Prompt: Bitch, Please

Penelope Garcia felt a little like she was in a very bad movie. This was the part where the slutty blonde tried to feel up her boyfriend and she shoved her back with a, "Hands off," or maybe that infamous, "Bitch, please…I know you're not trying to touch my man."

But since most of her colleagues were around and she did work for the FBI she would really rather not get into a fight in the middle of a bar.

Besides considering that Miss Slutty McFake Tits weighted about 90 pounds (including the silicone), it was probably a good idea not to fight lest she broke the twig in two.

Just as she was patting herself on the back for her amazing self-control, the whore in question rubbed those fake breasts across her boyfriend's chest and that was about enough for her.

"Look," Penelope said, coming up from her stool and trying to get past Derek to the girl he was carefully pushing away.

"Relax, Pen," he whispered to her, arms coming around her. Then he smiled at her, pulling her body against his as his mouth found hers. The kiss was slow and passionate and when he finally pulled away, her knees were weak.

When her eyes finally cleared, she realized the other woman was gone and their friends were watching them with amusement.

"Oops," she said, "our cover is blown."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her again, "S'okay. Now everyone knows you're mine."

She smiled, grabbing a handful of his shirt and hauling him closer, "And you are mine."