Summary: While on a case, Morgan and Garcia's banter gets mistaken for sexual harassment. Just fluff for grins and giggles.
A/N: I do not own CM.
"Hello, my sexy…"
"You're on speaker phone, be nice."
"Oh. But where's the fun in that – huh?"
"Or what? You'll spank me?"
Derek Morgan gulped, clearly at a loss for words. The team, and the police chief they were aiding, stared at him curiously. They all knew – except for the police officer – of Morgan and Garcia's banter. The chief, however, was looking quite perplexed, and uncomfortable.
"Mmm, tempting, but no. I need you to run some files for me…."
"You're so hot when you take charge, lover."
"Did that huge brain of yours not interpret the words 'speaker phone?' Tone it down."
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Look, when I have you on speaker phone, Garcia, everyone can hear. We've been through this…"
"…a thousand times," she finished for him, "I know, I know. But just let me have my fun, okay? And besides, I know you like it when I talk dirty to you."
"You're more trouble than you're worth," Morgan rolled his eyes, "Now the files. I need you to run a background check on a Mr. Thomas E. Brewers. I need to know everything about him."
"Alright. Let me work my magic here."
"Wouldn't put it past you."
"Okay. I see a Mr. Thomas E. Brewers as a graduate from MSU with a bachelor's degree in Metaphysics and that he moved to LA after finishing his degree. His parents are both deceased and he has one brother living in San Juan. He – the brother – works for a computer tech company known as AmTrek and Tommy Boy is listed as unemployed."
"Thank you, baby girl. I knew I could count on you."
"You owe me some major coffeage."
"And I like I my coffee like I like my men – tall, dark, and strong."
"Speaker, baby girl, speaker."
"So what?" Garcia laughed, "I can say what I want to say when I want to say it. It's a free country. If I want to proclaim my divine love of your godly sexiness over the phone, then I will."
"Godly sexiness?" Morgan asked, taking sudden intent interest.
"You're going to make my head grow," Morgan grinned, "Talk to you later."
"Okkie dokkie, hot cakes."
Morgan smiled, rolling his eyes, and hung up his cell.
"Who was that?" The police chief asked, clearly confused with the phone call.
"That is our computer analyst, Penelope Garcia," Hotch explained.
"She's a little fireball isn't she? I didn't know the FBI allowed such blatant sexual harassment in the work place."
"Sexual harassment?" Morgan let out a chuckle, "Seriously?"
"Yes. Such behavior can be a serious problem in the workplace."
"She's the best we got," Rossi explained, "And she's not harassing anyone."
"Not even him?" The chief pointed to Morgan, "Because I heard a completely different story."
"That's just how they are," Hotch tried to explain, "Morgan, try and get her to tone it down, alright?"
"Me?" Morgan chuckled, "Yeah, I'll get right on that."
Hotch rolled his eyes, knowing that there was no way Penelope Garcia would ever 'tone down' anything. It was who she was.
"If I might say something," Reid interrupted, "It's just their form of friendly bantering. It has been like this ever since Morgan first met her and none of us take it too seriously. It cannot be classified as sexual harassment because it is consensual and Morgan has not tried to stop it…"
"Hey!" Morgan looked offended.
"Also," Reid continued, "It is clear to see that, how both Agent Morgan and Garcia interact, is just a mutual friendship. Besides, it doesn't get in the way of the job. If anything, it helps. They make each other smile, and when you work these kinds of jobs, chief, you need that smile."
"When you see dead bodies and have to explain to the victims' loved ones what has taken place, you need a laugh, a smile, just like you would need water after being out in the desert for days on end. Whatever helps is needed. Don't mistake what you heard as something it's not. They need each other to work these cases. If you want help with this case, then I suggest you leave them alone."
"How many times have I told you to never analyze me, book-brain?" Morgan asked.
"Including now? About fifty-three times. But unless that was more of an inquiry than a request, fifty-two ti…"
"Alright," the chief rubbed a hand to his forehead, "I guess let's go after this Brewer's and see what we come up with. Now then, whatever goes on between you guys is between you. I want no part in it."
"When you make phone calls, keep them private."
"That goes for all of you – no speaker calls. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Rossi nodded.
"What happens in the BAU, stays in the BAU," Reid smirked, patting Morgan on the shoulder.
"Yeah," Morgan shoved Reid's hand off of his shoulder, "Don't touch me."
"I was just…"
"Ever been shot with a gun, Reid?"
"Then don't touch me."
"You came highly recommended," the police chief looked to Rossi, "Don't disappoint me."
"We won't sir. Standing before you, are some of the best behavioral analyzers the FBI has to offer. We will find your guy, trust me on that."
"And the arguing and phone-sex?"
"I was in the military," Rossi went on to explain, "I was one of the lead commanders. I had about forty-five men to look out for. They obeyed my order as if it were doctrine. As far as they go, I do what I can, but I cannot make you any promises. If you don't want to listen, leave the room."
"Just so you know, chief, Garcia was actually pretty well-behaved this time around."
"You call that well-behaved?"
"Yes. Like I said, if you have a problem with it, leave."
"You gotta tone it down, baby girl."
"Because, the chief we worked with on this case wasn't too pleased with us. He told Hotch and Rossi that it could be considered sexual harassment."
"Sexual harassment?" Garcia put the tip of her fuzzy pen to her lips, "Why Derek Morgan, are you insinuating that you want me to sexually harass you…because I can arrange to have that happen."
"Garcia," Morgan pointed a finger at her, "Behave."
"But it's no fun. Besides, you love it when I talk dirty to you, don't you sweet-cheeks?"
"Fine. I like it when you talk dirty to me, happy?" Morgan asked.
"Very. Now scat!" Garcia shooed Morgan towards the door.
"Scat? What am I, a cat?"
"You came in here without any offering and you insisted upon telling me to clean up our phone calls."
"Because Hotch told me…"
"I don't care!" Garcia shoved him towards the door, "Out!"
"Baby girl," Morgan took her hand in his, "Did I hurt your feelings?"
"A little," Garcia admitted, not meeting his eyes, "I mean, how am I supposed to feel? We always talk like that and just because some high-falootin' police chief doesn't like it…"
Morgan brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles sweetly, "I like our phone calls," he told her, "Don't change. You keep me smiling through all these messes, baby girl. Don't hold back on me."
"Mmm," Garcia smiled, "I couldn't if I tried."
Morgan winked at her before twisted the doorknob. Just as he was about to step out of her lair, Garcia smacked him on the butt. Morgan turned around, his jaw falling lax.
"Did you just…?"
"Mmhmm," Garcia nodded.
"That's pushing it, sweet heart."
"You liked it."
"I could go to Hotch with a sexual harassment form all filled out in about two minutes."
"You wouldn't it."
"How do you know?"
"Because," Garcia leaned against the door frame, "I know you. And, I know you liked it."
Morgan glared at her, shaking a playful finger at her before walking back to his cubicle. Garcia was a handful, but he wouldn't have her any other way.