A/N: Just some silliness from a while back written in response to a challenge Editor Frog and I set ourselves, (though I never did actually see hers...). There were only four rules to abide by and we could let our imaginations run rampant, but I'm afraid this didn't come out nearly as funny as I had anticipated. Ah well- here's hoping it's still a fun read.

The rules: 1) Must involve only Reid and Garcia. 2) Must involve the pair being stuck in a room of some sort. 3) Must refer to one 'offscreen case' to make people wonder. 4) Garcia may not use the term 'sweetcheeks'.

Grumpy and Gimpy

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Honestly, Reid- I love you dearly, but if you don't stop doing that right now I may have to hurt you."

Dr. Spencer Reid glanced at the computer analyst in surprise, hand stilling at his side.

"Stop what?"

Thunk.

"That! It's bad enough we've been stuck in this elevator forever-"

"Twenty minutes, tops," Reid corrected, arching an eyebrow. Thunk.

"-but your banging those crutches on the ground is really trying my patience, and we all know how Saint-like I happen to be in that department," she continued on over the interruption. Penelope Garcia then huffed an exasperated sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, staring pointedly at her young coworker.

Reid blinked and looked down at the offending instrument. An embarrassed flush tinted his cheeks a faint pink under sunken, shadowed eyes as he muttered a soft "Sorry," staring down at his feet. "I didn't realize I was doing that."

Garcia immediately regretted her outburst. 'Nice job, Grumpy. Yell at the gimp. I bet he's real glad he got stuck in here with you, now…' Sighing, she uncrossed her arms and moved to stand beside her friend, leaning against the wall.

"No, pumpkin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's not your fault I'm in a bad mood. It's just-"

"The last case. I know. It was… that one was bad, to say the least." Reid nodded as he spoke, thinking back over the last week.

"Yeah," Garcia agreed softly. Both were silent for a few minutes, tired and brooding. Reid shifted a little, the crutches under his arms becoming painfully uncomfortable the longer he stood unmoving, and suddenly an impish grin spread over his thin face.

"But you know, Garcia- even with all the creative things you call us all the time, how could we have possibly known Wafflehaus was the guy's name and not a place? I mean, I've heard 'Pumpkin Pie' and 'Sugar Cakes' and 'Hot Cakes'- I think you even put 'My Scrumptious Little Tart' on an e-mail you sent me, once- but Wafflehaus? Sounds more like an alternative to IHOP, if you ask me."

Penelope turned to look at him, surprised both that the words 'Hot Cakes' had come out of Genius Doctor Reid's mouth and at the glint of humor in his hazel eyes, and let out an appreciative laugh.

"Can't argue, there," she conceded. "But it was his nickname, smarty-pants. I'd like to see someone type up that birth certificate! Frederick Wafflehaus Hausen… that'd be priceless."

"Still, may as well have been his real name. Once we figured out it was a signature, the whole town knew who it was. And I thought Ashley would have been bad."

"Ashley?"

"Um, yeah. My dad wanted to name me after his great-grandfather Ashley, but mom refused." Reid paused, wincing. "I shouldn't have told you that."

Garcia giggled. "You're secret's safe with me, Ashley" she vowed as she plopped down to sit on the floor, wrinkling her nose a little when she realized too late how limited the space was down here what with the pair of crutches keeping Reid off his injured leg. He pretended to swat at her with one at the 'A' word, trying not to look envious as she settled, folding her legs in front of her.

"I think I'd almost prefer Wafflehaus," he muttered. "You know, it figures that someone like that could find such a… creative way to use liquid nitrogen." A shiver went down his spine at the thought, and he felt his good humor slip away. "I don't think I want to talk about the case, anymore…" The look on Garcia's face said she agreed wholeheartedly.

"We could always go back to talking about the weather," she replied wryly. "It doesn't get much more stimulating than high pressure systems-"

"Low, actually."

"-and wonky barometric pressure."

Reid gave her a strange look. "Wonky?"

"Would you prefer 'bizarre'? Strange? Abnormal? Maybe 'peculiar' would float your boat better, Professor," Garcia replied cheekily, smirking with self-satisfaction. Reid's expression barely changed, but he didn't miss a beat.

