A/N

As per request, a part 2. 😊 I'm not much of a request writer, not because I don't want to please the crowds but because ideas and scenes tend to come when they want to, not necessarily when I want them to. Buuuuuut… here's something, at least. 😊

Blake had taken one sick day right when they got back to DC and had slept for almost fourteen hours that night. It seemed to be all she needed to kick the worst, but Reid was still anxious and unsettled around her, giving her a wide berth the past couple of days. And yesterday he was starting to come down with it himself. As much as Blake knew it wasn't her fault, she still felt guilty about it.

Ridiculously guilty, to be honest.

She groaned and hid her face behind her hands.

"Hey, Blake?" Morgan stood next to her desk. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just… never mind."

"It's all about Reid, isn't it? I know he has a hard time dealing with germs. It's nothing personal, it could have been either one of us. JJ actually made him cry once, when they were in an elevator and she couldn't stop coughing."

"It's not funny," Blake said and lowered her hands.

"No, it's not," Morgan agreed. "But it's not your fault he has this issue, either."

"I know," she said. "I just hate to be the reason he's in distress."

Reid arrived, trudged through the room without saying hello to anyone, sat down by his desk, and looked for all the world as a moping teenager.

Morgan and Blake looked at each other.

"That's not distress. That's sulk," Morgan said.

"Great improvement," Blake said, voice filled with sarcasm. "Now he's angry instead. How comforting."

"Hey, kid," Morgan said. "You alright?"

"Leave me alone," Reid said, sounding painfully hoarse. "I can only breathe out of one nostril and I think I'm dying and it's Alex's fault."

Blake gave Morgan a glance that said: 'see what I'm dealing with here?'

"Sorry I caught a cold. I'll try not to do that again," she replied sourly.

"Next time at least keep it away from me," Reid said.

"You mean I should have told you when we left for the dump site that morning that my throat was sore and I might infect you with the plague if you got in the car with me?"

"Pretty much," Reid muttered and coughed.

Blake counted to ten and reminded herself that he had warned her about his mood in advance. Although 'whiny five-year-old' didn't quite seem to accurately describe this demonstration of sullenness. This was more 'teenager forced to get up early in the morning'.

"Come on," she said and gestured for him to stand up.

"Why? My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton," Reid complained. "So if you'll excuse me I think I'll just sit here being miserable."

He demonstratively put a box of tissues on his desk, took one, and blew his nose.

"You can be miserable at home," Blake said. "I'll even make you chicken soup, although God knows I don't think you deserve it if you're going to act like that."

She had sounded a bit harsher than she intended, and Reid looked up at her with large eyes surrounded by dark circles. The annoyance she felt – which was largely fuelled by guilt – melted away when he looked at her like that. His bottom lip was trembling slightly.

"Come on," she said, a bit softer this time. "Please, let me take you home. I'm sorry I got you sick. I really didn't mean to."

"It's not your fault."

She smirked.

"Oh? I thought you just said it was."

The quivering of his bottom lip became more pronounced.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so tired and I feel so bad."

"I know. Apology accepted," she said. "Now get your things so we can get going."

Reid turned to Morgan.

"You guys should probably get some Lysol and disinfect the bullpen and surrounding areas. Especially door handles. The majority of cold viruses can only survive outside of the human body for an hour, but in some cases, up to 24 hours, plus they stay airborne for…"

"Just go," Morgan chuckled. "He's all yours, Blake, have fun."

As they got into the car, Reid grabbed a tissue and sneezed into it twice, then whimpered like it hurt.

"I think I might actually die from this," he said.

"That's not very scientific," Blake replied. "Have you ever heard of anyone dying from the common cold?"

Reid opened his mouth to respond.

"Not counting secondary infections like pneumonia," Blake caveated, and Reid closed his mouth again while thinking. She felt smug about finally stumping him, but Reid, as always, had an answer.

"While unlikely, if you sneeze or cough hard enough you could end up having a stroke. It has happened."

"Oh my God Reid, you're thinking too much!" Blake said. Reid nodded, with an expression like a sad puppy. "Stop that," she said gently. "Just stop thinking for a while, okay?"

Reid nodded again without arguing, mostly to save his voice.

"Hey, it's alright," she said. "Let go for a while. You'll feel better after you get some sleep."

"I can't sleep," he said. "Nightmares."

"Yes," she said. "I get them too. Especially after the Replicator case. But your body still needs the sleep. With or without nightmares."

She touched his forehead with her palm, moving slowly to allow him to back away if he wanted to, but instead he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the cool, gentle touch.

"You feel warm."

"It's the body's natural response to an invasion…" Reid began, but Blake cut him off.

"Exactly. So just let your body do its job. I'll get you home, and I'll be here if you have nightmares. Okay?"

It was too tempting to pass up. Reid leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. He felt like crap. But at the same time, it felt good to have somebody look after you a bit.

"Sorry I didn't offer you more sympathy," he mumbled with his eyes closed.

"That's alright," Blake said. "I tend to prefer to be pathetic in private anyway. But next time try not to make me feel like Typhoid Mary."

Reid didn't answer. He was already asleep.