O Frabjous Day

Garcia didn't like waiting. She made took the keys from Reid and started to drive to Dexter's house to met the team there.

"We should really just wait," Reid told her from the passenger seat.

"I am not waiting."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out."

She pulled in behind the other SUVs. There was already an ambulance and the place was crawling. She flashed her FBI badge-no wonder Prentiss liked to do it in bars, it felt good-and got inside.

Morgan was the first to notice her. "Baby girl?"

"Where is Hotch?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"They're getting him ready to go the hospital. Why are you at a crime scene?"

"Derek, I love you and you are a god, but right now I'm going to see Hotch however weird he's acting and you will get out of my way or so help me you will feel the full wrath of Penelope Garcia," and she stormed past him.

Morgan looked at Reid. Reid shrugged. "She's been like that all day."

Garcia let herself in to the musty smelling house. Of course it was musty-it hadn't been opened until yesterday.

Hotch was under an oxygen mask, still looking woozy. She sidestepped the EMTs and took his hand. His eyes focused-somewhat-on her.

Garcia grinned. "You look like me after a really good party. You know, the next day."

Hotch snorted, and she could see some humor in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed her hand.

"Oh, and I need a pay raise," she continued. "Because I spent the whole time you were high in here talking to a crazy homicidal maniac. Which you said wasn't part of my job description. So I'll be needing a raise and some hazard pay. And a cooler title."

Hotch reached up his other hand and pulled off the mask. "Garcia, please be quiet before I break a rib."

He was smiling.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"You're sweet."

"Ride with me?"

His eyes were drifting over to the ambulance.

She squeezed his hand back.

"Absolutely."

. . . . . . . . . . .

The hospital released Hotch the next day. Garcia had brought his go-bag and suggested he burn the suit he'd be kidnapped in.

Midway through pulling on an undershirt-only the top of his head and eyes visible-he stopped and looked at her.

"Burn a suit?" he asked incredulously.

"It's bad luck now. What if, now, every time you wear it, people throw things at you, or you spill coffee on it, or you're in car wrecks, or-" "Has anyone ever told you your crazy?"

"Yeah. You."

Hotch finished getting dressed. "Penelope?" "No, I am not getting rid of the pictures I took of your bum while your back was turned."

He smiled but didn't take the bait.

"You did excellent. Hostage negotiation is difficult even for experts. You thought fast and handled the situation well."

Garcia blushed and shrugged. "Morgan and Rossi and everyone helped." "But you were on the phone with Charlotte. I don't think you understand how well you did. Everyone, even our unsub, is still alive. You figured out who and where and how to stop her.

"I'm recommending you for the Meritorious Civilian Award."

"Hotch!" she was still blushing but smacked his arm. "I don't want awards or anything. Next they'll try making me a hostage negotiator."

Hotch looked sheepish.

"No. Tell me you didn't recommend me for that, too."

"Just as a sort of auxiliary."

"Forget Charlotte. I will kill you."

Hotch held out his hands in surrender. "It's too late. You're a last resort person. You'll still be an analyst and work for the team. But sometimes you might get called out to handle situations like this."

She sighed and grabbed her alligator-shaped purse. Then she looped her arm through his.

"I will get you for this. You do know that?"

"I do."

"Good."

They left the hospital arm in arm, headed to the airport, and home.

Author's Note: I have no idea if the Meritorious Civilian Award is even real or applies to the FBI. I saw it in an episode of NCIS and figured I could use it here.