" 'Hinky' would work fine, too, smart-ass. But I'm not picky."

Garcia gaped up at the lanky genius, eyebrows just about up to her hairline. "Did you just call me…?"

Thunk.

"You know, that would probably make for an interesting drinking game if we weren't always at work."

If possible, Garcia's jaw dropped lower.

"Drinking ga- Reid, what are you talking about? And what exactly would you know about drinking games, Mister Child Prodigy?"

Reid raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that clearly said 'I thought you were smarter than that'.

"I did go to college, you know. Just because I was never the most popular kid in any school I attended didn't mean no one wanted to get the geeky little teenager drunk for a few laughs. I was quite adept at flip-cup."

"Flip-cup? Who are you and what have you done with my sweet, innocent little Junior G-Man?" Penelope accused, eyes narrowed. Reid shifted again, grinning.

"That'd be a drink." Thunk.

"What would?" she cried, exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. Thunk. Shift. "Oh, would you just sit down here with me, already? These things," she swatted at the crutch closest to her, "look like they're annoying you almost as much as they are me."

The profiler was very much enjoying getting his eccentric friend so riled up, and added one last thunk for good measure before taking pity on her.

"The pet names. Since we've been stuck in here you've used five different ones that I can recall, sweet cheeks. I'm starting to feel like I'm supposed to take a drink at every new one." He carefully positioned himself against the wall and put the crutches to the side, relaxing as much as he dared. "Of course, if I had I'd probably be pretty toasted, by now."

"Toasted?" Garcia shook her head in disbelief. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you Muffin? I should get stuck in the elevator with you more often."

"How would Kevin feel about that?"

"Who says he has to know?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and leaned into him slightly. This different, wicked and quirky Reid appealed to her playful side, and she couldn't help wanting to see how far she could push him. Grabbing his hand, she batted her lashes and smiled devilishly as she gently gave him a tug toward the floor, mindful of his careful balancing act. "Why don't you come down here and give Mama some sugar?"

"I don't know… I don't think I could get back up, again," he hedged, only half pretending to think about it- there really was a good chance if he sat down on the floor he'd wind up stuck there. "Why don't you come back up here and show me what has your boyfriend grinning so much all the time?"

"Oh you naughty boy, you!" Garcia laughed, unable to help herself. "I've got to say, I'm impressed you're so quick on your feet, today. Usually when I try to flirt with you, you just get all red and flustered. I like this."

"Maybe it's because I'm only on one foot. Makes me quicker than usual."

"Aren't people slower on only one foot?"

Reid shrugged. "What can I say? I like to be an anomaly."

"Indeed. Now sit!" the blonde insisted, tugging harder on the hand she refused to relinquish. She was starting to get a crick in her neck from having to look up at her tall companion.

The thought of sitting down was rather appealing after standing in one place for nearly half an hour, but Reid was hesitant. He figured he could get down without a problem, but the logistics of hefting his gangly, uncoordinated frame back up again eluded him.

Of course, the way Garcia kept pulling at him he was going to end up on the floor no matter what. How gracefully that happened was up to him.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, trying to reclaim his left arm. "Just please, stop doing that and give me back my hand before I fall on you." Garcia quickly loosened her fingers, scooting into the corner just in case things- namely, a certain big-brained FBI agent- went south. Reid rolled his eyes and slowly slid down the elevator wall, bracing his hands behind him and holding his left leg up and as out-of-the-way of the floor as possible. It took longer than he would have liked, feeling a little pathetic by the time he made it down, but at least he hadn't toppled over.

"See, now," the computer tech chirped as he relaxed, slinging an arm around his shoulder, "isn't that better?" Spencer opened his mouth to reply but before he could get anything out the elevator groaned and lurched, surging upward. Garcia cheered and clapped, standing up and gathering her things in anticipation. When the doors opened to the BAU floor, she practically skipped out without a second thought to the genius stranded inside.

"Um, Garcia?" he called to her retreating back. "A little help?"