#i want to kms violently in front of the people who admitted her into those fucking magnet programs and not me

[hopalongfairywrens]

Sick of this shit

[okimargarvez]

MELTED

Original title: Melted.

Prompt: sweetness, fluff, warmth, snow.

Warning: none.

Genre: romantic, comedy, soft.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 14 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘.

Song mentioned: L’ultima notte al mondo, Tiziano Ferro.

This story is dedicated to @itsdawnashlie, @theshamelessmanatee & my kore @talesoffairies. ❤😊

This is for all the times that I made you cry or saddened with my other stories. I can also write cheerful things (I hope so) but I think I love anguish.

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

MELTED

 The snow falls, and I don't understand ... that I really feel ... I give up, every reference is gone, the sidewalks and houses and hills disappeared, it seemed nice yesterday ...

 Another case had been brilliantly solved. Penelope shudders as she wears her pink coat. She closes the office door and type in the usual code. The others have already gone home; Matt was afraid of being stuck in Quantico. They had managed to land with the jet almost miraculously. The woman looks out the window. The storm is still in full force, snowflakes continue to fall towards the ground, covering everything, making everything uniform... different. Magical. Even those government buildings change, they look less geometric, less angular.

Everything changes with the snow.

It would be nice to be able to believe it. Unfortunately, what she can't change is the fact that she's going home alone, aboard the faithful Esther, not properly suited to such a challenge. And she also forgot to change the tires...

A cough behind her makes her jump. Apparently, it's not the last one left. Another living being has decided to defy fate ... she turns around and gets confused when she sees Agent Alvez, his red nose trying to hold back a sneeze. Surely, he had not covered himself enough, she thinks, without realizing it.

-What are you still doing here?- she asks, trying not to laugh at his clumsy attempts not to sneeze. It's not just the nose, his whole face is red. While waiting for his answer with her hand she goes in search of a handkerchief. -Take it.- she hands it to him and their fingers touch each other. It's certainly not the first time, but like the first time, she feels the ground vibrating under her feet. Not bad, he doesn't know. He didn't even notice it.

-Thanks.- he replies with a sigh, before he falling in a consecutive series of sneezing and coughing. -I think I'm coming down with something.- he admits, with a tone that confirms his hypothesis. Penelope can't help but worry about him, but not because it's him, this is her vocation, taking care of others, whoever they're.

However, Luke didn't answer her question. But she decides to fly over. She turns back to the huge window to admire the view. Indifferent to the problems it causes, the snow continues its descent and its mission, trying to whitewash everything. -I want to see how I'll get home with poor Esther.- Luke isn't so much impressed to hear her call her car by name, after all it's something that men do very often and in any case it's Garcia. Everything is special to her, and she makes everything special. -Maybe I should call a taxi ...- she adds, in a lower tone of voice, but the man hears her anyway.

-I can accompany you.- he offers himself with apparent calm, as always, with her. Not because he feels sure to receive a yes, simply because he can't do without it, when it comes to Penelope, he isn't able to restrain himself, tenderness, the need to make her happy and make her smile or laugh (about him, too), love, are stronger than any fear may have.

She's about to reply him in kind, starting with a soliloquy on the thousands of reasons why she would never accept his proposal: he is a Newbie, she doesn't know him well enough (lie), Sergio is waiting her ... But when she turns back into his direction what she sees is a hopeful expression on a man too good to be true, even more beautiful with that sickly and needed of care... She throws back all those sharp words in her throat and simply shakes her head, walk towards the stairs.

This time the elevator can't take it. It's a sign of destiny? It has always been their magical area, they have provoked each other so many times in this small space ... In nearby she met Roxy and called him for the first time by name.

Luke follows her, trying to breathe gradually, his head is spinning. A beginning of full-blown influence. Perfect, to try and impress Penelope. He sighs resigned. They reach the area with indoor parking. Even from there it's easy to realize that the storm has become more intense. He looks at her, without saying anything; he watches her shake her head, clench her fists, glance at Esther and then at him. -Okay. I accept the passage.- a very strong sneeze and then a huge smile on his face.

 ...and I, I, buried by its white, I look in the mirror and I don't know anymore... what I'm... looking...

 Penelope wears a very heavy coat. Gloves. Scarf. The padded boots (not of animal fur, of course). A cap with pon pon, naturally pink. Luke is wearing only his sports jacket, too light. The boots that always puts, in any season, but they proved to be not waterproof. No gloves, no scarves, no headphones. Yet it's she, the one who, since they boarded the truck, continues to complain of get cold. Despite the heating is at the maximum.

