an- Well, it certainly has been a while hasn't it! I really hope I haven't put people off with the stupidly long gap. I am sorry! Life has been a little crazy, and this chapter just didn't want to happen. It's short and not my best work, but I really wanted to just get posting on this again. Reviews and constructive criticism are so welcomed it's not even funny. Now without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter Eight: In Which There Is a Turn for the Worse

Reid blinked. It appeared that he had just stumbled into a cave. Only, it was a neon green cave, with fluorescent pink, marshmallow shaped, chairs scattered everywhere. A neon green, marshmallow chair strewn cave, lined with cupcakes in every size, shape, flavour and colour.

So Garcia had chosen the meet up spot then.

Blinking again, trying to get used to the change in the light, he shuffled over to greet the others (he'd gotten distracted by a magician on the corner of the Piazza).

"Pull up a chair young sir, and join us won't you?" Grinning, Reid sat down and whispered to Prentiss.

"You survived then?" She shot a glare that could freeze any volcano towards him, but before Emily could make a suitably spiky retort, Hotch returned to the table wielding a tray weighed down with enough coffee and cupcakes to satisfy even the BAU. Waving away all offers of reimbursement, their boss dished out the respective orders before raising a mug in toast.

"To us!"

Mutters of 'hear hear' and such followed, before they all clinked overly caffeinated beverages.

*

An hour or so passed by in a flurry of cake crumbs and chatter. They paid and left, before browsing through the market for a little while. The sky was beginning to turn the misty shade of blue that means dusk is approaching, and as the wind kicked their scarves playfully around the team's faces, the talk turned to plans for the evening.

"There's a pretty cool art gallery a couple of stops over…"

"Emily, I would rather shove my foot up my own a-"

"Okay! Consider your point taken. Any other suggestions?"

"What about a little game of football? There's bound to be parks around here somewhere."

"Morgan, I would rather shove my foot up YOUR a-"

"Alright you two!" Garcia moved between the two bickering agents. "Now what about a little karaoke?"

The team winced at the memory of the show tune sing-off the night before. Hotch, who had heard the entire thing through the all too thin wall, felt that now was the time to step in and save the situation.

"Take-out and movies?"

Thankfully everybody agreed, and plans were made. The group of intrepid crime fighters began to make their way back to the tube station, and crisis was averted. Hotch breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for all those negotiation lessons.

*

Reid and Garcia had been assigned the task of choosing the movies and grabbing snacks. Well, Reid mused to himself, I was present when the movies were picked anyhow. Garcia had taken it upon herself to inject some fun into their lives, and had simply thrust her choices at him. Reid of course had seen neither ('Shaun of the Dead' and '500 Days of Summer') but he trusted Garcia's judgement. Well… most of the time.

They turned into the small convenience store (or 'newsagents' as he had heard Londoners refer to it) and he looked forward to getting more input in the snack choices. Although they had been given the order that if someone didn't pick up marshmallows and chocolate for Rossi, heads would roll. The man had been suffering s'more cravings lately for some strange reason.

Penelope had rushed off with a basket, filling it up with unknown confectionary, and Reid made to follow her when suddenly he felt something very cold and all too familiar pressed against the back of his head.

"Nobody moves, or say good bye to skinny boy here."