#weight issues

Penelope knew that she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world, hell she wasn’t the prettiest girl in this damn bar but she sure knew she made up for it in other areas. She was funny, kind, caring, considerate and the list could definitely go on, but she wasn’t pretty and that was something she had come to terms with a long time ago. She knew it wasn’t a personal thing either, everyone decided that fat girls just weren’t pretty and who was she to argue? Besides even if she was the skinniest person alive every other woman would still be prettier than her because hello??? Have you seen every damn woman that wasn’t Penelope Garcia? 

At least that’s how she used to feel before years of therapy and positive reinforcement allowed herself to believe she was worth just as much as the women around her. Obviously, therapy wasn’t a cure all and she still had days where she felt as though no one would ever find her pretty or enough for them, or she would be ‘too much’ for them and she felt like she would never find love, but they happened a lot less and when they did, she knew how to deal with them. 

But now, in a dingy and honestly kind of sticky bar where she was surrounded by her co-workers she felt like some kind of goblin. It’s not that they ever did anything to make her feel that way, she just couldn’t help comparing herself to Elle or JJ and in just thinking that she wishes her body was more like theirs she knows she’s set herself back at least three therapy sessions.  

Despite her usual boisterous nature, she was reserved now, all of the confidence leaving her body when she imagines what the strangers at the bar were thinking of her, when she imagines what the bartender saw when they look at Penelope. This wasn’t entirely in her head either, multiple times that night she’d seen the smile drop off the faces of attractive people just because they had seen her, a group of men even snickering when she had the audacity to smile and wave at them. 

She thought she was being subtle, that her mood change would go unnoticed by her friends but it in fact it did not. Damn she hates profilers. Within five minutes of her forcing herself to rein in her personality Morgan was leaning in to her side, asking quietly “what's the matter baby girl? Have you drunk too much?” he was clearly trying to keep the question light – and in fairness to Morgan she had puked on numerous team nights out, the query was legitimate – but she could read the concern in his eyes too. 

“yeah I'm fine, just gotta let someone else speak, ya know?” she asks with a self-deprecating laugh, taking a large gulp of her espresso martini. When she got a look from Derek in response she just gives him her most convincing fake smile and says “seriously, I'm fine. Even I've got to recharge every once in a while”.  

The muscular man left it at that, knowing not to push Penelope. Though she couldn’t help but notice that her eyes met Spencer’s more often than they normally would. The subject was dropped and just five minutes later Penelope was back to her normal self, the life of the party, because it was easier than being asked questions right now. She kind of wish Derek had pushed though.  

Penelope was no stranger to staring, to yearning even, which is why she found it strange that Spencer’s eyes kept on making contact with hers. She was a classic romantic, someone who believed in love and soulmates and all that super sappy romantic stuff. When she was in third grade and discovered musical theatre for the first time it had been as though her world was turned upside down, love ballads ringing through her house, at the behest of her brothers. Her love of theatre culminated in her playing Tracy Turnblad at age fifteen in a local theatre, ‘I Can Hear the Bells’ becoming the theme tune of her love life. 

 She definitely knew how to pine, it was essential for yearning and if there was one thing she was born to do it was pine. From an early age she’d learned how to sneak glances, how to ‘accidentally’ brush hands with someone, how fall completely and hopelessly for someone who would never like her back, not romantically at least. And she didn’t need anyone to tell her that Spencer would never like her back romantically, that was why she started to feel nauseous when she noticed that he kept on glancing back at her, something unreadable etched into his gorgeous features. The nauseous feeling worsened when she, Spencer and Derek were the last three left at the bar. 

The team would all always get drinks after especially emotional cases, whether they were soul destroying or unambiguous wins, and luckily for them this case had been a win. No matter the reason for the drink the order that they would leave would always remain the same, Hotch first so that he wouldn’t be drunk when she saw Jack, Spencer next since he didn’t drink much and being surrounded by so many stimuli put him on edge. Rossi would leave next as he wasn’t as young as he used to be and at a certain point in the evening liked to retire to his mansion and drink alone, so it was only the girls and Derek left. JJ would get herself and Emily a lift with Will to their house, Emily normally crashing as she’d be too drunk to drive, and Morgan would drive himself and Penelope back, always insisting as he didn’t like the women getting taxis when they were drunk.  

