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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 5 months ago

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Not an Hour Later

The two years later follow up to This Time Was Different. Luke and Penelope at Lunacorn. The only reason it's done is because my personal angel of writing, @bacchicly, once again talked me through the forest of my own making.

4,346 words of Garvez. AO3

“The heart wants what it wants, or else…” Luke raise his shoulders in a finalizing shrug. She knew the rest. They both did, he didn’t need to finish it.

Her expression is apologetic, crumpling. Sad. “I’ve been so horrible to you. I mean, arguably worse lately than when I was trying to be mean in the beginning-”   He tries to smile, to reassure her, but nothing lifts after his shoulders come down. “And yet…I can’t seem to find it in me to care for anyone else. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Luke-"

He sighed, spreading his hands, “I didn’t say I was happy about it, but, I figure there’s no point in fighting it. I waited years to ask you out, I could wait a bit longer for you to figure out how I felt. Of course, I was hoping you might realize you feel the same by then.”

He watches himself in the 10th different variation of exchanges he’s unwillingly conjured up since sitting down.

It didn’t happen like that.

Sitting at the booth side of the table, his eyes pick up the clouds of pink and lavender acrylic under his cup, body still, fending off the cloud of uncertainty threatening to rain down. Trying to temper and quiet every little unhelpful voice popping up, every little twitch of muscle wanting to bounce out his anxiety. The giddy feeling sprouted from her earlier request long since gone, replaced with unhelpfully rewritten narratives playing out in his mind.

This was big.

For them, this was massive.

Seven years in the making, three years in the ground; it took 27 minutes to tear it all apart and just 5 to glue some scraps of hope back together.

But he wouldn’t let himself get too wrapped up in it. He couldn’t. For them, for work, for the friendship. He told himself in the remaining time between hanging up and sitting here he wouldn’t. She had a right to change her mind, and face to face was startlingly different from on the phone.

He focused on the groaning sound of machines grinding beans and steaming milk in the back room, and the faint chatter exchanged between groggy workers, no music yet to drown it all out.

He’d gotten there before her.

He tried not to think too hard about that, not put any stock in it. It didn’t mean anything. He lived closer, took less time to get ready is all.

After his shower he’d intentionally tried to slow down, have Roxy help pick out his outfit like he had on his first day at the office, play with her, work out a little, bide time. But it hadn’t helped. Each activity ending prematurely, not wanting to be late. And so, he was there first, over eager, regrettably hopeful, worried…

He seemed to always get “there” before her.

But this time was different.

This time she asked. This time she wanted to talk. They were doing this at her pace, and just like the good little soldier he was, he was ready at a moments notice. Heart ready to leap into action for this war of feelings, of love, of hope.

“Luke!”

His head shot up, looking toward the counter. He’d ordered an iced nitro coldbrew and a steamed lady gray for her, unsure which she’d want this morning, but asked that they hold off on making them, knowing she would arrive closer to the 45 minutes they had agreed on. It was just now 40 since they hung up.

He smiled and nodded his acknowledgment, the only patron in the cafe. Tai, the owner, flashed a quick smile and chin toss in return before turning back to his morning routine, leaving the drinks on the counter.

It’d only been 40 minutes he told himself before another wave of “she’s not coming-" could hit. This was Penelope, “perfection takes time.” He was lucky to have bargained the 45. He should have been using this time to organize his thoughts instead of fending off unhelpful negative ones. He had no idea what to say, what she wanted to say, what he wanted to say or should say… Ultimately it was better just to listen anyway, let her talk herself through whatever she was feeling. Not rush her. Don’t overwhelm her.

Luke sighed, rapping his knuckles on the table top, and rose from the padded vinyl seat to retrieve the drinks.

Crossing the door to the counter, a chime tinkled and crisp air blew in, knee-weakening perfume blowing in with it.

“Don’t get up! No need to get up on my account-” rushed in after.

Luke stopped, deviating to the familiar voice. Seeing her, his cheeks and arms floated up in a pavlovian response, but just as quickly he latched them back to his sides.

Did he hug her? Should he get the drinks first? Would it be too much if he kissed her? Was she expecting him to? Was she worried he’d try to? He’d kissed her plenty since the date, but the context was different now.

