Derek stretched out his back against the ridged, wooden headboard. Reid's head was mostly on the pillow across Derek's lap with his lanky, twitching fingers wrapped around his upper thigh like a kid clutching his teddy bear through a nightmare. The shaking had stopped about an hour or so after he fell asleep. Derek wiped away the sheen of sweat forming on Reid's forehead with the back of his hand. He stretched to each side, trying to give his back some relief. It was going to last much longer in this position.

He let his hand push loose strands of hair that were sticking to Reid's face with the rest behind his ear. Derek tried to smooth out the worry lines in the center of his brow and the lines at the corner of his sunken eyes. His dark circles were worsening as his already pale skin became paler.

Bzzzzz Bzzzzz

Derek looked over at the nightstand to see Reid's phone lighting up and skittering in bursts towards the edge. When did he get that from the kitchen? He learned over slowly as to wake Reid to save the phone from a detrimental drop.

Text from Colby

3 Missed Calls

1 Voicemail

Derek lifted the pillow an inch off his lap and tried to wriggle out from under it without jostling the sleeping man.

"Hmm?" Reid mumbled. His eyelids fluttered. He shielded himself from what little light was coming in from the widows.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Derek asked. Gently raking his fingers through the younger man's wet hair.

"I feel like hell. How long was I asleep?" He unwrapped his hand from around Morgan's thigh and sat up—looking at the balled-up bedding, his hand, the wall (anything but his eyes).

"A couple hours. You should try and sleep some more. I have to make a call, but I'll be right back, okay?" Derek said.

"Uh, okay." Reid balled up the pillow, put it under his head, and curled into himself.

Out in the living room, Derek paced while flipping Reid's phone in his fingers.

Should I read the text? Should I listen to the voicemail? Should I respond? What would happen if I didn't check? He thought to himself.

It began ringing in his hand. He jumped so quickly he almost dropped it.

"Damn, baby girl. You scared me there," he said.

"How'd I scare you? And why are you answering boy genius' phone and not your own?"

"I must have left it on the nightstand," he replied. "I've been wondering what to do with his phone."

"I'm listening," Garcia said.

"He has three missed calls, a voicemail, and a text from Colby. Should I look at them? And if I do, what do I do then? Respond?" Derek sighed, sitting down in the armchair.

"Sugar, what is getting you all in a twist? The Derek Morgan I know would make sure Reid is safe and has nothing to worry about—especially drug dealing sex pixies. And yes, you can quote me on that?"

"What would I do without you?" He asked, smiling to himself.

"Crash and burn," she quipped. "How's our boy doing?"

"Surprising well after a hell of a lot of unloading emotional trauma and explanations. He's been sleeping for a few hours now. Probably the best thing for him."

"I expect you to be taking very good care of him. I'll be over tonight with comfort and rations. Keep him safe 'til then, got it?" She ordered.

"Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't dream of harming your precious baby boy," he laughed. "Thank you."

The phone clicked.

Missed Calls: Colby Colby Colby

"You have one new voice message," the recording said. "First message."

"Hey cutie!" Colby said on the recording. He sounded older over the phone. "Haven't heard from you since you left last night. Hangover? Good thing you read that what-ever-it-was on how to deal with that. Well, I'll come by tonight to see how you're doing. And oh! I'll be sure to bring a little fun along with me. Love you!"

"End of new messages." There was a pause. "To listen to your messages, Press One—" Derek pressed one. Colby's message repeated. "Saved messages."

"Hey, Pretty Boy," he heard himself say. "You better get that cute butt of yours down to the tarmac. We'll be leaving in a few minutes and how could I stand such a long flight without that face to look at." The message was three months old.

"Next saved message."

"Reid, pick up your phone. I know we have the morning off thanks to that last case, but Garcia wants us all to have brunch together. I can give you a ride, if you want. Call me back?" He heard us six-months-previous self say.

"Next saved message."

"Spencer, I'm here for you. You've been through a lot and you aren't alone. Just give me a call and I'll be right over, okay?" This message was at least a year old.

Derek went through the motions of deleting Colby's message before returning to pacing.

"Hey," Spencer said.

