Fics like always in my head, hanging by a thread

Whitaker shrugs sort of helplessly and sucks in a big gulp of air like he can’t get the words out fast enough. “Normally when she gets upset, she just does everything faster and louder until she burns off whatever it is. But this time she’s—something’s really wrong.” “And you're telling me because…?” Garcia wants to know, wants to hear him say it. “You spend the most time with her,” he reasons. “And I know you’re not—y’know—exchanging life stories,” Whitaker acknowledges awkwardly, “but I thought you might… like, maybe she’s told you something, or—?” “She hasn’t,” Garcia interrupts, crossing her arms and setting her posture. “We’re just sleeping together. Your roommate’s nervous breakdown, your problem.” Now Whitaker looks properly pissed, which Garcia didn’t even know his little cherub face was capable of. (A Santos character study within a Garcia character study.)

Fics like always in my head, hanging by a thread

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