Maybe she needed space, he didn’t want to be presumptuous.

Penelope automatically leaned forward for a hug, but seeing his hands drop, jerked back, straightening, arms stuttering to her sides. The warm, filling, swish from earlier quickly turned tepid.

Right. Too soon? Too raw? Was he mad? Was he trying to be neutral?

Instead she crossed an arm over her stomach, hand finding warmth clutching at the joint of her elbow, and shifted from foot to foot.

A stifling combination of yearning and distance, insecurity and apprehension, clouded the salutation.

Well, this was great. Cool. Three seconds in and they were both acting weirder than Sergio on catnip. Why was it always like this with him? Just 50 minutes ago they were fine!

Awkwardly Luke turned, pointing to explain, “I wasn’t, I was getting your drink, ah, drinks,” he amended, looking to the counter at the two he’d ordered.

Looking back, sheepish smile tucking, the smallest bit of security crept in. She came. She followed through. She was here. He could feel that same Penelope-driven warmth spreading through him at the sight of her. “Perfect timing.”

“It was bound to happen once” she quipped offhand. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Once is all I need” came his reply just as easy, causing her smile to falter.

His inflection, the soft look, stinging. For just a minute she’d let herself think maybe this would be fine, that he wasn��t so hurt… that he didn’t feel it as deeply as she’d come to think he had… or that he was willing to let go.

Luke instantly regretted his words, it wasn’t meant to make her feel bad, the back and forth was natural with her, some light tease. He broadened his smile, trying to erase it, “Tai is gonna kill us if we let your coffee get watery and he has to remake it…I was sitting over there,” he said, pointing across the room, “Go. Sit. I’ll be there in a minute-“ But as soon as the words slipped out,

Shit.

The early accusations of “macho” rang in his head, “-Not that we have to sit there… We can sit wherever.”

Penelope let her amusement and relief shine back in return. Hooking an arm around his, she smiled brightly, turning him, “There is good. It’s great. But why don’t I come with you.” He was nervous.

Awkward and jagged greetings coloring things, sitting at the table, drinks gathered and nothing else to distract them, the cloud of uncertainty rolled back in, casting them in silence, tongues tied, eyes shifting, glances broken.

She knew this was going to be uncomfortable, but she’d somehow tricked herself into not believing that in favor of… in favor of him.

All the forgiveness and grace he’d shown her through the years.

And not just to her, but to everyone. It’s part of who he was.

It’s what makes her want to look up at him, to fall into the warmth of his eyes, their familiarity, their assurance, whether she deserves it or not, but something inside her won’t allow it, deems it too strong, too intimate, his look too arresting.

It’s awful, this feeling, he’s pushing 50 and has never experienced feeling so restless. His mind can’t stop thinking about how to position his body, how to mirror her, and he can’t figure out what to do with his hands.

He runs his palms down his thighs a final time and settles on clutching his mostly empty cup. When his knee jerks to life, he quickly tethers it back down. When he looks at her, her eyes jump away, and he sees her shift. With nothing solid to settle on, his eyes fall too.

Maybe she’s punishing herself, or maybe it’s shame, but despite the wanting, the longing, every time her eyes catch his she feels like wriggling free, exposed, dirty and guilty… and just a little bit sanctimonious. She wasn’t all wrong.

Sitting in silence, sitting in discomfort, nothing but his own thoughts, a small part of him bubbles up mad. He wanted to protect himself, but Phil would say they needed to talk it out. The only way this would work, he knew, was to be open and come into it free of grudges, free of negativity, so he’d come with a mind to be as understanding and positive, as light and encouraging as possible. Let her say what she needed to. Hadn’t that come through over the phone? He loved her. He wanted to be with her, wanted this to work, he wasn’t going to risk pushing her away for the sake of pride and pettiness. He wasn’t blaming her. He’d never be that guy. He could be careful, but how careful could you be split open with your heart exposed for someone who’d been holding a knife to it for years?

Penelope grows antsy as the silence stretching between them is overtaken by the increasing drone and pop of a waking cafe. They can’t just sit here forever, after the eye opening dream and further confirming phone call, she’d asked him to meet and talk in person. Face to face. She owed this that much, this was on her. She wanted this. Didn’t she? Looking up in time to catch his eyes shifting away again she closes hers, taking a deep breath.

