Taste
Garcia was famous for bringing cookies to work on Fridays. Not little cookies. Big homemade ones the size of plates. She would cycle around the bullpen, JJ's office, Rossi's office, and finally finish her rounds at Hotch's. And she saved extra for Jack.
Haley had baked cookies when they were married, chocolate ship and peanut butter and sugar. He had often snuck some into his pocket on the way out the door to snack on later when no one was looking. She would discover the missings and call him at work, wherever he happened to be.
"Aaron, why am I missing three cookies?"
"Two and a half."
"Half a cookie counts as a whole, mister. Like cell phone minutes. Guilty?"
"As charged. But they're irresistible. I can't help myself."
"How many times do you hear that in the interrogation room?"
"Sometimes it's true."
And now Garcia, with her weekly offerings. Chocolate chip this time. She knocked and came in, beaming.
"Garcia, are you fattening me for the slaughter?"
"Why? You're perfect."
"I thought that was Morgan."
"Morgan is a god made of chocolate. You are the cream on my cappuccino."
"That just sounds wrong."
"It is. And I saved some for Jack."
"He loves Aunt Penelope's cookies. I probably wouldn't get let in without them."
Garcia left the bright plate piled with cookies. He suspected that he and Jack got the lion's share every week.
When he got home, he would say goodnight to Jessica. Then he and Jack would save the dinner she had cooked and eat cookies for supper instead, breaking them and dunking them heavily in milk. Then they'd have dinner for breakfast the next day so Jessica wouldn't suspect her nephew was being feed a meal of sugar once a week. Come to think of it, Haley wouldn't like it either.
He still had a picture of her on his desk. "Still trying, honey."