Tonight was different. 

Hotch still left at his normal time but Rossi didn’t come at all, saying he had a date, and JJ was pregnant so she and Emily left early since Emily didn’t want her walking home alone. That left Derek, Spencer and Penelope in the bar, the time growing closer to ten and the stress of the day was clear on Derek’s face. “I can drive Penelope home, man. You look exhausted”. Penelope couldn’t help but note this was strange too, Spencer absolutely hated driving. 

Derek clearly knew this too because he quickly started to protest “Kid, there’s no way I’m letting you get behind the wheel with my precious baby girl” he tries to joke but the effect was undercut with a well timed yawn. His fingers tapping nervously on their secluded table, Spencer continues to insist “did you know that a study has estimated that around 17.6% of all car crashes are caused by fatigued drivers, and that you are three times more- “ 

Morgan stood up before Spencer could finish his factoid, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table for a tip, wrapping an arm around Penelope’s shoulders and kissing her hair gently “I’m sorry baby girl, if I have to hear one more fact from Reid I might actually fall asleep” Derek tells the tech analyst causing her to giggle, neglecting to mention that she loved the nerdy rambles and geeky tangents, it was one of the things that endeared her so much towards him.  

They all said their goodbyes and finally Spencer and Penelope were alone, feeling miles apart at their round table that once held seven people. Derek had bought it when she had put her happy go lucky façade back on a few drinks ago, but she wasn’t sure that Spencer had, especially with the way he’d been looking at her all evening. 

Why was this so awkward? They hung out literally all the time. They worked together but after work they would often watch tv so Penelope could introduce Spencer to popular sci-fi fiction, and so he could show her the best documentaries on things which actually interested her. They had a book club – in which Penelope banned him from doing his crazy fast reading, stating that it wasn’t in the spirit of a book club – where once again Penelope introduced him to popular fiction books and Spencer chose lots of non fiction and technical books. Penelope often gave her earbud to Spencer so they could listen to music on their morning commute to work, both using the bus to be more ecologically friendly, and she would let Spencer play classical music on her speaker when he was at hers for wine and jigsaw nights. 

All of that was to say Penelope was stumped as to what to fucking talk about, not having ever expected to be alone with him like this. She was beyond grateful, that meant maybe she hadn’t been making up those looks, that he’d been trying to catch her eye all evening, that he had been subtly trying to play footsie with her under the table and then looking away nervously as though he was scared she’d called him out on it. If anything, she’d say he was trying to flirt with her, but that couldn’t be true because she’d been flirting with the genius for months to no avail, he just wasn’t interested in her and she’d come to accept that, or at least she was trying to. 

Subtle touches here, cheek kisses there and a whole lot of teasing had been directed at Spencer. It wasn’t that she was too scared to admit her feelings for her coworker, it’s just that she wanted to be treated like a princess and have the guy ask her out for once and for it not to be a joke. It was definitely not because she was a coward and Penelope was fed up of people – and by that she meant JJ and Emily, insisting otherwise. But if Penelope assumed her friends were right, could she be blamed? Spencer was so intelligent, unthinkingly kind, brave and everything Penelope had ever wanted in a man, not to mention he was tall, dark and handsome.  

She had fallen for him in the small moments, them playing card games while waiting for a case, when he called her for tech support on the simplest things because he just couldn’t work it out, when he started picking up two orders of coffee when he realised their bus went on the same route. Sure, she really enjoyed when he did his super cool genius detective schtick but she enjoyed it more when he was human, when he showed just how much he cared. She’d not been private about that fact, complimenting the doctor any chance she got, leaving little motivational notes on his desk along with little trinkets and Calico Critters and even silently mending his books if she noticed any were damaged in his flat. Penelope like liked him it felt as natural to her as breathing, even if the idea of outright telling him made her oesophagus constrict. 

Having the tact of a reversing dump truck without any tyres, Spencer bluntly states “I'm sorry those men laughed at you. You look absolutely gorgeous and they clearly have a collective brain the size of a pea. Though did you know it’s a common misconception that-”. Penelope had stopped listening, the feeling of mortification crawling through her veins. She couldn’t believe that Spencer had seen that, she couldn’t believe she’d deluded herself into thinking he may have finally been catching on to her advances. 