-Cold, cold, cold, cold ... - repeats like a strange cantilena, with a not very constant volume. The man didn't want to turn on the radio, because he doesn’t know what music she likes. Lie. Because he wants to listen to her voice as much as possible. It's the first time they're so alone. No, another lie. Even when they went to see Phil, they were alone in that sense. But there was an excuse enough to be there: the dog to be delivered. Instead today ... today he feels that it's different.

For the snow, because they're in the middle of the night and almost all the people with more brain are holed up in their warm homes, safe, and there're very few other cars. He never saw Quantico like that ... deserted. It's unreal.

In fact, he has never seen any such uninhabited city. It's also a bit disturbing.

If he were alone, he would also have a little fear. But he’s not alone.

-Cold, cold, cold.- Penelope continues to repeat incessantly. -Cold outside and cold inside, cold outside and cold inside.- at some point she changes slightly gear. -Alone, alone, alone. Ever alone.- she probably didn't realize she was talking aloud, or at least loud enough for him to hear her, and not in her head. He still to remain silent, unsure of his ability to help her, deeply saddened, but also surprised (in a positive sense) in realizing that she's suffering from his own problem.

They are proceeding at 10 km/h. Visibility is very low and he certainly doesn't want to make an accident. He would be able to go a lot, but much faster. In war he had to drive a tank in the desert; this storm is nothing compared. But he didn’t was with her there. Luke brakes gently when the light turns from orange to red. He turns his head towards her and takes her hand. He doesn't feel her skin, because she wears those gloves, even are pink. But his heart still beats madly. -Hey, Penelope, listen to me. You're not alone.- she looks at him, too, surprised, but not too much. -Roxy would like to see you again. I She miss you so much, you know?- both are aware that he's not talking about only  his dog. Their eyes remain chained until the green of the traffic light reflexes on the blonde's glasses and forces himself to start again. Only Roxy?

 I met your sweet smile, with this white snow, now it upsets me...

 Penelope would like to refuse Luke's invitation to stay with him. It's inappropriate. It's dangerous. There are a lot of good reasons for declining the proposal. They are all quite rational. Above all, she's scared of what she desires.

If it goes badly...

At least ten logical reasons for not accepting.

One is enough for her.

 ...the snow falls, also falls the world, even it's not cold what I feel now...

 -Even I would like it, if you came to my house.- Luke doesn't think, doesn't reason, doesn't reflect; if he did, he would stay in silent. Just talk. -It's so big ... too big for a single person ...- he bursts into a pretty violent sneeze. She hands him another handkerchief. -Thanks.- he blow his nose. He thinks he's really unattractive, reduced in that state; he doesn't know that he's getting the opposite effect on Penelope. The heart of the blonde is starting to melt ... -for a person and a dog!- he corrects himself, with a giggle. But then he comes back serious. -It makes me sad to think you lonely in a cold apartment. Pardon, with Sergio.- she loves the way he talks about his dog and her cat; he considers them really part of the family. She tries so much tenderness to see those eyes shining, the nose more and more red. He was supposed to have been dress heavier.

And it's then that she realizes it. Luke needs someone to take care of him. Someone worries about him. And someone for which worry. Not someone but... a woman. She.

 ...and remember you, remember me, all this courage isn’t snow ... and it never melts, even if it has to...

 -No one should be alone. Above all, not when it snows like that.- and he is right. She looks at him, observes the way he holds the steering wheel, the way he taps his fingers, his eyes fixed on the road, focused. The hair is messed up and wet. Penelope is upset by the sweetness of her colleague. She would like to rebel, deny, still deny.

Then they arrive in front of his house. Here it snowed less, compared to Quantico. However she feels inexplicably sad. He does not want to go down. He does not want to leave. He does not want to leave it.

-The choice is yours, Garcia.- and she knows it. She feels the weight of responsibility for the decision. There will be other snowfall, probably. There may be other occasions. But if it were not so? The woman undoes her belt and feels almost naked, despite all the layers of clothes she wears. Luke unlocks the doors. She puts her hand on the handle and pulls it down. Goes down. Don’t look back, she repeats. But she does so, new Orpheus.

And he is there, looking right at her. That hopeful expression that breaks her heart.

 Things that are often said, improvising, if I'd really fell in love, it'd just be you, the last night in the world, I'd spend it with you ... while happy I cry...

 Only five minutes pass. Just enough time to grab the suitcase, always ready in the house, and the pet carrier with the rightful owner inside.