Lucifer and Hades this was hard.

“Okay, someone needs to start. If we sit here doing nothing, we’ll just go back and forth and back and forth and back and forth with the eye thing and nothing will get done, so, you start and I’ll listen. Be completely up front and honest with everything you’re feeling.”

Luke looks from his coffee to her hands clasped on the table. Her copper fingertips dig white and red into the spaces between her knuckles. With eyes cast to the mid-point of the table between them, he lightly scoffs, “…Neither of us want that.” His eyes float up briefly, checking in, “When we ended our call you were starting to tell me how you feel… And you were apologizing-”

The ending is injected with a painfully playful tone, the little tease he can’t help but add to nearly every one of their interactions, but the first part is entirely serious. Penelope asking for his voice, where before she’d always had her mind made up on how things should go beforehand was a clear change of pace, but he’s more interested in her voice. She already knows the important feelings, everything else is meaningless. Everything more recent is bound to have him ending in a frustrated rage at bad choices… He needs to hear what she has to say so they can sort what they both want…what they both feel.

She huffs at the joke, her eyes darting to his collar, to his eyes, and then dive back to the table, afraid of looking too deep, too long.

Here. Here is safe, she can look at the table, his hands, instead of directly into his piercing eyes. Eyes she knows, despite the joke, are filled with that same hurt from her dream, from that day in the office…

“Well, yeah, because what you’re thinking and feeling probably aren’t nice, but it’s what I need…what we need. We can’t start off in a place of you holding your feelings back because you think it might hurt me.”

"Me? Holding back? You..! He goes silent, mouth forming a line.

“That’s rich. You aren’t listening to know- You don't hear anything I say. -You can’t even look at me. You don't admit-- Penelope, you have got to take some…some…some… responsibility."

"Me? You don't look at m-"

"I can’t!”

“So it’s okay for you-"

"You have got to be kidding, me-”

Penelope scoffs. Luke’s whole face pinches up taking a breath, huffing it out his nose he relents.

“Fine. You're right I don't look at you. I can’t, because if I do…"

"What?"

“I- don’t- Don’t make me say it. You know. YOU know-"

“Know what?” Her expression is so earnest it’s maddening.

"If I look at you, I'll let it all go- brush it all away…You look at me and I’d do anything to fix it. Anything to make you feel better. Even if it-“ He pauses, abandoning the line, “It’s all for you. It’s always BEEN for you; Elizabeth, the date, Sergio, the conference room, GREEN-” He stops himself, fingers flexing, feeling the rush of blame and anger welling where he has no right to be angry for the reasons he feels- jealousy, envy, desire- She isn’t his, so it doesn’t matter.

“OH, DON’T-“ her eyes flash a warning, but just as suddenly, her look softens. Eyes meeting his, willing herself to overcome the dread and shame, take the pain she knows is waiting, the hurt she’s inflicted.

Take responsibility.

It wasn’t her responsibility to nurse his broken heart, but it was her job as his friend all that time to treat him like one…To have given them a fair shot, not been so cruel… That was the part she knew hurt, that she had known him so long, knew him, but treated him like a stranger, and then welcomed in an actual stranger… Tears pool and her eyes flutter blinking them away, “I’m sorry. Luke, I am. I’m so, so sorry for taking advantage of you and -and-”

But it’s too late, her initial indignation ignites something in him. He looks away laughing, because what else can he do when she does that. “Oh my go- god damn…Even now I can’t! Even now you’re doing it! I can’t do it! I can’t be mad at you! You -Ugh! You put on this face THAT FACE!” He points, body rising with voice.

And here it is. The fighting. He’d swear it was by design. Some slip of a moment for her to hold on to, say “see? We’re no good. We’re toxic. All we do is fight…” He knows it’s not true, can’t give her that raft to hang on to, but he’s loud and he knows it, he’s erupting and can’t stop it, part of him doesn’t care to this time… He is careful, measured Luke watching this disaster explode from behind the glass. He’s embarrassing and theatrical and cartoonish, hands waving in pantomime.

