Epiphany

18

Rossi's house smelled like roasted garlic and simmering tomatoes, the rich aroma of his signature pasta sauce filling the dining room. The team sat around his large wooden table, plates full, glasses half-empty, warmth and familiarity wrapping around them like a well-worn blanket. It had been a long time since Clara had felt this comfortable, but that didn't mean she wasn't dreading what she had to say.

She'd been quiet through most of dinner, which wasn't unusual, but tonight, it was different. Hotch had noticed. So had Morgan. Even Garcia, who had been excitedly chattering about some new tech upgrade at Quantico, kept sneaking glances in her direction.

Clara sighed, setting down her fork and glancing at Rossi, who met her with an encouraging nod. If there was ever a time to just rip off the Band-Aid, it was now.

"So..." she started, pushing a piece of bread around on her plate. "I, uh... I have a date on Friday."

Silence.

She hadn't expected an immediate reaction, but the way every head at the table turned toward her in unison made her want to disappear into her chair.

"With who?" Morgan was the first to break the silence, his brow furrowed. Protective.

Clara hesitated. "Beckett. He—he works at a coffee shop."

Reid, ever the logical one, tilted his head. "Statistically, a first date has about a 50% chance of leading to a second one if both parties feel a mutual attraction and—"

"Not helping, pretty boy," Morgan cut in, turning his attention back to Clara. "You barely talk to anyone outside of work, and now you're going out with some guy we don't even know? Have you run a background check on him?"

Clara groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I literally told you not to—"

"Too late, pumpkin. The background check has been run, and I have the receipts," Garcia said, wiggling her fingers over the keyboard. "Beckett James Carter, 17 years old. Born and raised in D.C. One older sister, parents still married—adorable, by the way. No criminal record, no shady past, not even a parking ticket. He plays hockey. Works part-time at the coffee shop and volunteers at a youth sports program. Oh! And his credit score is amazing."

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Well, well, Clara. You found yourself a Boy Scout."

Clara shot Garcia a look. "You checked his credit score?"

"I check everything," Garcia replied sweetly. "You're welcome."

JJ smiled, nudging Clara's arm. "He actually sounds... kind of perfect."

Rossi nodded. "Respectable background. Stable job. Could be worse."

Clara glared at all of them. "You guys are insane."

Reid, who had been quiet until now, tapped his fingers against his glass. "You have to admit, Garcia running the check does make sense. Given your history, it's reasonable to be cautious."

"Yeah," Morgan added. "And you've been through a lot, Clara. We just want to make sure this guy isn't gonna add to that."

Clara exhaled, pushing her plate away. "I appreciate it. I do. But can we please just pretend for one second that I'm a normal person going on a normal date?"

Garcia gave her a sheepish smile. "A normal person doesn't have their FBI family pre-screening their potential boyfriend, huh?"

Clara shot her a look. "Exactly."

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine. But if this guy so much as looks at you wrong—"

"I know, I know," Clara interrupted. "You'll make him disappear."

Rossi smirked. "We wouldn't have to make him disappear. Just a well-timed conversation with Hotch would do the trick."

Clara turned to Hotch, who had been silent the whole time, observing. "You're not actually going to scare him off, are you?"

Hotch met her eyes, taking a slow sip of his wine before answering. "Not unless I have to."

Clara groaned again, but deep down, she couldn't help the warmth that spread in her chest.

They were overbearing, intrusive, and entirely too nosy—but they were also her family.