Rain pressed softly against the windows of Quantico, turning the glass walls of the BAU into blurred mirrors of fluorescent light and exhausted faces. Most of the unit had already gone home hours ago, leaving only the hum of computers and the distant buzz of unfinished paperwork lingering through the bullpen. Penelope Garcia sat cross-legged in her chair beneath the glow of three monitors, surrounded by stuffed animals, rainbow pens, and enough empty coffee cups to qualify as structural support. Her fingers flew across the keyboard while an old pop song played quietly from her speakers.

Then came the familiar knock against her desk.

“Working late without me, baby girl?”

Garcia’s smile appeared before she even looked up.

Derek Morgan stood beside her desk with his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened slightly after a fourteen-hour case that had left the entire team drained. Even exhausted, Morgan carried himself with effortless confidence, broad shoulders blocking the hallway light as if he naturally belonged at the center of every room he entered. There was always something unfairly composed about him — the sharp jawline, the calm dark eyes, the controlled strength in every movement — but Garcia had long ago learned that the charm was only half the story.

“Well,” she replied dramatically, “some of us are committed to justice and truth while others disappear mysteriously around dinner time looking suspiciously handsome.”

Morgan laughed softly, low and warm. “You flirting with me, Garcia?”

“I am aggressively appreciating fine art.”

He leaned against the edge of her desk, arms folded across his chest as he watched lines of code flicker across her screens.

You had heard the conversation, not meaning to eavesdrop but happening to come back to your own desk. You falter in your steps before getting within sight, you stop there, listening. The doubt crippled in you once again. Lately, the flirting between Derek and Penelope was starting to bother you. Doubts were whirling in your mind, maybe you weren’t the girl for him as he was telling you. Maybe it was his best friend, after all.