Author's Note: This fic here is written for my bestest buddy. SpencerReidFan7. This is a Birthday fic for her!
This idea hit me as I thought about my experience on Father's Day when I baked for my dad.
Spencer Reid flung his side bag over his shoulder. This was it. Despite his intellect, he'd never attempted baking before. Rossi was going to help him out.
These cookies were going to be a gift for JJ who was currently on her maternity leave. He grinned at the prospect as he eagerly raised his hand to rap on the door three times.
"You're almost late," Dave accused, opening the door.
Shrugging, Reid caught sight of his 'Kiss me, I'm Italian' apron, and gave Rossi a confused look.
If Rossi noticed, he didn't respond and shutting the door, he followed the young doctor into his massive kitchen. Dave wasted no time in grabbing another apron off his hook by his fridge and he tossed it over to Reid. "Put it on," he said now reaching for his recipe book.
"Um, I'm not a Chef," Reid muttered lamely, his cheeks going red as he put the apron back.
"You are today," Rossi replied, flipping absent mindedly through the pages.
"Actually, I'm not. Chefs are professional cooks, what we're doing isn't-"
"Reid, just put the apron on. Or I'm not helping you," Dave interrupted, now looking up to meet Reid's eyes.
His face flushing even more, Spencer Reid slipped on the apron with the words imprinted 'Kiss the Chef.'
Rossi looked up at him and grinned. "That's much better, now come over here and pick out which cookies you want to make."
Lamely, Reid made a quick attempt to tie up his apron and approached the recipe book. For several minutes, he flipped through pages looking at different cookies. The wheels in his head turned, and he could see the impatience on Dave's face. He knew facts. He knew statistics. He could profile someone within moments of meeting him and for the life of him he couldn't pick out a cookie recipe?
"That one," he said suddenly, just flipping to a random page and pointing at a picture.
Dave leaned over to look at the recipe. "You didn't pick a good one for your first batch," he said shaking his head.
"Wait!" Reid said panicked, "Let me look again."
"No, I have everything for this one. It'll be fine. Now hand me a big bowl from the cupboard by the fridge."
Sticking his tongue out in determination, Reid pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and pulled down a large green bowl.
"Now pass me the flour, four eggs, some vegetable oil and some-"
"Hold on," Reid said, his tone reaching a high pitch Rossi hadn't thought possible. "One thing at a time."
"I'll get it."
"I'm supposed to be making these," Spencer insisted. "They're not as meaningful if you do most of the work."
"Do you want to get them to her BEFORE she has the baby?" Rossi asked, opening the fridge to pull out the egg tray.
Carefully measuring the flour, Rossi dumped it into the bowl. After he saw the look on Reid's face, he sighed. He pushed the egg tray towards him. "You crack four eggs into the bowl."
A hint of a smile appeared on Spencer's face as he took one of the eggs. Neither knew what caused it, but the next second there was splattered egg on the floor.
Dave tried not to cringe, before grabbing a cloth from the stove.
"Sorry," Reid mumbled sheepishly, taking another egg. This time, it ended up in the bowl, but so did most of the shell.
"It's okay," came the response. "You just have to get the shell out."
Shrugging, Reid grabbed a spoon. This shouldn't be too hard. Much to his frustration, every time he nearly got a piece of the shell, it slipped off his spoon.
Rossi leaned back against the counter, an amused expression on his face as he watched the frustrated genius try and fix his mistake.
After what seemed like an eternity to Spencer, the bowl appeared to be clear. "Um, would you mind cracking the last of the eggs?" he asked sheepishly, turning to look over at Dave.
Things seemed calm for awhile after that, and they appeared to be going well. Of course, that wasn't meant to last. It wasn't long before Reid had spilt flour all over Rossi's newly done floor, accidentally left a plastic spoon in when he turned on the electric mixer and almost put baking soda in instead of baking powder.
On edge now, Rossi was relieved to go answer a phone call. All Reid had to do was put the cookies in the oven. It was simple, and he figured nothing could go wrong.
He was very mistaken. Having taken the call outside, he didn't realize anything was wrong until a loud beeping alerted him. Hanging up quickly, he ran inside. The smoke alarm was going off, and the second he opened the door he could tell why.
Smoke filled the entire downstairs of his mansion and he struggled to breathe as he took in a couple coughs.
"Rossi!" he heard Reid calling, his voice several octaves up from what it normally was.
He wasted no time in grabbing a fire extinguisher. Luckily, for Reid, it took seconds for him to fix the problem. However, quite unlucky for Reid, he could already hear the sirens in the distance and at this moment was cursing his alarm system.
Throwing open windows all over the place, he finally caught sight of Reid's panic stricken face. "How?" Rossi managed to sputter out.
His eyes downcast, Reid opened his mouth to respond before he was cut off by Rossi.
"Never mind, I don't want to know," he admitted, walking over to the door to allow the firemen in to check everything out.
For the entirety of their stay, Reid remained outside, sitting at the patio table refusing to meet anyone's eyes. He could hear the firemen laughing as they left.
He sat there for a few minutes, debating whether or not to go inside when Rossi came out. He didn't say anything, but just stood there.
Shifting anxiously, Reid said sheepishly, "So um, do you have enough stuff for another try?"
A $20.00 bill was shoved into his hand. "Reid, do us both a favour, and go buy her cookies."
Happy Birthday, Twin! Hope it's fantastic!