do to pass the time?"

Penelope Garcia's pink streaked hair, done up like a fireworks display on the top of her head, bounced and quivered as she looked from Emily to Morgan to Reid then back again.  "What are you talking about?" she squeaked, her own blush creeping steadily toward her cheeks.  She dared not look at JJ.

Morgan tsked at her.  "Baby Girl, you tellin' me you have a free day and you don't know what to do with it?  I'm surprised at you!"  He nudged Reid.  "If it were you, Reid, what would you do?" he asked, winking.

Picking up on Morgan's signal, Reid made a show of considering his options.  "If it were me," he said slowly, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger in the Universal Indication of Deep Thought and looking up toward the ceiling.  "If it were me..."  He suddenly dropped the act and grinned at Garcia.  "Well, by now I'd at least be in the elevator," he teased.  Emily and Morgan laughed, making Garcia even more flustered.  JJ, however, felt her entire body narrow in focus.  Exasperated, she grabbed her purse and Penelope's bag in one hand and held out the other to a very round-eyed tech analyst.


"No buts," she said sternly, her pale blue eyes flashing.  "We're going home right now.  I won't be kept one moment longer from what I really want to be doing."  Garcia timidly put her hand in JJ's and the young blonde whisked her out of the bullpen, leaving three gaping FBI agents in their wake.  The tech analyst would have laughed at the looks on their faces if she wasn't so shocked herself.

Once in the elevator, with the doors shut behind them, JJ gently disengaged her hand from Penelope's, grinning like the cat who'd eaten the canary.  "That should keep them quiet for a while," she laughed.

Garcia blinked twice, then felt her own smile take hold.  "Jennifer Jareau, you are evil!  Their heads have probably exploded all over the bullpen!"

"Good.  That will teach them not to tease you."  She stared straight ahead, her chin tilted at a regal angle.

Penelope sidled up to her lover and leaned into her side.  "Mmmmm," she purred.  "I like you all butch and protective."

JJ was unmoved.  "Oh?"

"Mmm-hmm," she replied, tracing abstract patterns on JJ's arm.  "So...what is it that you really want to be doing at home, JJ?" she asked sweetly, her violet eyes darkening in anticipation of the answer.

The younger blonde turned a predatory smile toward her lover and leaned in close, her voice low and feral.  "I want a long, luxurious, uninterrupted and decadent..."  The elevator stopped and the doors opened.  "...nap!" finished JJ, nose to nose with her swooning lover.  She kissed Penelope lightly on the tip of her nose and then abandoned her, heading for her car.  Halfway there, her cell phone rang.  "Jareau," she answered.

"You are in so much trouble," growled Penelope Garcia on the other end.

JJ just laughed.



penny_grrl on August 7th, 2008 10:38 pm (UTC)
This is fantastic, and I've never even seen an episode. There are plans to watch a dvd marathon in the works though. I rec'd this to a friend who was complaining about the lack of Garcia femslash. And I knew it had to be good even before reading because it was an Erin original!
seftiri: CM Goddess of Nerdsseftiri on August 7th, 2008 10:58 pm (UTC)
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you like it after you see the episodes, too. I hope your friend likes it too! I wrote another JJ/Garcia fic a while back. I think it's up at P&P, if she's looking for more.

Anyway, thanks for the great feedback! There will be more from me (not in this fandom) over the next few months, too.
penny_grrl on August 7th, 2008 11:10 pm (UTC)
I actually already read and rec'd the other after noticing it on P&P a few weeks ago.

I'm sure my fandoms aren't going to be ones you're into but if you maybe wanted to check out my writing LJ, I would be grateful for your feedback. No pressure though.

Shut up and smile: Comics // Birds of Prey // Manhuntermorningafter2 on August 7th, 2008 11:16 pm (UTC)
Well, we're about to find out whether or not my brain will explode when I read fic from a fandom where no one (canonically) wears spandex or tights on a regular basis. ;)

*goes back to read*
seftiri: Garcia Beautyseftiri on August 8th, 2008 04:36 am (UTC)
::hopes that it met with your approval:: :)
Shut up and smile: Comics // Batverse // Spoilermorningafter2 on August 8th, 2008 04:42 am (UTC)
Pfft, my approval of your writing is not something you ever need to worry about.

