#penelope garcia imagines
Tequila Challenge
Summary: Your first date with Garcia is just as quirky and unforgettable as Garcia herself. As the night goes on, she enrols you in the titular tequila challenge.
A/N: I’d love to go on this date but, alas, I can only write about it. I also could not drink 4 tequila shots! Let me know what you think!
A surprisingly sultry silk eye mask obscured your vision entirely, Garcia’s gentle yet excitable hands the only thing standing between you and falling on your face. “Isn’t this a bit much?” You asked, fumbling over a step she hadn’t warned you of.
“It’s a date,” she told you brightly, “and mystery just makes it sexier.” You grumbled in reply, but couldn’t help but internally agree with her flawless logic. “Cmon, we’re nearly there!” Her voice had taken on that sing song quality that warned of her increasing excitement.
Her hands smoothed over your arms and you felt her move to stand behind you. The ghost of her breath washed over the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps tingling over your figure, as she whispered; “you ready?”
A hum of agreement left you, the shiver she sent down your spine stealing your words.
Squeezing your arm in response, she leaned closer once more. “Was that supposed to be a yes?” She all but purred.
This time you managed a slightly more eloquent “uh-huh.” It seemed good enough for Garcia, as she swiftly pulled the blindfold from your eyes.
Blinking against the sudden brightness, you slowly took in your surroundings. “We’re… at a ball pit?”
Wagging a sassy finger at you, she corrected; “not just any ball pit - a ball pit with a fully stocked bar in the middle.” Hand on your shoulder, she directed your attention to the central bar with a flourish of her hand.
The bar was standard, except for the sea of colourful, plastic balls surrounding it. Disco lights were shining wildly from ceiling mounted electronics and, as the pair of you neared the entrance to the ball pit, you could feel the thumping bass of R&B resonating through the floor.
Standing at the edge of the ball pit, ready to jump in and wade eagerly towards the bar, you looked to Garcia beside you. The pair of you shared a bright beaming smile, joined hands, and dove in.
———————————————————————
The ball pit was more fun than you would have ever imagined, the alcohol that was served alongside it was like a special bonus that simply made everything that much more colourful.
Wading through the sea of plastic balls, you flagged down a bartender but, in your increasing inebriation, accidentally sent a red ball flying several feet in the air. Watching the ball arc gracefully in the air, a pink disco light reflecting dizzily from it, you didn’t notice Garcia sidle up beside you. “I think it’s time,” she murmured to you, arm sneaking around your waist as she looked up at you.
“For what?” You asked huskily, craning your neck in an attempt to meet her lips half way.
Bright eyes darting down to your lips, she gave the most victorious little smirk she could muster, before pushing you towards the barman. “She’d like to take part in the tequila challenge, good sir!” She exclaimed, gaining the attention of several bar staff.
The barman raised his eyebrows in surprise, hand on his chest in a dramatic show of shock. “You really think you’re up for that?”
“Erm..” you stuttered, looking to Penelope beside you. Offering no form of explanation, she nodded dramatically and you looked back to the barmen with an unconvincing “yes.”
“Alright,” he resolutely told you, ducking from sight briefly before reappearing with four blue shot glasses.
Startled, eyes widening in sudden fear, you stepped closer and hurriedly asked for clarity. “Wait- wait, what is the tequila challenge?”
Already pouring the second glass, he raised a brow at you. “Two shots now,” he told you, briskly filling the other two glasses, “and two shots upon retrieval.”
“Retrieval?” You asked, blankly.
Penelope was clapping excitedly beside you as he turned to grab a glittery, golden, plastic ball from the bar. Brandishing it at you, the man more clearly explained. “Once I throw this ball, you have one minute to drink these two,” he pushed the first two full glasses at you, “collect the ball, return it, and drink these last two.”
Nodding, a little overwhelmed by the task at hand, you asked “and what if I don’t manage it in time?“
The barmen shrugged, “you lose your pride.“
Apparently deciding that the stakes weren’t quite high enough, Penelope added. “And you lose your shot at a goodnight kiss.”
Groaning, you whined in response. “Garcia, c’mon, that’s not fair!”
Wickedly, she smirked up at you. Hand upon your cheek, thumb swiping over your cheekbone, she winked. “Do it for me, hot stuff.”
Eyes closing, pulling a centring breath in, you squared your shoulders. Turning to the barman, you nodded as coolly as you could muster. “Let’s do this.“
With a smirk, the barmen pulled his arm back and tossed the golden ball several metres away. Immediately, you lost sight of the ball beneath the colourful haze. Grimacing, you turned back to the barman and, somehow, downed the first two shots without so much as a grimace.
As you rushed through the sea of plastic balls you sent them flying all around you. It was like running through glue, each step took such great effort and whilst you now could see the glittering ball that was your target, you felt as though you were no closer.
