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As an unspoken rule, the Team refrained from perfumed body sprays, strongly scented deodorants, colognes and perfumes while traveling on cases. It was done for a variety of reasons and was adhered to even when Old Spice and Charlie would have been easier on the nose than humidity-enhanced BO. Aftershave, lotions and hair products were not on the list, but the Team did tend to stick to neutral-smelling things.
Standing next to Reid in the police station as the AC was on full blast, Hotch caught the faintest whiff of cinnamon. Reid's shampoo, he mentally identified and it took a bit of willpower for his fingers not to tighten on the report they were looking at together. Reid didn't use traditional liquid shampoo, but solid pucks that he kept in aluminum tins.
"One less thing to spill in my bag," he had explained one time. It made sense, although Reid's campaign to convert him hadn't quite succeeded.
Cinnamon. That was the red one. Reid had several and all of them had silly names like Jumping Juniper, Seanik, and that Karma-something. The red one was Hotch's favorite, he supposed, because it made Reid smell like Reid.
Which was really stupid if he stopped and thought about it.
But he rarely did.
Because it was one of those Reid things and he had learned to accept "Reid Things" just as they were. Trying to mentally dissect Reid Things often gave him a headache or left him even more confused than before.
Hotch found himself leaning a little closer, taking breaths a little too long and a little too deep.
He saw the faintest smile flash across Reid's features.
He wanted to say aloud, "Not fair. You broke the rule about scented things."
But he couldn't.
He wouldn't.
He just breathed.
///Finis///