Though I must confess, I haven't finished it yet. I got distracted by making dinner and a conference call with a teacher, and playing Wii Fit, and reading Batgirl comics other various things.

I'm halfway through, though! I'll absolutely leave you a comment with thoughts tomorrow, I promise!
seftiri: Billie Smilesseftiri on August 8th, 2008 04:44 am (UTC)
Take your time! Truly! And also leave me thoughts about the Wii Fit? Tiff and I want one badly. Do you think it would be safe to use on the second floor of an apartment?
Shut up and smile: Comics // Runaways // Kissmorningafter2 on August 8th, 2008 04:57 am (UTC)
Well, I can offer thoughts on Wii Fit right now. I, being a person who loves being active and doing things but hates having to actually go places (namely anywhere outside of home) to do them, think it's a godsend. It's fun, it's got some really interesting (and adorable!) games, and it's convenient.

As for being on the second floor of an apartment, I wouldn't foresee that being much of a problem, except maybe for running in place, which might disturb the downstairs neighbors some. But everything else I've encountered is harmless.

Good luck getting one, though. We spent three weeks trying before we managed to storm Toys R Us last Sunday and get one.
seftiri: Blue Ajah Aniseftiri on August 8th, 2008 04:59 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'll let Tiff know.

I was worried about the walking/running too.
Shut up and smile: Comics // Birds of Prey // Misfit FTWmorningafter2 on August 8th, 2008 05:07 am (UTC)
The running isn't really something one has to focus on though. I mean, if you wanted to, that's one thing, but it's not crucial and can be skipped over.

I don't do it much because running is not always the best thing in the world for my knees, and it doesn't seem to have done me any harm. I just compensate with the other aerobic exercises.
Shut up and smile: Misc // Argumentmorningafter2 on August 9th, 2008 05:30 am (UTC)
My head is intact, so I guess comic books haven't totally taken over my brain after all.

I loved this! I mean, I always love your writing (and I love it even more when you write for fandoms I actually know something about *g*), and this was just so wonderful.
seftiri: CM Goddess of Nerdsseftiri on August 9th, 2008 06:04 am (UTC)
I'm so glad you liked it! I'll be trying my hand at Em/JJ over the next few months so keep a look out for that. Also for any of 10 other writing projects I'll be working on. Tiff is a more stringent taskmistress than nursing school... LOL
Shut up and smile: TV // Criminal Minds // Em&JJmorningafter2 on August 9th, 2008 06:10 am (UTC)
Well, do thank her for me. She's ensuring that I have things to read other than vampire novels and comic books. *g*

And I can't wait for your try at Em/JJ! I'm up for more or less anything involving Emily Prentiss (within reason, of course).
seftiri: Em/JJ Handsseftiri on August 9th, 2008 06:13 am (UTC)
Don't worry. It will be another case-driven story, a first time Em/JJ, and a happy ending all in one. Even for the victim... ;)

Shut up and smile: TV // Firefly // A man named Jaynemorningafter2 on August 9th, 2008 06:17 am (UTC)
Even for the victim? Oh, you leave me in such suspense! I must go drown my curiosity in comic books now! /drama
Shut up and smile: Comics // YJ // Quartersmorningafter2 on August 9th, 2008 11:13 pm (UTC)
Oh! I meant to comment on this when I first (finally) got around to commenting on the fic, but purple walls FTW!

My bedroom walls are purple, and it's a little out there (but then, everything in my room is a little out there), but I love them. <3
seftiri: Rose Tyler Cheekyseftiri on August 10th, 2008 02:40 am (UTC)
IIRC, the purple walls are actually canon. I think I got that from the ep 'Penelope'. :D But I do agree--purple walls rock. So do lime green ones. LOL
Shut up and smile: People // Zooey Deschanelmorningafter2 on August 10th, 2008 02:51 am (UTC)
Purple walls in canon? Dude. Awesome. I never got to that ep (I left off somewhere around the beginning of the third season) because I have zero staying power when it comes to TV shows. I'm far too forgetful and easily distracted. :P

And lime green walls do rock... I'm almost tempted to try and convince my mom to let me paint one wall lime green, but it would be way more effort than I'm willing to put in.