Your arm was stretched before you, your other arm wildly sweeping away the balls before you. Unfortunately, as quickly as you could push them away they fell back before you forming a barrier that seemed impossible to penetrate.
“That’s thirty seconds!” Someone shouted behind you.
Throwing caution to the wind, you dived forwards. Entire body now engulfed by the sea of balls, drowning almost in the colourful spheres, you finally caught hold of your glittering target. “I got it!” You yelled hysterically into the air, awkwardly manoeuvring yourself into an upright position once again.
Your target was now in your sight; the bar, the last two shots of tequila, and Garcia.
With a speed you wouldn’t have thought possible in this sea of colourful plastic, you raced back to the bar. As you reached the sticky wood the crowd now formed around you were beginning to excitedly count down from ten. One hand still clutching the golden prize, you swiftly finished the final two shots.
Just as the crowd reached “one!” in their exuberant countdown, you victoriously slammed the empty shot glass back on the bar.
A clamour of cheers roared around you but you had one thing on your mind. “Where’s my prize?” You slyly whispered to Penelope.
She giggled, a musical tone, before placing both palms upon your cheeks. Pulling you down, exuberantly, she locked her lips with yours.
You melted into her kiss, the increasing roar of the crowd melting into the background as you smoothed your hands over her back. She pulled back just long enough to say, “that was impressive, hot stuff.”
You laughed around her lips, “I had the right motivation.”
You weren’t sure whether it was the copious alcohol now burning through your veins making you feel light-headed and dizzy, or if it was simply kissing Garcia. At this point, pulling her closer and melting into her embrace, you didn’t really care.
Unsuitably Subtle
Summary: Reader is trying to be subtle in their flirtations with Garcia. They quickly learn that subtlety will get them nowhere.
A/N: Hope everyone had a great holiday season! Thanks so much to the anon who requested this! Let me know what you guys think. ❤️
“Gee, Garcia,” you began, the side of your mouth upturned in what you hoped was a smouldering smirk, “your hair looks so soft.” In a gesture that was probably a little over the top, you licked your lips, “I bet it’d feel nice if I ran my fingers through it.” You paired this suggestion with waggling eyebrows. In this pursuit, you had quickly learned that subtlety would get you nowhere with the woman. Although, so far, being extremely obvious had not served you much better.
She smiled, waving a dismissive hand and entirely missing the suggestive overtone of your words. “Oh, I know.” Garcia’s astounding self-confidence was something entirely attractive about her but it was beginning to get in the way of your attempts to flirt. How were you supposed to make her blush when she was fully aware of everything amazing about her? “I’ve got a super secret conditioner but,” playfully, she extended the last word into a sing-song warble, “if I shared it with ya I’d have to kill you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. The idea of Garcia, who squirmed in the wake of admittedly gruesome crime scene photos, committing a murder of her own in an effort to conceal her hair-care secrets was adorable in a wonderfully strange way. “Well” you began, fingertips trailing along her desk towards her as you slipped into the most charming tone you could muster, “I’m sure we could come to some…other arrangement.” In order to cement your flirtations as unmistakable you added an over dramatic wink.
She squinted her eyes at you. With baited breath, you waited for realisation to strike. For her playful eyes to widen, soft lips to fall open, and a hushed ‘oh’ to fall from her. Much to your excitement, realisation. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that she had once again misread your efforts. “Oh fine,” she playfully threw a fluffy, pink thing at you before wheeling back to look at her computer. “Email me the deets of your skin care routine and I’ll let you borrow my favourite coconut and lime intensive conditioner.”
Your shoulders drooped. How was she this blinkered to your clear advances? Everyone else in the office, no the entire building, seemed aware of your attraction to Garcia’s whirlwind of a personality. Your hopeless puppy dog eyes impossible to misread for everyone but the bedazzling object of your affection. You blamed Morgan. The constant, somehow platonic, flirting between them had made her immune to the real thing. On a particularly frustrating day you had shared this hypothesis with Morgan himself, much to the man’s amusement.
Throwing in the towel for today, doubting Hotch would appreciate your hiding in Garcia’s fantastical office, you said your downtrodden goodbyes and left.
The next day, refreshed and ready, you stepped up your game.
Entering Penelope’s lair, the fragrance of oranges and strawberries hitting you like a pleasant breeze, you strode purposefully to her desk. “Hey there,” you greeted, voice sultry and low as you gracefully hopped up onto the desk.
The red mini-skirt you had worn was perhaps not entirely work appropriate. It didn’t seem weather appropriate either considering the shivering you had suffered on the walk from your car to the office but that was beside the point. The only thing it needed to be appropriate for, was Garcia. The skirt itself was less an invitation for her to ogle you, although that would be most welcome, but more a prompt for her to see what you were trying to achieve. The red skirt a metaphorical flashing sign; ‘look at me! Notice me hopelessly flirting with you!’ It would say.
