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. ❤️

Masterlist|Requests

“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.”