A/N: Since I have now almost filled up "Means a Little Bit More" (the last chapter I have a plan for) I needed a new place for ficlets and drabbles and the like. I have no idea how much or how often I'll post something, but this is where it will turn up.

This chapter is mostly a kind of introduction.

A happy family is but an earlier heaven.

-George Bernard Shaw

Garcia had started scrapbooking because she one day stumbled onto a small and absolutely wonderful shop that sold everything one could wish for in the scrapbooking department.

She had been completely enraptured by the hundreds of sheets of paper, stickers and countless other types of decorations. Perhaps a bit impulsively, she had bought an album and a lot of supplies, before heading home to begin the project.

The first step was, of course, to find photos.

Her first step was Rossi, because she was pretty sure he would be amenable to contributing and he probably had pictures from when he was young and also from when Hotch was young. So one Saturday evening when they had no case, she knocked on the door to Rossi's lavish house. It wasn't he who opened, though; it was Reid.

"Oh. Hi, Garcia," he greeted her, brow furrowed in confusion at her presence. Garcia was equally puzzled at his.

"Hi, Reid. What are you doing here?"

"Uh…" Reid said, looking rather embarrassed as his eyes darted to the side, "I…"

He trailed off, but before Garcia had time to press further Rossi appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "He's grounded," he said, wiping his hands on a towel as he came forward to press a kiss to Garcia's cheek, "and Jason thinks he needs feeding. What are you doing here?"

Pretending she didn't notice Reid's blush and annoyed glare at Rossi, Garcia smiled. "It's nothing important. I can come back later."

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "Don't be ridiculous, kitten," he chided, "You're always welcome. Come on in. We were just about to eat and there's more than enough for you too."

"Oh. Thanks," Garcia said brightly, and at a gesture followed Rossi into the kitchen together with Reid.

"So what are you doing here?" Rossi asked over his shoulder while returning to his place by the counter, chopping tomatoes, "Give her some wine, Reid."

Still looking a bit disgruntled, Reid obeyed; getting out a glass and filling it with white wine before he took a seat at the table where, Garcia realized, he had his own wine-glass waiting for him.

"Are you allowed to drink when you're grounded?" she asked curiously.

"I am, with Rossi," Reid said, sounding as if he too was a little puzzled by it. Garcia turned her inquiring gaze to Rossi, who shrugged.

"Jason told me to feed him. I'm feeding him. It's not my fault my food needs wine to be fully appreciated," Rossi said and then – masterfully ignoring Reid's mumbled "it kind of is, actually" – continued "But we were talking about you. Not that you need a reason to visit, but I figure there is one."

"And you're right, Agent Awesome. I've decided to take up scrapbooking."

Rossi half turned to give her a puzzled look, while he continued chopping, something which Garcia rather admired. "What's 'scrapbooking'?"

At his place at the table, Reid was looking equally confused, so Garcia happily began explaining. "It's like making a memory-book. With photos and mementos and things that remind you of people and situations."

Reid frowned. "It sounds like something a serial-killer would make."

"Reid," Rossi said in a scolding tone. Garcia wasn't really offended though; now that Reid pointed it out she could see the parallels between classical scrapbooking and serial killer's 'trophies'. But that was true of regular photo-albums as well. And pretty much anything really, when you'd seen as many different killers as they had.

"What? It does," Reid defended himself.

"Doesn't mean you need to say so," Rossi retorted, sweeping up the now diced tomatoes and putting them in a bowl before moving on to a red onion.

"I don't mind," Garcia quickly broke in, "and he is kind of right. But hang on. I can show you some pictures."

With that she reached down for her bag to get out her laptop, but Rossi's voice stopped her. "No computers at the table! Or phones. Or anything like that."

Suddenly feeling a bit guilty – Rossi was very good at sounding stern – Garcia straightened. "Sorry."

"You can show me after dinner. And Reid, if he wants. And I guess you wanna take a look at my old photos?"

"That's right! So you've got some good ones?"