Still, it looks like hours for Luke. The clock seems to have frozen, influenced by the external climate. Since she got out of the van, he started to feel an absolute cold.

Finally, he found the courage to reveal his feelings. Not in a clear, direct way, but those allusions are already something significant. Penelope is naive, not stupid. Accomplice of this sudden courage is the white frame that envelops everything. Instead of freezing their hearts, it seems to have finally melted them, warmed them even more. And now he can't tolerate a second without her, without seeing her, hearing her voice, her scent.

In reality, nothing assures him that she will re-emerge from the building, who will come back out, who will come back to him ... And yet, that look...

Then, she appears in the viewfinder, while trying to carry two heavy weights. Luke doesn't even think twice about it. He comes down, slams the door and runs towards her. Literally. Both realize that all his frenzy isn't just to help her. The man stops in front of her. They stare at each other for a long time. Penelope always wearing headphones, gloves, heavy coat, padded boots and scarf. Luke always with a blazer and too light ankle boots. Now the man's nose is no longer the only red thing; even the hands soon become of that color, progressively disperse heat into the air. But he doesn't feel the cold, because he is near her and his warmth comes from within.

Penelope doesn't hold back a chuckle. She doesn't want him to get sick or get worse cold and cough. But he's too ridiculous, so similar to Rudolf, the reindeer driving Santa's sleigh with his bright nose. And soon several snowflakes begin their battle in trying to cover him. He seems to have an acute form of dandruff. Or rejuvenate. Become a child. A sweet and beautiful baby.

 ...and only I, I... can understand in the world how much it is useless, to hate...  deeply...

 Luke doesn't understand why she laughs, but loves that sound. He should, logically, feel it, the cold. But nothing, the impulses can't overcome the physical barrier. His body realizes that he doesn't have the proper equipment to counteract the outside temperature, but the rest, his mind, is too busy contemplating anything else.

Then Penelope puts her gloved hands on his red cheeks. Luke has almost no courage to swallow. To move. To breathe.

It's all so perfect ...

The snowflakes have settled in his hair. But they have also reached those much clearer than her. And her nose and her mouth, because the woman has raised her head to the sky, trying to better contemplate that impressive spectacle. -Let's go?- she asks him, the normal tone, neither too high (would risk awakening the rest of the world), nor too low. But her voice is however different from the usual, the sound propagates in a different way, rising above those white walls. Her hands always on his face. He nods, but doesn't move.

 I met your sweet smile, with this white snow, now it upsets me...

 She remains still and looks at him. They think the same thing.

 ...the snow falls, also falls the world, even it's not cold what I feel now...

 Luke slowly brings his right hand up to the woman's face and at first brushes her nose; his skin is icy and makes her shiver. A few flakes of snow come off and fall to the ground, melting. Then the hand gradually moves on her lips. Another shiver, this time along her spine. She doesn't know whether to blame only the cold.

He doesn't think, like when they were in the car and proposed her to stay in his house. If he did, again, he would instantly stop talking. He would become aware of the risks to which he exposes himself, of the possibility of ending with a broken heart. But he doesn't think; he acts.

The atmosphere is perfect. She is perfect.

 ...and remember you, remember me, all this courage isn’t snow ... and it never melts, even if it has to...

 Luke leans almost in slow motion on her. With half-closed eyes he sees Penelope rise on the tips to facilitate in his enterprise. His lips bend in a smile, but he doesn’t distract. Her mouth is almost as cold as his, but for a short while longer. Their hearts beat very hard, pumping the blood and continuing to disperse heat. This time, however, neither of them feels the frost that surrounds them.

The truck is open, he didn't think to lock it, he didn't believe that he would have spent all this time outside (he hasn’t regret at all); anyone could notice and steal it. The storm has increased the intensity and on their heads, there is an equal layer of snow mixed with ice.

Nothing matters, except them.

He’s so happy to feel the need to cry with joy. It never happened to him before. Never. Not even once.

Then, a meow.

-I could stand here kissing you even all night.- Penelope confesses, her hot breath clashes with the outside temperature creating a cloud of steam in front of the man's nose and tarnishing her glasses. Their lips are only a few inches away. Her hands, including gloves, still on her cheeks.

His hands, during the effusion, shifts on her neck, inside the protected area of ​​the coat and scarf; his hands are freezing, really frozen, but the woman discovers she's willing to endure this cold for the rest of her life, if she is given the chance to stay with him for the equivalent of that time. -But Sergio doesn't agree- she continues. -and you could get sick even more.- she admonishes him, a bit of severity. The commotion makes its way ever faster, from the throat to the eyes. Penelope is worried about him; she cares about him. No one, apart from his family, Phil and Roxy, has ever really interested in him like this. But he drives away the melancholy with a firm sigh, which sends him the air (at least -5°), directly into the lungs, certainly not a good move. He doesn't want to think about what he hasn't had until now.