 God she was an idiot sometimes. She looks blankly to Spencer when he stops talking, not really sure how to respond to him so she kind of just stares at him for the millionth time in her life before sighing “It’s okay, it’s not like I'm not used to it, guys never know how to appreciate a gift” she winks, trying to put on her previous bravado, but she knew it wasn’t fooling either of them. 

It hurt her, of course it did, it was never easy when people found your mere existence amusing, but it was something she was used to. She didn’t see the need to talk about it anymore, finding any discussions frustrating or upsetting because other people didn’t seem to ever understand.  

“They truly don’t. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” Spencer says, his voice a low murmur as though these words were special, for Penelope’s ears only “if they can’t look past their fatphobic and misogynistic perspectives to see that then their opinion is not one worth listening to”. As if he really wanted to drive his point home, Spencer rests his hand on Penelope’s and squeezes it gently. 

A half-hearted smile is all she manages despite her heart racing at speeds that ought to cease it from working altogether, the simple touch sending her into a frenzy. Or maybe it was the alcohol, it was easier for her emotions if she could just blame it on the alcohol. “I know you mean well Spence, but they’re the kind of people I have to deal with if I want to put myself out there. I’m not going to meet anyone in our line of work, they’re all perverts and psychos, and I'm always locked in my computer room”. 

Spencer’s head tips slightly to the side, fingers toying with the fabric of his trousers as he seems to consider this point – though he didn’t agree, in his opinion she could get any person in that FBI building if she tried – but before he could comment Penelope adds “and I am not ugly but I am far from pretty.” 

There was a long silence after that statement, Spencer’s face a schooled neutral expression as the two maintain eye contact, Penelope too stubborn to take back the statement. She thought it was true so why should she take it back anyway, she didn’t like it when people flip flopped on their statements. Sliding his water over to Penelope, he says “I think you need to drink some water because you’ve clearly drunk too much, that’s the only reason someone as intelligent as you would believe something so blatantly untrue”. Spencer’s statement was one that left no room for argument, so confused she could ever believe that she was anything less than stunning. 

The glass slides back to its original space almost immediately, the older woman returning Spencer’s attitude, though not his gaze. “come on, I'm not being self-deprecating or whatever, I'm just being honest. Fat girls don’t get to be pretty; they get to be intelligent and funny and good huggers. They don’t get to be pretty”.  

It was good that Penelope wasn’t looking at her crush because it was likely that she may have started crying, the need to cry doubling when Spencer put his hand back next to him. She must’ve had more to drink that she’d thought. 

The four seconds for which Spencer was silent felt to Penelope like they dragged on for minutes, enough time for her to repeatedly curse every decision she’d made that day which led to this conversation. “I’m not naive, I know that weight does change people’s perception of you and it makes it harder for you to fit into typical societal beauty standards” were the words that Spencer settled upon, or at least some of them because he was unable to finish his sentence. 

Penelope’s mouth had always worked faster than her brain, so she interjected “see, I told you, I'm not pretty” before Spencer could properly finish her point, assuming that meant he agreed with them. Besides, she knew he couldn’t find her attractive anyway, she looked nothing like those he had openly fawned over before. Well, not quite openly, he just didn’t have as good a poker face as he liked to think. His type was dark haired, tall and slightly muscled, and she was none of those things. 

The water was back next to her arm now, so Penelope finally looked up to the man she had grown to adore, thrown back when she doesn’t find frustration on his face, but rather sympathy and patience.  

"That is not what I said at all, Penelope. I think that you’re more than pretty,” his voice was low again, unsure of how to broach this subject without completely exposing his feelings for her “I think that you’re absolutely stunning. I don’t think you’re beautiful in spite or because of your weight, it’s just part of you.” 

The air feels like it leaves Penelope’s lungs. Never before, even with her ex-partners, did anyone ever treat her weight like it was neutral, like it was the same thing as having blonde hair or green eyes “you’re just saying that because I'm your friend” she says, knowing she was probably being difficult now, though she could really use the reassurance. As if reading her mind, Spencer’s hand rests on hers for the second time that evening. 

