Author's Note: I wanted to send this one out to Katie-you are rock-n-roll, seriously-who mentioned *hint hint* that she wanted to know what Hotch did on that walk. So here it is!

A Walk and A Donut

The town did have a bakery, which was open even at night. He went in and got a donut. Between him, the cashier, and Garcia it was rather indulgent, but for him it was downright sinful-a chocolate filled chocolate donut, with more dark frosting on top.

"Like your sweets, honey?" the cashier asked.

He smiled. "A friend of mine recommended I get one."

"Skinny kid? You send him to me, he'll be five pounds heavier before he leaves."

No point in saying it was Garcia. "He'd weigh more if her didn't live off coffee and Pixie Stix."

"Ain't that the truth."

Donut to hand, he went out, remembering Garcia's instruction to think happy thoughts.

Jack and Haley were safe. They had caught the unsub-no, wait, no crime thoughts. He took a bite and started again.

Jack and Haley were safe. The donut was an excellent idea-it slid down like Scotch.

Garcia brought him cookies, believing wholly in the restorative powers of sugar.

He had been able to indulge his guilty pleasure of sniffing Prentiss's hair on the flight in, a mixture of raspberry and vanilla, and at least three of her hairs had fell on his shirt. Corny but true. He had a very high-school crush on Emily Prentiss.

Sean had finally opened his restaurant in New York City, and it had gotten some good reviews. His brother deserved that. He really was a good cook. But telling him that would result in a super-inflated ego, so Hotch shut up and ate whatever Sean deemed fit to go through the mail.

He was alive to enjoy the walk, and the donut. Which was leaving crumbs all over his jacket, the only truly clean article of clothing left. He'd fly back in yesterday's suit, and doubtless Strauss would find a reason to see him in that state, and take it as further proof that he was unraveling at the seems.

Bad thoughts. He could hear Garcia scolding him.

Reid hadn't brought the book-on-tape version of Foundation. Not that he minded Isaac Asimov, but after the sixth go-round it was a bit old. Maybe he'd get Reid another book-on-tape for his birthday, something newer that everyone could listen to in the SUV. Keeping Reid supplied with fictional entertainment materials was like trying to chase a speeding car on foot, but Hotch's theory was that if enough people were chasing the speeding car, someone could catch it and slow it down. So far, Dave refused to participate in Hotch's experiment.

His cell phone rang. He considered ignoring it until he finished the last crumb of chocolate, but old habits took over and the phone was in his ear.

"O great and furry one, how art thou?"

"Hey Garcia."

"I assume you took my advice?"

He looked at the last bite of donut. "I did."

"Good. Now I can tell Rossi to knock off the heart attack he was fixing to have because you were out of his line of sight. Man has more control issues then anyone I've ever heard off, and I work with you guys. Are you sure he didn't escape from the zoo?"

"Positive," he laughed. "But he was at McLean a long time for their resident forensic psychologist."

"I will check upon that and see if they want him back."

"Have them replace him with someone less annoying. And better looking."

"No problem. Over and out, my darling."

He took the last bite of donut.