Notes: A week ago, in the house of a victim, Spencer Reid got shot in the knee while protecting said victim. Now he's on crutches. Takes place during 5x02 "Haunted". Spoilers for 5x01 "Nameless, Faceless", which you probably already watched.
There are many things that are far more difficult while using the mobility aids. One of them, that always floated in the back of Spencer Reid's mind, was buying cookies. There is a small bakery down the street. It's small on the outside, big on the inside. The scent of cookies can be smelled from a mile away.
It hurts when he walks. It hurts when he tries to get into his little car. He only drives to go to work, but that's it. It's too much for him to handle.
He only had one container filled with cookies left. The days passed, and he realized he only had ONE cookie left.
"Should I eat this?" he asked himself. "I should, shouldn't I?" His questions were left unanswered and echoed throughout the small apartment room— first floor, of course.
So he did. He ate the cookie. Two minutes of satisfaction ended quickly. He wanted another one, but he would be late to work.
...
Now here he was in Garcia's "room". A closed tin of cookies was set on the table right near him. It would be easy to nonchalantly reach over and grab a—
"No no no," Garcia stopped him. He tried to open the tin just a little more to see what kind of cookies the tin held. The smell was familiar.
Peanut butter cookies.
His favorite.
"Oh you," she said a little louder, making sure he paid attention. His full attention was on the deliciously baked treats. Deliciously baked...
"These are for Hotch," she reminded him.
He stared a little more at the tin. "I..." He tried to form a coherent response, but it was impossible with his cravings. He stared at Garcia to get this thoughts off the delectable devils that tortured him so.
"I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies?"