Another record was broken when Spencer’s other hand, slightly shaking since he’d never done something like this before, cupped Penelope’s chin, encouraging her to look at him, to really believe him. Penelope may have even laughed at how touchy Spencer was being if his touch didn’t leave her breathless. 

“When have you ever known me to say something I don’t believe? Your weight doesn’t change your cute button nose, your...” he pauses for a moment before deciding that he would expose his crush a million times over, make an ass out of himself if it meant that she would believe him “your kissable lips, the intricate hairstyles that you can do that frame your face perfectly...I could list one hundred things that make you gorgeous, but I fear I'd make you uncomfortable” 

The smile that graced Penelope’s lips this time was genuine, finding herself lost in Spencer, the smell of his cologne. It was almost too much for her, she uses her free hand to remove the one from her chin and say  

“you’re right, I am pretty perfect, it’s not my fault most people are cowards and can’t handle all of me” she adds a wink at the end, some of the tension between them being relieved. She loved his smile that greeted her back. 

Penelope couldn’t let him off too easily, his cheeks still flushed red from talking about her ‘kissable lips’, his hands fidgeting with a nearby coaster as he tried to mentally ward off any comments about it.  

“Hey, if you think I'm so gorgeous and so loveable, why don’t you list the other ninety-seven things that you think make me that way?” her own vulnerability with him had proved worth it when he turned an even deeper shade of red, one Penelope wouldn’t have believed was possible. 

The blush was accompanied by various flustered throat noises courtesy of the man in question, sipping some water to calm himself down. It was one comment and the fact that she could affect him this much made Spencer feel that he really needed to get a grip.“trust me you don’t actually want me to do that...” It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself any further. 

After helping talk her down from the edge of a mental breakdown, Penelope thought that he deserved a moment of reprieve, so rather than continue to tease him she squeezes both of his hands which miraculously had stayed in hers “hey Spence... thank you”.  

The tension was completely gone and the two were back to normal, or normal with hand holding – a development both were absolutely ecstatic about though they were yet to admit it to the other.  

And, of course Penelope wasn’t magically fixed, a boy finding her beautiful didn’t erase the decades of bullying, judgement and ridicule but it did make her feel invincible in that moment. In fact, she felt like she could do anything if it meant that Spencer would give her that warm smile he saved for those private moments. 

With her final drink almost finished, Penelope leans into him slightly “there’s this really cool Doctor Who convention coming in to town in a few months, did you want to come with me?” she offers, not expecting to be hit softly in the shoulder in response, Spencer practically vibrating in his seat in response” 

“Is The Doctor from Gallifrey? Of course I want to go!” the smile on Spencer’s face was infectious, it spreading to the older woman’s face in a matter of mere seconds. “We need to talk logistics, plans, itinerary-” he rambles. He wasn’t able to finish the thought because Penelope’s melodic laughter stopped him, though he wasn’t sure why. 

At the confused look on Spencer’s face, a look she had grown fond of from teaching him what was happening in pop culture, Penelope explains “costumes, we need to decide costumes before anything else. They take ages to make and they can be expensive”. She pulls her hands back then as she taps her fingers on the table in thought. 

Spencer’s heart palpitates when he sees how excited she is, absolutely adoring every second that she allowed her nerdy side to show through, not that she hid it often if at all. Regardless of how often he sees it, he still feels as though it’s the first time, he feels breathless and giddy, like a damn school boy who found out his crush likes the same books as him.  

He just thinks she’s so damn cool, and he can’t believe they’re friends. “Well, I don’t think we should do villains or antagonists. I mean, imagine carrying a Dalek’s shell all day” he says, thinking of the practical side of the costume rather than who he wanted to be.  

Penelope starts to fidget with the end of her braid, something she did either when she was deep in thought. Being left with the humanoid characters meant that they still had quite a few options but not as many as before, though one idea had been rattling around since she had bought up the convention.  

This was her chance to put the idea of romance in to Spencer’s mind. Penelope had accepted he wouldn’t respond to her flirting, but perhaps if they were pretending to be people so deeply in love he would like her too. She believed the phenomenon was called transference.  