Rossi chuckled. "Oh yeah."

"It's very… pink," Reid said, frowning at the picture Garcia had brought up on her computer. It was one of the albums she had found a blog about and had immediately liked. In part, she had to admit, because it was pink and glittery.

"It's for a little girl," Garcia explained, "Ours won't be pink. Not very pink, at least."

Rossi nodded thoughtfully, as he watched Garcia scroll through the pictures. "I'm sure it'll be great. Have you decided what pictures of the team to use?"

"Well… I thought I'd make a spread for each family member so I need photos of you doing you-stuff. Like Reid doing magic or you cooking."

"But you have pictures like that, don't you? You always take pictures," Reid said, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement.

"Of course, my pretty. But I want pictures from everyone's entire lives and I don't have any of when Rossi was young. Or Hotch. And I want pictures of the Leroys as well. I'll want childhood photos from all of you, too!"

"There aren't very many pictures from when I was a kid, you know," Rossi said, "We didn't walk around with high resolution cameras in our pockets back then."

"But you have some, right?" Garcia asked hopefully.

"Sure. My mom probably has more, if you're serious about this. Anyway, here are the ones I could find."

He held out an old slightly battered cardboard box which Garcia eagerly took from his hands and opened, taking out a thick bunch of photographs. Next to her, Reid leant forward eagerly to watch as she sorted through them. Apparently he was as excited as her about seeing Rossi young.

The first picture was a young man – almost a boy – in uniform. After a moment Garcia realized that it was Rossi, at perhaps eighteen or so.

"That one's from right before I went to Vietnam," Rossi explained, "It doesn't really show, but I was scared as hell. I tried to hide it so I didn't worry my mom, but she saw through it. Obviously."

"How old were you?" Reid asked.

"Eighteen. Just a kid, really." For a while, Rossi stared in silence at the serious face of the younger version of himself, before he pulled himself together and gave Garcia a small smile. "You can have it if you want. There are more copies somewhere."

Garcia eagerly accepted, putting the photo aside, before she turned her attention to the next one. This one wasn't as staged as the last and had captured two young men on a sofa, looking as if they were involved in some kind of wrestling match. It was Rossi and Alexandre Leroy, perhaps in their late twenties.

Rossi frowned at it for a moment. Then he smiled widely.

"I remember this. It was the Italy-France game in the World Cup '78. Soccer, that is. Italy won." The last piece of information was shared with a decidedly smug grin and Garcia smiled back as she put aside the photo as another one that would go in the album.

They kept going through the pictures for over an hour, encountering photos from various stages of Rossi's life, in what seemed to be no particular order. There were pictures of Hotch as he must have looked when he and Rossi first met, often with a smile on his face that probably came from something the smiling people around him had said. There was a picture of Leroy in full dress uniform, including a sword hanging from his hip. Immediately after that one was he and his wife caught in what looked to be a rather passionate kiss.

Also, there were a lot of photographs with Rossi and women. Different women. At the fifth one, Garcia and Reid gave him twin looks of disbelief. The older man shrugged. "What? Women like Italians. But… don't put those in the book."

There were pictures of Rossi's mother and various other relatives, most of them full of laughter and smiles. Garcia's particular favorite was one where Hotch was enveloped in Mrs. Rossi's embrace, his head drawn down to so the old woman could kiss one of his fiercely blushing cheeks. In the background was Rossi, obviously trying to contain his laughter at the younger man's discomfort.

"I really want to meet your mom!" Garcia exclaimed when she saw it. Rossi smiled.

"She wants to meet you too. I'll invite her for dinner soon, as long as you promise not to plot too much with each other."

Garcia gave him an innocent look. "Oh, I would never do that, sir."

"Yeah, right," Rossi scoffed, then gestured to the photo, "You can have it if you like."

"Thank you," Garcia said, smiling widely, and added it to her rapidly growing pile.

A/N2: If you have story ideas or prompts or something like that, feel free to leave a review with them. I can't make any promises I'll write it, but it might spark something. :)