Penelope Garcia x (trans ! ftm) Luke Alvez
aka, how they got together (in Luke’s point of view)
warning: gender dysphoria, (brief mention of) transphobia
He cuts his hair for the first time with kitchen scissors when he’s eleven.
There’s something wrong with him, he concludes weeks before when his mother sat him down and told him about puberty, about the changes his body would go through.
Only—he didn’t want to go through these changes.
A nauseous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he realized that the thought of puberty, of the things his body would soon go through, unsettled him and, not only that, but...it scared him.
Scared him like when his father shouted at the top of his lungs at his mother when they argued.
Scared him like the time he snuck one of his cousin’s toy cars to his own house to play with it in the secret of his room.
Scared him like the time that he asked for a lightsaber for Christmas only to get his mother’s intimidating stare in response.
He didn’t have a word for his feelings beside scared, didn’t have a word for the reasoning behind his disgust for his body.
That was until...him, Matthew—his new next door neighbor with his shaggy brown hair and built form.
His parents wrote off his admiration for the new neighbor as a crush, teasing him and prodding him every time his wide, awe-filled eyes trailed after Matthew.
It wasn’t long before he realized that he didn’t have a crush on Matthew...no—he wanted to be like Matthew.
He wanted short hair and a built form and a confident swagger.
He wanted to wear khaki pants and button down shirts, along with black dress shoes and a chain around his belt loops.
He wanted a deep voice and scruffy facial hair.
His fingers ran carefully through his long hair, his other hand gripping the scissors he had sneaked out of the kitchen.
It’s 12am in the morning and he’s alone in the bathroom, staring in the mirror hopelessly at the person inside.
Tears ran down his face as he carefully bought the scissors up to his hair, his eyes tightening closed once a strand of hair is placed inside.
The cut piece of hair falls on his shoulder and he resists the urge to tremble, eyes opening as he gathered more hair between the blades.
Slowly, his hair creates its own pile on the cold bathroom tile under his feet.
At the end, his hair is short and terribly uneven, but, for once, his head feels light.
Tears gather in his eyes as he places down the scissors, his hands gripping both sides of the sink as he stared at his reflection.
“Luke,” he whispers softly, the name he always wished he had when he learned that he would have been named that if born a boy, “my name is Luke.”
Luke allows a single tear to run down his face before he leaves the bathroom to go back to bed.
He climbs in and ignores the pink walls and dolls scattered around the room, and allows the silence of a sleeping house to lure him to sleep.
(He can’t find it in himself to regret his choice when met with his mother’s intimidating stare and his father’s loud, angry shouting at the sight of him the next day.
He’s never felt more free.)
He gets his first binder at the age of fourteen, a gift from his older sister for his birthday.
She practically has to pry him away from the mirror when he first tries it on and can only proceed to stand there, running a lightly trembling hand over his newly flattened chest.
She’s the one that reminds him to take breaks from wearing it, the words “little brother” leaving her mouth affectionately and part scolding when she does so and he almost cries.
He doesn’t think he has any tears to waste anymore after crying over his father’s refusal to respect his identity and his mother’s judging state that would follow him, silently disapproving of every choice he makes.
He starts Testosterone when he’s seventeen after years of therapy.
The first shot hurts but he doesn’t flinch.
He’s been waiting for this moment his entire life, even if he didn’t know it at one point.
Besides, before long he’s used to the shots and is instead left to beam in delight as he notices the changes his body goes through due to it.
His voice deepens, his body hair thickens, and he even begins to gain facial hair.
He’s happy, he realizes one day as he gets ready for the day, toothbrush stuck in mouth as he pauses in front of the bathroom mirror.
By the time he joins the BAU, he’s older and a bit wiser.
His name is legally changed to Luke and his gender is accompanied by a little M on his legal paperwork.
For all intents and purposes, he passes with his (permanent) flat chest from top surgery years before and the years he has been on testosterone.
He smiles and beams and jokes around.
His sister jokes that he’s a lady killer, charming and flirting; yet, Luke doesn’t really allow himself to get close to anyone romantically.
At the end of the night, he goes home to Roxy and that’s enough for him...until he meets her.
Technical analyst for the BAU.
A woman who sassily comments to Luke upon the second time meeting him that she has an amazing boyfriend and Luke ignores the pain in his chest at the thought of the beautiful woman in front of him being taken as he instead smiles, doing what he does best next—continues to be charming (as his sister would say) and attempts to make a conversation only to get shut down.
He tries to pretend that he doesn’t care about her cold and distant attitude.
He pretends that it doesn’t hurt with how she treats him differently than everyone else, but not in the way he wants.
He smiles despite how much Garcia’s actions hurt and he ignores the fact that a tiny voice in the back of his head nags that she knows, that she’s treating him like this because he’s trans.
It’s nothing personal, he reminds himself, recognizing a hurt individual when seeing one, but hell if he doesn’t feel like it is.
“Come on, newbie,” Garcia drawled as she sipped slowly on her drink, eyebrow raised playfully as she teased him, “what’s your secret? We all have one.”
Luke laughed, taking a small sip from his beer before answering, wide smile spreading to his face as he teased back, “wouldn’t be a secret then, would it?”
It was his first time having a drink with the team and his mood brightened when they all laughed at his response to Garcia’s teasing.