Derek spun to see him standing in his bedroom doorway. His bare arms had been covered up by an oversized green cardigan he'd never seen him wear before.

"Hey," Derek said after staring for a moment. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Tell that to my bladder. BY the way, Garcia keeps calling you. Your phone's on the nightstand."

"Thanks."

Spencer held close to the wall and made his way into his small bathroom. He closed the door behind himself.

"Make sure to keep the door unlocked, man," Derek said from the living room. "Don't want me panicking and knocking it down."

Spencer rolled his eyes and lifted the toilet seat. After, he filled the marbled sink with cool water and submerged his face in it, lifting up for a breath, and then repeating the process. Each dip took some of the pressure out from his head and helped him ignore the aches in his sides. The pain was starting.

"Knock, knock!" They could hear Garcia yelling from the other side of Reid's front door.

Derek got up and opened it. She was fully laden with bags of comfort food, blankets, Gatorade, and tea. He helped her get through the door and set down all the bags in the kitchen. Spencer watched from his blanket cocoon on the couch. He left the Morgan-shaped gap open ever though readjusting might help the pain in his stomach. Garcia ran over to him once her arms were empty and gently hugged him. Her hands fluttered over his head, shoulders, and so-on.

"How are you doing? How are you feeling? What are your symptoms so far?" She blathered.

"I feel terrible," he said slowly. "I hurt everywhere—especially my stomach. Thankfully there hasn't been any vomiting yet." He motioned to the mixing bowl balanced on a stack of books on the floor. "Warning: the irritability is getting worse. So is the anxiety."

"Basically, don't worry about what he says or does for the next day. It's nothing against you, baby girl," Derek interjected. Reid huffed.

"Well, I'm glad you boys seem to have things under control," she said while crossing into the kitchen and getting some of the Gatorade for Reid. "There's also some food in there. I know you might not want to eat, but you need to."

Derek walked back into Reid's bedroom while Garcia fluttered about him with all the home remedies and tricks she read about all day. He locked the door before sitting on the foot of the bed. He took Reid's phone out of his pocket.

Hey sexy! When do you want me over? You know if you don't give a time I'll just show up when I feel like it!

- C

Derek typed out a message. Read it over. Backspaced. And typed it again. After repeating the process a few times, he finally hit send. That better keep him away.

"Derek! If you want any food you better get that sexy ass out here!" Garcia yelled from the kitchen. She closed the microwave door and set Reid's kitchen table. There was Chinese, Italian, and Mexican food along with three places complete with plate, napkin, cup, and fork.

"Don't you think you're over doing it, darling?" Derek asked when he made it into the kitchen.

"Please," she said. "Nothing is too much for my boys. You wanna go get Reid? He's in the bathroom."

"As long as you put some of that lo mien on my plate," he responded, walking down the hallway.

He knocked on the door.

"Hey, Pretty Boy. Garcia's got quite the spread out here for us," Derek said through the door. "You feeling okay enough to come out?" He pressed his ear to the door to listen. I already checked every place in the bathroom. Don't panic, he thought to himself. He could here mumbling and moaning from the other side. "If you don't answer, I'm coming in."

No reply. Derek turned the handle and slowly opened the door—giving Reid a second to react in case he was just indisposed. Reid was standing with most of his weight on his hands holding the sides of the sink.

"How are you doing, man?" Derek asked. He stepped in and closed the door behind himself.

"Well, seeing as I'm going through withdrawal and will probably need to cut ties with my friends and boyfriend, I'm doing great. Thanks for asking," Reid snapped back. He bent foreword and splashed water on his face, raking it through his hair as well.

"I know this is hard, but you aren't losing all your friends. You still have us—your family. I'm not saying this is gunna get easier anytime soon, but you aren't doing it alone," Derek said. He stepped up behind Reid and lightly massaged his shoulders. "I get that your pissy and depressed and in pain, but it's going to pass."

"Your food is getting cold!" Garcia yelled from the kitchen.

"I guess we better not keep her waiting," Reid said. He sighed, patted Morgan's hand, and walked out. "Thanks," Morgan heard him mumble.

Let me know what you think! Where do you think this is going? Thank you so much for reading! :)