This one's me again. Leave reviews for Ch. 2 and Ch. 3!

See disclaimers.


"Reg, if you don't quit flirting with every pretty angel that walks you'll be watching the doctor from Recovery," Gina snapped. The reassignments had only been in place for twenty minutes and the Britisher was back up to his old tricks. To Charlene she mumbled, "I can't believe I drew three days of him…"

"No, honey, our charges are to thank for that," Charlene replied. Though she rather liked the idea of watching over the straight-laced Hotch, she wasn't thrilled about putting up with the Company's idea of 007 either. "It'll be good for Hotch, though—three days of not being the man in charge."

"This guy, Oliver," Gina said. "He seems all right."

"Oh, here's something," the Southern woman replied. Below them, the three charges walked into a small coffee shop and took a table.

----

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Reid complained for the twelfth time since the group had left Josh's house—the 'home base' for the game they were now all playing.

"Reid, relax," Oliver said, tossing his coat on the back of his chair and signaling the waitress. "I'm sure you can manage to finish your list of stuff over the course of three days."

Even Hotch had to smile. "If I've got to walk around like a clown for eight hours, you can get us free coffee and sandwiches. In fact, I'd trade if I could…"

Reid thought about that a minute. Dressing like a clown only to get screamed and laughed at or charming a waitress out of free food for three? The idea of being the joke in the room reminded him of growing up in school, where he had been that person on a regular basis. "Free food it is, then," he said quickly, much to his companions' amusement.

After the groups had been picked, Garcia had insisted on each person randomly drawing a set of four 'tasks' that had to be completed within the three days, including a task that all of the team members had to participate in. If proof was procured of each member of a team completing their lists before the other teams did, they would win $1200 to split. If they didn't, they would have to perform one more task—one that was somewhat embarrassing and unique to each individual.

"More incentive to do well," the blonde tech had said brightly. "Now, go forth and conquer!"

"Can I help you?" the waitress said, startling Reid out of his thoughts.

"I…ah…well…"

"Peppermint latte, easy on the foam, and a roast beef sandwich with no onion, please," Oliver said.

"Coffee, black, and the grilled chicken with light mayonnaise," Hotch said.

"Okay…and you, hon?"

Reid swallowed hard. "E-espresso, lots of sugar, lots of cream, a-and maybe a bowl of that soup…"

"Chicken noodle, tomato vegetable, clam chowder or broccoli cheese?"

A pair of warm brown eyes stared at the waitress in utter stricken confusion. "Huh?"

"He'll go with the vegetable," Oliver said. "You'll have to excuse my friend here—he seems a little taken with you, miss."

The waitress blushed a little. "Okay, um…" she managed to get out through nervous giggles. "I'll be right out with your drinks."

"Are you mad?!" Reid hissed as soon as the girl had gone in the back.

"Reid, focus. Make the girl happy, make her feel special, you get free dinner."

Reid's eyes glowered. "You two are enjoying this, aren't you?"

Hotch worked hard to suppress the chuckle that was dying to get out of his mouth.

----

"This will be a disaster," Anya said.

"And Connie thought she had it bad normally," Stanley seconded.

Connie, meanwhile, was working her feathers off. One of Chase's tasks was to cook dinner for the entire party, and Connie had her hands full making sure that the woman didn't slip in the puddle of spilled milk and hit her head on Morgan's countertop or burn herself on metal pans or start a grease fire.

"This is a nightmare!" she cried after Chase had managed to burn a third set of biscuits. "How does Terrence keep up!?"

"Usually?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, thankfully, Chase doesn't cook all that much. Last time she burned out Oliver's kitchen—cost her a fortune in repairs…"

Connie's eyes widened and rolled in exasperation. "Good Lord," she said, instantly clapping her hand over her mouth as she did so.

----

"Ah, Morgan?" Chase called out.

"Woman, don't tell me you burned…"

"Okay. How 'bout I tell you I made shiny new hockey pucks?"

"That's the third batch of biscuits!"

"I know. Whoever threw this task in was hoping I'd pull it, I can bet." Chase's eyes narrowed playfully. –"I bet it was Oliver, the sneak."—

--From what I hear, Dr. Reid is a horrible cook too.—

Even Morgan had to laugh. "He's right," he seconded. "Unless it's take-out or coffee, Reid can't seem to make anything edible."

--How do you think Cam and Joseph Stackhouse stay in business?—

Chase replied with a punch to Kyle's arm. –Twice in one day?! What'd I do?!"

--"Just you wait, sport. Seems you've got to try and give a lecture in public…"—

--My hands work fine.—

--"Yeah, but you have to get five people to understand you. And going to Campbell isn't an option. You've gotta do it here."—

--Galludet, here I come,-- Kyle said smugly. –I knew there was a reason for a deaf college in D.C….—

Chase and Morgan shook their heads. –"You're not getting off that easy,"—they said in unison.

Kyle made a sign that both of them knew. Damn.

"Well, the biscuits are toast," Morgan said, looking at the charred bread-like rock that Clooney was trying to gnaw on. "What else were you planning on making?"

"To feed eleven people? I was gonna try a turkey…"

Kyle just shook his head and laughed.

----

"Vell, so far thees ees going good."

"For all your complaining…"

"Silence."

"Oh, no, thanks. I get enough of that on my regular job," Jorge said, a smile gracing his face.

"Gott in Himmel. Another joker."

"Take the rod out of your butt, Stalin. It's the holidays."

"No excuse." Wilhelm peered down to see what his 'new' charge was up to.

----

"Tracking someone without my babies? I mean, can that actually be done?"

Rossi smothered a chuckle. "Yes, Penelope. Among other things."

Garcia glared. "Look. Pen and paper, fine for you, but…"

"Hey, I'll have you know that we did a lot way back when with just paper files. We actually caught people, too."

The look Garcia gave told the older profiler that though she believed him, she didn't want a return to that reality. "Well, let's focus on my list, then," he said, changing the subject. "Where's the nearest tattoo parlor?"

----

"A tattoo?" Jorge laughed. "Oh, that woman will be so mad she missed this…"

"Yess, thees vould bee right up Charlene's alleyvay," Wilhelm said primly. "Now to make sure zhere arre no rashes or eenfections…"

----