He wants to live this moment. Nothing more.

Her tone is so thoughtful and sweet. She was never been like this with him before. Nor did he ever dare to hope that one day it would happen. He doesn't resist, he still gives her a kiss.

 Don't allow yourself to feel good, without exceptions ...

 He takes the suitcase, the other hand in hers, even if they have to do a few meters to get to the truck, the other occupied with the pet carrier and his cold and annoyed inhabitant.

They close the doors and they burst out laughing almost simultaneously.

 …collapses ... in front of everyone and then smile! Love isn't a privilege, it's only skill, it's to laugh at every problem, while those who hate tremble...

 It's an outburst, a completely normal liberating reaction, even though anyone who accidentally passes here by four o'clock at night would surely take them for two crazy people, two escaped from the asylum. And basically, they're crazy. Mad at least as much as Hamlet was, between to be or not to be; crazy because they're brave enough to admit the truth and you know that in the country of the lie (the world in general) who telling the truth is mad.

When they manage calm down, both breathless, their lungs aching, they look at each other. Luke turns the key in the ignition and luckily the engine roars. He pushes the clutch and accelerator and they move away.

They don’t speak, but this time he decides to turn on the radio. Naturally, despite the time, each station transmits Christmas songs, for the most part famous and super commercial. Luke considers that he has never loved this festivity, especially the economic part, all the money behind it, the department stores and a Santa Claus created by one of the most famous brands in the world, so much to have shaped a generation (maybe even more than one), conditioned filmographies and entire existences and imaginaries ... More than anything he has never endured the idea that “Christmas is time to be better" or that in this period "You can give more". But why only at Christmas? Is not it a bit too easy to allow yourself the other 364 days of the year to make the exactly the opposite?

But now he discovers he can appreciate even those songs so lacking in the true Christmas spirit, because everything is different in the company of Penelope. Even the lights that illuminate the streets, those bright signs with greetings, stylized snowflakes, firs, stars and so on and so forth ... he, so fervent supporter of one of the maxims of Charles Bukowski, according to which It's Christmas from late October. Lights are switched on even earlier, meanwhile people are even more wobbling. I would like a December with switched off light along with switched on people.

And maybe now everything is different precisely because he has near the most switched person in the whole universe. Because he sees the world through Penelope's eyes.

They arrive at their destination. They go down.

They should immediately enter the house, but once again they get caught out of the atmosphere, like two disobedient children. Luke stops to look at her intensely.

-What is there?- she asks, worrying about having something out of place. -There's something on my face?- he approaches, shaking his head.

-No, your face is perfect. Like the rest. As always.- she winces. But then she returns his gaze, hearts in her eyes. He didn't think the time would ever come when that look would be dedicated to him. He didn't believe he's so lucky. But he had hoped for it. Oh, if he had hoped for it.

Then, that smile.

 Your sweet smile is so transparent that after there is nothing... it's so simple, so deep, that it zeroed everything else and make the world end...

 And a snowball ends up directly on his nose. He looks at her, stunned, incredulous.

Sergio meows, annoyed, but the two humans have just begun the new fight.

-Penelope! - he exclaims, wiping with his hand.

-Sorry.- she promptly replies, that usual innocent air that drives him mad, under which she hides a veil of mischief ... or even the opposite. -I didn't resist .- she admits, shrugging.

Luke pretends to have been hurt. It's an overreaction and she can't understand why he got to be so mad about. He turns his back even. She's about to call it, when a white and transparent sphere hits her right on her glasses.

It's war.

They play for a few minutes (It seems like so much longer to them and Sergio agrees too), without making noise or exchanging words, because is so late. Everything is even more unreal because they are illuminated only by street lamps and the moon. The white of the snow reflects and amplifies the light, and at the same time it cushions and contains the noise. They chase each other, until Luke catches her and puts a few snowflakes down her back. Not before he grabs her, holding her from the waist. Soon the taking turns into a hug; Penelope tries not to moan while small pieces of ice melt coming down her skin. He'll pay for it, but not now.

-I promise I'll warm up you, I'll repay you for the warmth I stole you.- he tells her. The woman laughs, a little too loudly, but nobody comes out to complain. She sighs, resting her head against his shoulder. Never in her life, she has felt so protected and loved at the same time; not even with Derek. Not this way, not so intensely.