“With your big, sad, eyes and that sad wobbly lip, all innocent and lambie and oh no, sir, not me, sir! And I just- GOD! You’re impossible!“

His months of mounting frustration and buried misplaced rage feel like a living thing that’s taken over, tense and rolling, flames filling the room, burning it all down. He’s sure this is the end and perhaps now it is… Maybe he had been holding back. Maybe she was right…

But if his rage was an inferno, her giggle was a pot lid starving it of oxygen, the unexpected tine snuffing all quiet.

It’s not funny, he’s mad, but she laughs because, well, it’s a little funny. Seeing him like that. Luke, he’s never like this, loud and explosive and ranting and animated. But she doesn’t want him to think she’s not taking him seriously, not listening, so she tucks away the smile, saving the ridiculous display in her memory bank for later.

“Okay… Ok. What-‘ she bites her lip, adorably casting around, continuing, “we can do this without looking. Like training wheels until all the big things are settled. We could… I don’t know, use menus or something. Because I do! I want you to feel like you can express your self and I want you to feel heard and like I’m listening because I am. I swear I am! And I’m open to it, I’m receptive. Luke,” she suddenly reaches out grasping his hand in hers, “Luke, I want this to work.”

At her touch, at the soothing softness of her voice, he crumples, shoulders hunching, forehead falling to rest in the palm of his free hand, fingers digging through his hair.

Her touch is worse than the look.

“Trust me, no body wants this more than me,” he murmurs miserably, “but Penelope, you are so unreachable. Even after all this time… You want me to be vulnerable with you, to communicate, I have. You’ve been watching from a tower, not hearing me from the other side of the table. I told you when I first started out, I was here for you. That hasn’t changed.”

She knows the conversation he’s referring to, but it feels like a life time ago. Reid was in prison and things weren’t looking so good, and Luke, with no reason to, came swooping in. Reid’s gone again, but this time he’s safe… She is too.

She hasn’t let go of his had, he hasn’t given any indication that she should, so she keeps holding on, holding on to the part of him that he’ll let her have right now, “You’re right. I know. You’re right. You are. You want vulnerability? Clear communication? Here is my most vulnerable part clearly communicated: I am damaged, Luke. Those things- trust, desire, openness, have only ever been weaponized and used against me. To manipulate me, to take advantage of me and abuse me…So, I closed myself off…Which is why I- I lied… earlier. On the phone. You asked if I knew and I told you I didn’t really know and also that I was afraid. But. I did know. I knew that…I thought that…if we got together things might go really good. That we would be really good, but I knew me, and I was worried I’d wake up one day and see how good things were going and I’d think about the trajectory, the natural path, and what you’d expect and I didn’t know if I wanted those things and I still don’t know if I want those things and I’d mess everything up, and it would be… REALLY bad. So, it was better to mess it all up in the beginning before anything ever really got started, before we got in too deep and maybe possibly still have what we had instead of…blowing it all to Georgia with a messy breakup.“

She doesn’t want him to think she’s trying to manipulate him, but the thoughts swirl and collect, a dozen arrows in a quiver, all shooting and stinging her eyes, she can’t help it as her voice gets a little full, a little tear-filled, history brimming at the rims, “I’ve given…so many parts of myself away, and been left without a second thought. Used for what I could provide, be it information, or- or treats, or a mood boost. I let myself trust people who said they love me. I’ve given myself away so many times I’d say there’s nothing left for me to give… but I want there to be. Because I want to be able to give you something. I want to give you everything. I want to believe that it’s safe with you- that I’m safe with you- but Luke… I can’t. I can’t trust me.“

It’s the thing he wishes most she wouldn’t say. She isn’t willing to fight. She isn’t willing to try, and until she is, he can’t any more.

He hesitates, eyes falling to her hand holding his, cupping it, and his head shakes a little, “-Then…I don’t see a way through.”

The admission is heart stopping- a breath stealing prospect. Had he talked himself out of it? Had she? Talked him into believing she’d never want this as much as him? And suddenly everything in her wells and rages, she feels cold and ridged, is certain her face, as heavy as it feels, shows it. There’s a break in the building cacophony around them, everything going silent and flat except for her. “Did you just give up?”

