Reid and Reid Ship Oneshots

Sick Reid

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Reid wasn't really one to get sick often. The last time he remembered he had a cold was when he was seventeen; five years ago, almost to the day.
The winter put a bit of a strain on his body, because of his low fat percentage and how overworked and caffeinated he always was. It was a miracle that other BAU members didn't fall ill more often, as they were just as overworked and just as caffeinated as you could get.

Reid walked into the bullpen with his bag at his side and his glasses up on the top of his head. His nose and eyes were pink, seeming to be rubbed raw or irritated.
He tripped over his foot slightly as he made it to his desk, and he looked around, disorientated by what had tripped him. He sat in his desk chair, and took a file from his stack. He knew there was more than yesterday, but he couldn't bring up the energy to investigate.

He searched his desk for his glasses, but couldn't find them. He then dug around in his book bag, but still couldn't find them.

"Morgan." Reid coughed, rubbing his eyes as he got the man's attentions.

He turned in the direction of his name, and landed his eyes on Reid. He looked disheveled and weak, but Morgan paid no mind to that.

"Yeah?" He called from his desk.

"Have you seen my glasses? I can't find them." Reid began to look around his desk again.

Morgan stared in disbelief. Did he really just asked that? At first he was humored by the question, he almost laughed, but then he was worried. Was Reid's brain really fried right now?

"They're...on your head, Reid." Morgan chuckled nervously.

"Huh?" Reid reached his hands up to the top of his head and fumbled around for the lenses. He brought them down in confusion. "Did I put them there?" He asked himself.

"You doing ok, kid?" Morgan asked, walking over to Reid's desk and leaning against his desk. This question signaled Emily who was right across from Reid's desk at her own.

She looked over to the two men and blatantly listened to them, joining in on the questionnaire.

"Yeah, just a little dazed today, is all." Reid brazened. He sniffed softly, and opened his file to work on it.

"I'm gonna take mine back, if you don't mind." Emily said skeptically. She grabbed the top six files from Reid's stack and pulled them back to her desk.

Morgan nodded in thanks, knowing something wasn't right with Reid.

"You gave me some of yours?" He asked, still confused and dazed. His speech was slowed, and every word took effort to articulate. He rubbed his eyes to rid them of a fog he couldn't blink away. "Do you always do that?"

"Sorry." Emily chuckled, apologizing for the amount of times she slipped some of her work load to the genius who get it done much faster.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Morgan asked, trying to press the back of his hands to Reid's forehead to check his temperature.

Reid recoiled violently, and swatted his hand away.
"I'm-I'm fine." He restated, having stuttered because he rushed through the words instead of patiently fixing each syllable.

"Alright." Morgan said reluctantly. He walked back to his desk, but kept an eye on the other man, as did Emily. They both exchanged looks every now and then, silently discussing Reid's state.

About two hours later, Reid did nothing but go down hill. He had gotten through five files which was bad. Morgan had been eyeing him the whole time, and he was reading incredibly slow. Like a normal-human-pace slow. He knew he didn't want any pity, but Reid didn't need pity, be needed an evaluation.

Morgan walked back up to Reid's desk, startling him slightly.
"Are you sick?" He asked bluntly.

"Huh?" Reid replied, not really processing that question. His heart pounded in his ears so loudly that he felt it.

"Are. You. Sick?" Morgan said again, slower.

Reid stood up, about to defend himself, when his eyes rolled back. He was partially conscious, but he was down.
Morgan sprung into action, catching him before he managed to head butt his own desk. It was good he feel forward.

"Hotch! Gideon!" Morgan called out, alerting not only the two unit chiefs, but also everyone else. Emily was down next to Morgan, and JJ and Garcia were coming into the bullpen, confused.

"What is it, Morgan?" Hotch called down from the upper deck of the bullpen, stopping in his tracks when he saw Morgan and Reid on the floor. He ran down to them, Gideon following suit.

The entire BAU gathered around the youngest member, who was on the floor.
Gideon got the closest, obviously the most worried. He pressed his hand to his forehead, and almost recoiled it back from the heat.

"His temperature is crazy." Gideon sighed, exasperated. "Did you know?" He asked, targeted towards Morgan.

"Not really. But I knew something was wrong. I'm sorry." He replied.

"Get him to the hospital." Gideon demanded.

"9-1-1?" Garcia's asked.

"Yes." Hotch answered, he elevated Reid's head onto Gideon's knee.

"Are you sure we should do that?" Morgan asked, "Wouldn't that remove blood form the head?"

"He might need that." Hotch urged.

"We don't even know what's wrong." Morgan returned.

"Shut up!" Gideon shouted, "It's just the flu. He's had if for a few days now. It just went untreated." He calmed everyone down quickly. "Fevers hit him harder because of his special brain. He'll be ok."

"Someone take him outside, in front of the building. It'll be easier for the paramedics." Hotch ordered.
Gideon tried prying him form ground, but needed the help from Hotch and Morgan.

Morgan had Reid's arm over his shoulder, holding him up, and walked him to the elevator. Gideon, Hotch, JJ, Garcia, and Emily followed them, helping Morgan hold him up.

"Are you sure it's the flu? Can it really get this bad?" Morgan asked, "He was acting strange earlier."

"It's fine Morgan." Gideon assured, "I knew about it when he came to work a few days ago, obviously sick. He didn't want to tell anyone, so I didn't say anything. You know how he is."

"Yeah." Morgan sighed, not worried as much anymore.

The paramedics carried him into the ambulance and fed him oxygen. A few minutes after that, he woke up somewhat. He was mildly conscious, but not enough to talk.
He looked around aimlessly, and coughed a few times. He swatted away any IVs the paramedics attempted to put in and tried to remove the oxygen mask a few times.

I guess this is what happens when you don't get sick for five years and you're a workaholic. You crash with the flu and pass out in the middle of the work place.