 ... and it reminds me that courage it's not like this... snow...

 -I love you- Luke whispers in her ear. And the Penelope of yore (ghost of Christmas past) wouldn't believe it. She would think it's premature. Wrong. Which he just wants to get her into bed. Which is exclusively the fault (or merit) of the snow. But not today, not this time. She closes her eyes, trying to savor those few words that have immense power, to melt their hearts. In a good way and not.

-Me too.- she turns to him. He's an icicle. All red. Covered with snowflakes, mostly already loose; like her. -I love you, Luke.- She feels the need to tell this, looking at his face, saying it with his name, with a clear and firm tone, because he too could doubt, because he's as insecure as she is, they have the same problems, they're more similar than she ever would have been willing to admit, only two hours ago.

They are two fragile souls. Like this ice crystal that is placed right on the tip of his red nose ... -For that, it's better if we enter.- she finally adds, forcing him to come out of the same contemplation that she had performed just before. She rises on the tips only for another very short light kiss.

-You're right.- and finally, they come in.

 I met your sweet smile, with this white snow, now it upsets me...

 First of all, Luke turns the heat up. He doesn't have radiators or heaters, but a beautiful wood stove. Penelope feels she could easily fall in love with this place. She already imagines reading novels, pinks and yellows, her feet on his legs, while he goes crazy to the resolution of a crossword puzzle.

Then the fundamental reciprocal presentation between Sergio to Roxy takes place, the equivalent of the future co-father-in-law meeting. The result is positive.

Then comes the time to change their dress, abandon those clothes now soaked, who for work, who for simple foolishness, who (both) feel like a child again... It's another important phase of their relationship that is just laying the foundation. -With another I would say that it's all hurried, that it's wrong, that I should not be here ...- she starts to speak, after both have removed jackets and shoes, but still too many layers divide them. He stares at her and listens carefully. -With you, no.- she smiles, shudders. -Once I open my heart, there's no way to stop the process. It's irreversible.- she reveals in a whisper.

-I'll take care of your heart.- he doesn't need to specify that this is a promise.

-I know you'll do it.- she echoes him, surprising most of all of herself. -I can't deny it, if I look into your eyes as you say it. I've never been a self-confident person, in spite of my outbursts and shiny clothes ...- he nods. He already understood it. They smile. -I've never felt something more than pretty.- she admits, shrugging as if it were small thing. -I don't want to be afraid anymore.- she finally says, despite the trembling voice would deny her intentions.

-You're more than that, more than enough to me. You're everything to me. You were it even before- there is no need to say anything else. The layers of cloth fall to the ground one after the other, like petals of a daisy marred by loving fingers that only wanted to know if the feeling was reciprocated or not. Or bask in a useless hope. The cold hands of the man run through her back, the same route already traced by the ice and then they come to breast. Penelope doesn't know if her moans are more due to gestures in themselves or in the cold.

-Do you see that I was right? - is the only sensible sentence that comes out of her lips.

-What?- he asks, a little too distracted.

-Your hands!- the woman screams. -The North Pole has sent a copyright complaint! - Luke laughs, wondering once again where she found jokes like that. Then he kisses her. Instead the woman's hands are warm. Perhaps because she wore gloves all the time. Perhaps also for other reasons. They run through the man's chest and fit into his dark, tangled and wet hair.

 ...the snow falls, also falls the world, even it's not cold what I feel now...

 And outside it does not stop snowing, while they prepare a hot chocolate, the one longed for by Donald Duck in Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas. They settle on the sofa, with a huge and heavy blanket on them.

-Are you sure that when it stops snowing, you'll not back to being the ice queen?- he partially teases her, but it's even too serious. She notices it. But she decides doesn't let his demons and his melancholy win.

-No, Luke.- she gives him a small fist on his chest. -I'm the queen of nice, not of ice.- she gives her one of this. He too strengthens his grip. -I don't give up.- she says firm, cuddling better against him, on his chest, in a fetal position; like a child, his little girl.-There is only one word, to define this moment.- Penelope breaks the silence again. The voice kneaded by the sleep that is about to win her.

-Which one?- Luke asks, his arms numb, but he wouldn't move for any reason. Even if the world was ending or imploding on itself. Never.

On the back of his dog, in full rem, he snores another ball of black fur.

-Happiness.-

 ...and remember you, remember me, all this courage isn’t snow

 The last coherent thought of Luke before Morpheus also takes prisoner him. Yes, the last night in the world I would spend it with you...