He lifts his eyes finding her staring dead at him. “Is there a point? Is there a point you’ll ever really let your guard down and be willing to just live it and take the risk? With me?”

Slowly, she lets his hand go, Luke unfurls his body, leaning back, “You did. You gave up. You’re giving up.” It’s an accusation more than an observation.

“How can you give up something you never had?”

“All this and you finally tell me and you don’t even really TELL me, and then, and this. And- Look, I don’t mean to bring up the past, or point fingers but, you didn’t say anything! You could have said something! Luke! You let me believe that you didn’t like me! For a really long time!”

“Ah, no. Not true. I asked you out. Why would I do that if I didn’t like you?! You said the date was clunky, which, yeah, I’ll give you that it definitely started off that way. But then you proceeded to insult me and mischaracterize me, being the meanest you’ve ever been to me. I figured either you really didn’t like me, or you got the worst case of cold feet I’d ever seen, and Penelope Garcia has never shied away from giving it to me straight, so I had to go with the first theory.”

Yeah, of course he was holding on to that one. “Ok. True, that was a poor decision and I- um. I am admitting that. I was wrong. Well, I mean, not wrong. It's just it's- like I said, I liked you. A lot. And like, you're you. And I’m me. And then in the moment, I panicked and I thought ‘Oh god, this isn’t good. We haven’t even started and this is bad. What if it isn't good?’ You know? Like wow. What if it’s terrible? So I made a joke except it didn’t come out that way and then I just- cold spikes and I said what I said and I couldn’t take it back and-”

“Are you saying I, Luke Alvez, made you, Penelope Garcia nervous?” his eyes narrow and his mouth quirks up.

Yes, that’s exactly what she was describing. “What?! No- i’M NO. Oh geeze, here I am trying to have a serious conversation and you and your macho conceited fat head have to butt in.” Okay. Feels again.

His face drops serious, Luke letting out a stern “Penelope-"

She bites back a smirk, “Sorry, old habits…” Her eyebrows knit as she frowns, voice small, referring back to his either-or on the date, “….Well, it wasn’t the first thing. It was the second one…”

“Ha. Yeah, I got that.”

Sighing, exasperated but finally free, her shoulders hike down, “Luke, you have a lot of right to be mad about the horrible things I said. I don’t want to fight, I want us to figure this out…” He lets her fingers thread and fan his, playing with them as she looks out across Lunacorn, muttering thoughtfully to herself, “We should have started with something less high pressure.”

The thought of dinner being high pressure strikes him funny, Luke grinning, “We deal with situations more high pressure than food and drinks all the time.”

Her eyes cut to his, “Exactly! Which is why when we’re out to have a good time it shouldn’t cause the same anxiety as work!”

“So it’s my fault I put us in a situation where you thought you’d end up hurt?” He doesn’t know why he asks it, it’s not a helpful question, couldn’t help make progress, but it tumbles out anyway.

“Yes- NO-" Her face scrunches in conflict “You don’t think you would, but you could. That’s the scary part.”

“Pen, we’re spinning our wheels here, what do you suggest?” He’s exhausted, and if his last question was anything to go by, they wouldn’t be making any final decisions like this. But on the bright side, she was looking at him again and it wasn’t making him feel the need to absolve or comfort her. He was feeling like he could really talk to her again.

“I- I don’t know.”

His mouth opens, then closes forming a line. He was unfair to push, 45 minutes wasn’t enough for her to work through anything herself, he’d had years to work through it and still only knew he wanted to be with her, not how. He continues with a slowly rocking nod, “Penelope, you need to figure out how this’ll work for you. When you have, you know where to find me.”

It was with that, feeling more relaxed and confident than he had in months, Luke stood, and, tossing his empty cup in the trash, left. Not forever, he was hoping, not even close. But he’d been the one taking risks, putting himself on the line. Now with Penelope finally on the same page, the ball was in her court.

They’d made some not insignificant headway, but the rest, again, was something she’d have to come to. And like he’d been doing, all he could do was wait.

Bacchicly's also the reason there'll be a part 3 though. So blame her.

#criminal minds #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds evolution #snails tales #angst #fighting #talking #working it out #or something like that #fan fiction #ao3

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