Luke relaxed, untensing his shoulders at the teasing, not realizing how tense he was until then.
At the thought, his eyes shot to Garcia as Rossi dived into a story, his eyes meeting hers for a split second before looking away quickly.
He turned towards Rossi, but watched Garcia out of the corner of his eye.
Did she say that on purpose because she noticed how tense he was?
He shook his head as soon as the thought passed through his mind.
This was Penelope Garcia and to her, Luke is just an annoying coworker and not a friend.
“Do you hate me?” He whispers one day in Garcia’s vicinity, so quiet that he’s sure that she doesn’t hear him.
They’re alone in her lair, and once again he allows her coldness to get to him despite vowing to himself not too.
Her head shoots up, her eyes meeting his.
He can’t recognize the look in her eyes.
He stands straight, hands stuffed in his pocket.
“I don’t hate you,” she admits at last, blinking rapidly and her face looking almost...offended?
“Yeah, I figured, but you know,” he flashed her a small grin and gave a little shrug of his shoulders, his body relaxing at how genuine she looked to be.
Her eyes bored into his for a few more seconds before she hastily looked away and to her monitor.
“I don’t hate you Alvez...far from it,” she admits at last, quietly.
Garcia groaned playfully, “stop smirking, Newbie.”
Luke laughed, dodging her slapping hand as he practically rushed out of the room.
Outside the door after shutting it behind him, he pauses, chest heaving and smiling growing wider.
Garcia...Penelope...is leaving.
Leaving the BAU, the team, everyone...including him.
There’s always a silver lining though.
This silver lining came in the form of Emily Prentiss, casually reminding him that Garcia would never date a coworker.
His heart seems to pause when he realizes that they’re no longer coworkers.
They’re no longer coworkers.
He steeled himself, standing up straight and remembering everything he has ever been through.
He catches Garcia’s eyes from across the yard and he smiles.
He asks her out for dinner, and she says yes.
He goes home excited, whooping out loud once in the safety of his apartment, fist pumping in the air.
Roxy jumps excitedly at his enthusiasm and the sight of him, and he laughs.
“Guess what girl? Dad has a date.”
He’s afraid that his face will soon hurt with how much he’s grinning but he doesn’t care.
He has a date...with Penelope Garcia.
He wears his best button down shirt paired with dress pants, and carefully he loops his belt through and places on his tennis shoes.
Before he leaves his apartment to pick her up, he wipes his sweaty hands on his pant’s legs.
Penelope Garcia is a vision.
She’s always a vision, Luke concludes, but even more so today now that he’s seeing her through the view of a date rather than a coworker or friend.
Luke nervously smiles, hands pushing the flowers in his hand towards her.
“Why thank you kind sir,” Penelope grins, gently taking them and invites him inside.
He watches as she places the flowers in a vase and he chooses then to speak, “you look beautiful” and she did.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Newbie,” she shot back, “so where are we going?”
The air outside the restaurant is cold.
“So, that was pretty amazing,” Luke teased as him and Penelope slowly walked to his car and he opened the door for her.
Penelope grinned, “it wasn’t bad.”
Luke laughed, “bad? glad to know that me spilling water on my shirt amuses you.”
“I mean, it did,” Penelope giggled, avoiding Luke’s playful glare.
“Woah, nice to know my humiliation amuses you, chica,” Luke moaned dramatically as he cranked up the engine, smiling widening when Penelope’s laugh grew in volume.
Without even thinking, his right hand shot out to lay on top of Penelope’s own on the armrest, causing her to freeze, laughs abruptly stopping.
“I had a really great time tonight,” Luke admitted softly, grinning.
Penelope paused before admitting just as softly, “me too.”
Luke slowly leaned across the middle console and Penelope did the same, hearts thudding as they slowly grew closer and closer before pausing, faces centimeters away.
“Yeah,” Penelope breathed out.
“Yeah?” Luke asked, smiling.
Penelope nodded her head, “yeah” before her lips crashed again his, all other thoughts but those of Penelope Garcia leaving his head.
“I need to tell you something,” Luke admitted after their third date, this one being in Penelope’s apartment and involving a movie and popcorn.
Penelope turned her body towards his, giving him her full attention.
“I’m—” he trails off, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out how to word everything correctly.
Penelope’s hands took hold of his, squeezing them softly and Luke shakingly exhaled.
“I’m trans, Penelope,” he admits quietly, stomach dropping and his breath catching in his throat as he awaits her answer.
Penelope’s brows furrowed, “as in a transwoman or a transman.”
“Transman,” he admits, “that’s why I don’t really talk to my family beside my sister and her husband and kids. My parents didn’t take it too well.”
Penelope’s hands tightened around his.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Penelope told him at last, grinning softly.
Luke grinned back hestitantly, “you’re okay with it?”
Penelope sighed, mock offense due to him asking her this written across her face, “I love you, Luke Alvez, no matter your identity or pronouns or anything else...even if your ego is too big.” Her voice playful as she eased his concerns.
“Good,” Luke joked back, relief settling in his chest, “because I’m bisexual too...wait,” he blinked in shock, mouth falling open a little as he registered what she said, “you love me?”
“I love you too, Penelope Garcia,” a wide smile splitting his face.
Penelope sighed, “you better, Newbie. I’m a catch.”
He dodged her playful slap and sprinted across the room, laughter from both of them filling the air as she chased after him.
