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Penelope Garcia knows your password. (all_knowing) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-09-08 01:40:00

Who: Garcia and Irene.
What: Coffee shop chatting.
When: Friday afternoon, 9/6.
Where: Random Starbucks!
Rating: PG-13!
Status: Complete!



Irene had to get out of the office. It made her brain hurt to stay in too long. Especially when the coffeepot was broken.

She’d set up shop at the coffee chain around the block, in a corner, so hopefully nobody would notice the autopsy photos on her laptop. But at least she had semi-decent java. If someone asked or complained, she’d be able to deal with them without resorting to swear words.

Garcia had been sitting down, minding her own business, but it was hard not to look at other people’s monitors. Old, bad habits died the hardest. But this one made her think twice, and she winced to herself after she caught sight of autopsy photos. “Please tell me you’re with law enforcement,” she winced.

Irene blinked, hearing a wince, but it wasn’t followed by a scream. “I’m a coroner,” she said, without looking up for a moment. “And my coffee pot is broken. Would you be able to look at this without coffee?”

“At least you’re a coroner and not some weirdo hacking into the coroner’s office.” Garcia nodded her head, looking away. “And no. I can’t even get dressed without coffee, this is like, my fifth cup today.”

“I don’t know how to hack, though I’ve thought it might be useful.” Irene managed a smile. “I had two cups and then the percolator refused to perk. That’s like, crisis level five for us.” She minimized her work, having looked at what she needed anyway. “I just have reports to finish, and they’re not gonna write themselves, but I can’t be scholarly without caffeine.”

“Oh, it’s fantastically convenient.” Garcia grinned to herself. “Don’t know where the boyfriend is? Hack his GPS. Want your pizza faster? Send a text to the driver. ... they get creeped out by that, though, so be prepared to switch pizza chains for a while.”

That did get Irene’s attention. She looked up, amused. “I’m guessing you’ve got some computer skills, then.”

“A couple,” Garcia quipped. “But just the two.”

“Just the two?” Irene chuckled. She gestured to the seat opposite her. “I’m Irene.”

“Oh, I’m trying to be humble. I’m Penelope.” Garcia sat down, then offered the stunning woman her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for not having too much of a shit fit about my work. It’s like I said. Coffee is life.” Irene shrugged. “I should bring my French press from home, but I don’t trust my colleagues not to steal it.”

“It’s not a big deal, you have to do your job, right?” She smiled brightly, crossing her legs and sipping her mocha. “Do you like it?”

“My job? It’s the greatest thing ever.” Irene said. “It’s a never-ending puzzle. And it sounds cliche, but I help people. I tell them how it happened, I give the families closure. I really like it.”

Garcia smiled. “That sounds like my dreams, I work for the FBI there.” Garcia took a generous swig of mocha. “That’s rewarding in my dreams. Not that I don’t love my job here, I totally do.”

“FBI?” Irene echoed. “Are you an agent? Must be interesting.” She wouldn’t have guessed that this matronly-looking woman would be out in the field.

“Oh, no, I’m the tech support. They find a random photo ID, I find out everything about that person before they can even think to want it. They need the CIA hacked, I do it. Medical records? I’ve got it.” She did similar things at Stark, only for companies that hired her to do it.

“I guess that would make sense, with what you said you like to do.” Irene smiled a little. “To be honest, I wondered about you being out in the field. You don’t really seem like you’d have the temperament, and that isn’t an insult. Field agents or beat cops or whichever people in your agency that are out on the ground? Sick senses of humor.”

“Oh, they totally do. And I can do that too, as long as I don’t have to see the gore and the sadness.” Garcia shook her head. “I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I can help the fighters with their tools. I’m the blacksmith of this adventure.”

“I like that metaphor.” Irene smiled. “I’m like ... the wizard or something. I give the information about the gore. I try to make sense of it. And I’m not saying I don’t have a sick sense of humor too, but it’s not quite the same.”

Garcia nodded. “That makes sense. Just ... from what I can see from the dreams, it’s all about finding out what horrible thing someone did to someone else. It’s exhausting.” She sighed a little, quietly worrying the straw to her drink.

“It can be if you let it be.” Irene shrugged. “I don’t get tired of it, but that’s mostly, I think, because I’m alone with my cadavers. Usually only one person might come in and ask me stupid questions, and I can usually ignore him.”

“Yeah, that’s not so bad. Even in my dreams I have my own office. And god help anyone there or here if they touch my setup. Yes, I need all six monitors, otherwise I wouldn’t have them.” Garcia folded her arms, miming upset.

“Ugh.” Irene made a face. “That’s like Harry storing yoghurt in my fridge. I keep fluid samples in there.”
Garcia flailed. “Who? What? Ugh!”

“Harry McGlade. He’s a PI. Loves to come and bother me. One day I saw a big container of yoghurt on the shelf above my fluid samples.” Irene sighed. “I yell at him a lot.”