“Why don’t you be Ten and I be Rose?” she suggests, her fingers ceasing their drumming when she notices the way Spencer just stares at her. Mouth open and fingers also stilling their movements in the fold of his trousers, the need for physical stimuli completely forgotten. 

She wanted to scream and bang her head into a wall when Spencer finally asks “are you flirting with me?”. It was so stupid, so ridiculous and so damn on brand that the man she had been crushing on for months now finally realised she had feelings for him over suggesting a couple's costume rather than the very obvious flirting she had been doing with him. Rather than cause physical injury she just started laughing, continuing to laugh even as Spencer asks if she’s okay, fear and embarrassment in his voice. 

Realising that he’d taken the laughter for rejection, Penelope says “I've been flirting with you for around seven months, thank you for noticing”. She couldn’t stop the laughter from starting again as the best way she could describe the look on Spencer’s was one of constipation, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips squished almost completely together. “Honey, I don’t make playlists for just anyone... you’re... I like you a lot” she gives him a sincere smile once her laughter died down 

Spencer was giving her a bashful smile in return, so immensely relieved that she wasn’t turning him down he almost didn’t process what she said. Almost. “... how could I not have realised? I'm a profiler and I've liked you for a long time. I was looking for signs and I still missed them” he admits, though he couldn’t be embarrassed for long, he would do anything if it meant being the cause of Penelope’s laughter. 

She rests a hand on his knee then, kissing his cheek as an attempt at comforting him, though she was still giggling. She couldn’t stop “awwww you have a crush on me, that’s so cute” she teases, bumping her shoulder against his.  

Rather than allow her to rile him up, to make him blush more than he already was – if that was even possible – Spencer asks her “it must’ve been really frustrating waiting for me to realise your feelings, how about I make it up to you? Why don’t I take you on a date tomorrow night?”. He knew that was really close but he couldn’t hold back his excitement, a trait that endeared Penelope to him more than she could express. 

With a deep, shaky sigh, Lieutenant stepped off the device. She couldn't look at herself in the mirror, knowing she would have to acknowledge her emotions if she did. The lights were already off, but even the distant street lights were out to get her.

The patrol had gone far too late, she needed rest. Lieutenant pulled her blanket over her shoulders, hiding under the quilted blocks. She silently hoped nobody would see her as she went to her room, especially not Medic.

She'd been avoiding him for almost two weeks, desprate to keep her condition secret. He would tell Leader and they would surely make her stop working. She couldn't abandon them for her health, she would figure it out soon.

"Lieutenant?"

She whipped around, eyes flashing in panic. She saw Sidekick, their teen intern, leaning on a counter in their dining room. He had a candy bag in his hand, obviously getting a midnight snack.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Sir. I couldn't make out who it was, and I—" he paused, a thick, heavy pause, "-Are you sure you're feeling alright, Lieutenant Sir?"

She considered her young coworker, with his rubber-duck patterned pajama pants and graphic tee, "Yeah, I'm feeling alright, Sidekick," she smiled the best she could, knowing it looked forced, "just a bit tired."

He nodded, "Have a good night, Sir."

"Thank you."

Lieutenant stumbled back to her bedroom. She collapsed on her bed, only moving to plug in her phone. She fell asleep almost immediately, still in the under layers of her work clothes.

-

"...nant. Hey, Lieutenant, can you wake up for me?" Leader's voice broke through the fog of sleep, soft yet urgent.

She opened her eyes, squinting in the mid-day light streaming through her window. As her eyes dilated, she could make out two figures in her room.

Leader, who was knelt beside the bed, hand on her shoulder, eyes glowing in concern. They had clearly just returned from their patrol, still in full uniform, sunglasses pushing back their unruly brown curls.

And Sidekick, who was nervously fidgeting with the strings of his sweatshirt, keeping a respectful distance and diverting his gaze when she caught it. He was clearly worried, his expression matching the one she saw last night.

"Had me worried there for a moment," Leader said, inspecting her figure, "You were out cold, I almost called for Medic."

"Sorry, guess I slept through my alarm."

"You slept through Sidekick trying to wake you up." Leader said bluntly.

Lieutenant glanced to the teen, guilt washing over her. She moved to sit up, trying to collect herself, "Oh."

"You're taking the day off. You look exhausted."

She nodded, thankful they didn't do anything more.

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