When you had first joined the BAU, Garcia would punctuate each of your appearances in her office with a witty and quick-fire greeting. A charming introduction to her personality that had sent you spiralling helplessly head over heels for her. Nowadays, however, your appearance to her was so routine you were as much a part of the furniture as her favourite computer monitor. “What can I can do for you, fire-cracker?”
You scrunched your nose and jerked your head to the side. With a bemused smile, you watched her fingers fly over her keyboard and asked; “Fire-cracker?”
She waved a hand towards your skirt, eyes still glued to her screen even as she smirked through her words. “You’re almost setting the place on fire in that skirt.” Luckily, she didn’t notice the rosy flush that coloured your chucks in response to her words. And then, in a sudden and surprising burst of excitement she took a sharp breath, waved her hands, and whirled her chair to face you. Through her beaming smile, she asked conspiratorially; “Are you trying to impress someone?!” You stuttered over your breath at how spot on she was with her quick-fire assessment of your behaviour; begrudgingly you wondered how much else Garcia had so slyly picked up from her colleagues.
Your stuttering clearly gave at least some of the truth away to her. Suddenly beaming, she squealed. “You are!” She wheeled closer to you, looking up at you with devilish eyes that only intensified the pink of your cheeks. “Who is it?”
You smoothed over your skirt, trying to come up with something, anything, to save your pride. This whole endeavour had been in the hopes of making her realise that you were hopelessly flirting with her, but you had hoped it would happen under circumstances not involving your intense embarrassment under her scrutinising gaze.
“Well, uh…” you stumbled over your words, not convincingly confident in the slightest.
Giggling, she winked at you. “Morgan?” She asked, with raised eyebrows. “Could put a good word in for you,” she waggled her eyebrows at you, but deflated when you shook your head adamantly. Fresh excitement overtook her a mere half a second later, “or is it our resident genius?”
I can work with that, you resolved quickly. Sliding down from your seat on her desk, you folded your arms and leaned in closer to her. “Isn’t that you?” You murmured the words, the hush of your consonants forcing her lean into you slightly. You flicked your hair over your shoulder, confident the smell of your carefully selected pineapple shampoo would meet her nose. By the way she leaned a little closer, you were hopeful she had noticed and appreciated her favourite scent emanating from you.
Like music to your ears, she giggled and finally, finally after all this time she blushed. “Come on,” she encouraged, eyes darting from yours in what you hoped was a nervous gesture, “spill it.”
“Garcia,” you told her sternly, dropping your chin in an effort to look more seductive. Something was beeping aggressively in the background, but she ignored it in favour of narrowing her gaze at you.
“I won’t tell anyone!” She assured, although you were sure it were not entirely true.
Widening your eyes, you fixed a gaze on her and very slowly enunciated her name. “Garcia”. She blinked a few times before her eyes widened in what you hoped was recognition. Wordlessly, mouth opening and closing like a fish, she pointed at herself. A little amused, but also a little terrified, you nodded with a grin that felt more like a grimace.
“Oh,” she finally uttered, “Oh! Me!” You were still nodding, unsure how to make yourself stop until she either denied or confirmed any reciprocated interest. “You’re interested in me!” You finally stopped nodding in order to cringe as your eyes darted to the ajar door. In your mind’s eye you could imagine Morgan hiding behind the door, ear pressed to the wood and chuckling to himself as he heard the proclamation. Although, considering how loudly she had spoken you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone at their desks had heard.
“Yes,” you confirmed, in a voice much softer than hers had been. “What-uh,” your mouth was suddenly entirely dry, this admittance of your feelings stealing both the courage from your veins and the moisture from your lips. Eventually, you were able to ask; “What… do you think?”
Bemused by the question, she mirrored you and folded her arms. “What do I think?” You nodded like an overeager child. “Well, frankly I think you’ve got fantastic taste.”
A little settled by Penelope’s positive response, you chuckled and agreed. “Of course,” the return of your boldness prompted a wink that you instantly regretted. “Erm…” you were’t entirely sure how to ask for the greater clarity you desired. Luckily, she sensed your uncertainty.
“Let’s talk about it more tonight?” You assented, hands still nervously wringing before you. She smirked as her gaze swept over the nervous action. “Tonight…on our date.”
“Yes!” You all but yelled, much too eagerly. Coughing, averting your eyes from her giggling features, you attempted to make your next words seem a little more collected. “I mean… “ you shrugged dramatically, “sounds good.”
She scoffed at your late show of stoicism and began ushering you from the room. “Oh, honey, I’m gonna show you a night you’ll never forget.” Your stubborn feet worked against her efforts to remove you.
“I don’t doubt it,” your giddiness was clear in your words.
“Now get outta here,” she insisted, “stop distracting me with that cute little skirt.”