“In a cute sort of His Girl Friday way? Or in a way where you actually hate him?” Garcia waggled her eyebrows.

“I don’t hate him, but he’s a huge pain in the ass.” Irene rolled her eyes. “He’s a pig.”

Garcia raised a brow, then grinned. “Do you kind of like him?”

“I tolerate him.” Irene laughed. “There’s a difference.”

“But I noticed some sexual tension there, right in the lines around your eyes.” Garcia gestured.

Irene raised an eyebrow. “How’s that?” She wasn’t sure what the woman meant, but she knew she didn’t exactly have sexual tension with Harry McGlade.

“I’m just teasing you.” Garcia smiled, reaching out to pat Irene’s hand. But if she’d continued, she’d have mentioned something about protesting too much.

“I’m mostly curious as to how you can read sexual tension in my eye lines. I just read fatigue.” Irene chuckled. She wasn’t trying to be judgmental or anything; it was just an interesting choice of words.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous, your eye lines are even pretty. You could model, you know.” Garcia rolled her eyes, grinning happily.

“You’re sweet. I wish I had a boyfriend to tell me that, no offense.” Irene chuckled. “You’ve got skin to kill for. Were you just born lucky, Penelope?” She’d bet yes. Her skin was so smooth that usually even products couldn’t do that.

“That, and Smashbox primer.” Garcia blushed a little, not used to being complimented. “It’s so weird, my boyfriend says that too, and I’m all - I don’t know, I’m not used to compliments.”

“Well, listen to him.” Irene kidded. “All joking aside, it’s nice you’ve got someone who thinks of you like that. I hope he’s hot.” She generally approved of other women having hot boyfriends. She tried not to be nasty.

Garcia blushed. “I actually met him in a coffee shop. I work full time for Stark Industries, but I offered to work for Sebastian just ‘cause he’s ... perfect.”

“You wanted to work for him just because he’s hot?” Irene laughed. “He must be perfect.”

Garcia brought up a photo of him on her phone, then handed it over. “Scottish lord, bonafide geek, and absolutely attentive in bed. I think in a former life I saved a bunch of kids from a burning orphanage.”

“Holy shit.” Irene stared. “What the hell’s he doing in the States?” Why wasn’t he out being romance novel-ly with half of the UK?

“Helping out with his father’s company.” The jealous, paranoid part of Garcia immediately thought that Irene was never allowed to meet Sebastian. But that was quickly squelched. He said he liked her, so she had to trust that.

“Whatever you did in a past life, you are totally being richly rewarded.” She couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit jealous herself; she helped people, dammit. Where was her gorgeous Scottish lord?

“Right?” Garcia shook her head. “I’m so paranoid, though, I’m going to shoot myself in the foot. But he can do so much better, I keep waiting for him to realize it.”

"He doesn't want 'better,'" Irene pointed out. Evidently, at least. "He wants you."

“I know. I just have to trust him, right?” Penelope’s cheeks went pink, and she worried her napkin between her fingers.

“You do.” Irene smiled. “It’s kind of important.” Though she wasn’t about to offer much other advice; she hadn’t had a boyfriend since med school.

“I’m just kind of an idiot. Not super great with guys,” Garcia chuckled. “I tend to be single.” She knew she wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and usually that was okay with her.

“Well, now you aren’t, so I expect you to revel in it.” Irene mock ordered, hoping this woman smiled.

“Oh, I am. I could show you the rugburn if you wanted, but I don’t think you want me to take my top off in Starbucks.” Garcia winked slyly.

“Nice!” Irene laughed. “Kinda jealous.”

“I would be too if I weren’t me.” Sometimes Garcia worried about being a braggart.

“And all I’ve got is this PI who flirts with my boobs instead of looking me in the eye.” Irene chuckled, but her phone went off at that point. “Shit. Hang on.” She picked it up and checked out the text. “Dammit. I gotta go. Apparently we just got a new one rolled in.”
“Ugh, I’d say have fun, but maybe I’ll just say enjoy yourself professionally?” Garcia shook her head, smiling a little. “Hey, let’s hang out sometime.” Taking her phone, Garcia quickly beamed her own number over to Irene’s. Hacker tricks.

Irene saw the text appear, but she knew she hadn’t given the other woman her number. “Crazy.” And it would have been creepy if she hadn’t talked to this woman first. There was no way this Penelope would ever use her talents for ill. You could just tell. “But yeah, let’s. Get a drink sometime.”

“Perfect!” Garcia grinned, the crinkles around her eyes deepening in a way that made her look as happy as possible. “I’ll get first round.”

“Works for me.” Irene finished gathering her notes and closed her computer. “It was nice to meet you ... and I’ll try to be more careful about who can see the autopsy photos on my computer.”