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Aaron Hotchner had a headache, and was out of any sort of painkiller. It was nearing evening, and he had the knowledge that Strauss was coming in so he knew he'd be staying late. Jack was with Jessica anyway; so Hotch would've stayed late no matter what.

Dinner had been delivered earlier and now Hotch was awaiting Strauss and going through all of the files that had mysteriously accumulated on his desk since that morning. He realized, after ransacking his office for the little bottle of pills, and subsequently finding it in the trash can, empty, that he wouldn't have time for an errand before Strauss got there.

So it was time for desperate measures.

He peeked out his window. Morgan, JJ and Prentiss had flown, Garcia was very busy with…something, he couldn't remember what, but he remembered her telling him that she didn't want to be bothered tonight. He wasn't about to send Rossi on such a silly errand, so that left—

He walked to his door and opened it, walking quickly, so much so he was almost jogging, to the bullpen.

Just as he walked down the steps, he caught sight of Strauss emerging from the elevators.

Inanely, his first idea was to hide, but instead he walked faster to Dr. Reid's desk.

"Reid," he whispered, rather urgently, placing a hand on Reid's shoulder and causing him to start.

"Sorry," Hotch apologized immediately.

Reid was sitting on, not at, his desk, something that was not unusual for him. His hair had swung into his eyes as he sat there, perusing the paperwork on his lap with keen eyes.

"Hotch," he said, tucking his hair back and putting aside the paperwork.

"Listen, I have a meeting with Strauss that should be happening—" he turned his head and Reid looked with him, to see Strauss stride past, her nose in a thick sheaf of papers—"now. It should be happening now. My reason for coming over is that I have a headache and I'm out of painkillers."

Reid's hands immediately went to his bag, and in a moment he pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen, but when he shook it, it was ominously silent.

"Damn," they said at the same time. Strauss had reached Hotch's office and walked right in. Hotch wondered what the look on her face was when she realized he wasn't there. She'd probably gone in talking, too.

"Please, can you get something?"

"Sure," Reid was already standing up. "I was wanting a walk anyway, and I don't dare go home for a few hours," and he indicated the paperwork on his desk.

"Thanks. I don't think the meeting will take too long, so she should be gone before you're back. Just walk right in."

"Will do, boss man," Reid saluted and strode off, seemingly unaware of what he had called Hotch.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at the unexpected moniker borrowed from Garcia, but since his lips were twitching as well, he decided to let it go.

Strauss was grueling. She was only there for fifteen minutes, and she was grueling. Hotch could literally feel his headache worsen, and he couldn't help checking his watch every thirty seconds. Strauss noticed and it was something she didn't appreciate. She finally stood, in a mild huff over Hotch's apparent reluctance to talk to her, and said goodbye rather abruptly. Hotch couldn't muster the perseverance to see her out, instead his hands went to his forehead and vainly tried to massage away the headache.

He listened to the activity outside, closing his eyes tight. There was a vague chatter from the few agents still in the bullpen. Female laughter and loud male voices. There were footsteps and giggling and finally, the group left. It was silent, and then there was a knock, and Rossi came in.

"I'm taking off," he reported. "Just wondering if you'll be doing the same."

"No," Hotch told him. "I'm waiting on something, and Jack is with Jessica this weekend so I thought I'd stay late."

Rossi shook his head. "Just because he's with Jessica doesn't mean that you have to stay late."

"I'm waiting on something," Hotch repeated, and smothered a yawn.

"Who cares? Just come in early tomorrow." Rossi remained disapproving and Hotch tried to think of a way to dismiss him. He really didn't need this right now.

"I can't," he said finally, in a flat tone of voice.

Rossi looked surprised at the dismissal, but didn't take it personally. "Long day, hmm? At least everyone else is gone, even Reid. Funny, earlier he gave the impression that he was staying late."

Let's hope Rossi doesn't bump into Reid in the elevators. Now that's a conversation I'd prefer didn't happen.

Hotch finally just glared at Rossi, feeling too tired to continue the discussion. Rossi held up his hands.

"I surrender. Please, don't fry me. I'll go," his tone was ripe with sarcasm as he backed out and shut the door. Hotch could faintly hear his footsteps and then it was mostly silent.

A few minutes later and he heard rapid footsteps made by a tall person wearing sneakers. Hotch bolted upright and just managed stand up before Reid walked in, taking his bag from his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

"I got it," he said, rather breathlessly and handed Hotch the pills and an open water bottle.

Hotch felt a twinge of guilt at keeping Reid from his work and making the man think he had to hurry so. He took them slowly, and downed the pills, draining the water bottle.

Reid was standing there, waiting, and Hotch wasn't sure why.

"Hotch?"

"Hmm?" He asked, sitting back down and running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling warm.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure." It dawned on him, after that flippant answer, that Reid wasn't asking the question lightly.

"Yeah, I mean, sit down," Hotch said, but Reid remained standing, fidgeting with the handle on his bag.

"Hotch."

Hotch straightened even more and gave his full attention to the other man. He couldn't help letting his eyes sweep over him, and noticed the tension, nervousness and…

"You're using again."

"Yeah."

"Same as last time?"

"Yeah."

"What do you need?"

"I think some time off could help." Reid was speaking very softly and avoiding eye contact.

"Reid, I…shouldn't more be said? How long?"

"For a month, now."

"What brought it on?"

"Nothing."

Hotch racked his mind for events in the last month that would have affected Reid so harshly that he would start using again.

"Can I…can I just have some time off?"

"Sure."

"Starting tomorrow, no matter what cases come in?"

"Starting tomorrow." Hotch affirmed, knowing that he should say something more but not knowing what he could say to make Reid open up.

"Thanks." Reid left, and Hotch followed his progress back to his desk, where he took the paperwork from earlier and placed it in his bag.

He watched as Reid walked out of the bullpen and headed to the elevators.

I should really stop him, he thought.

But he didn't. Or rather, he didn't have to.

Reid suddenly turned around and headed back to Hotch's office, and Hotch stood to greet him at the door.

"I don't want to go home." He blurted. "Can I just stay in your guest room for the night?"

"Sure," Hotch said cautiously. "And we'll talk about this tomorrow?"

Reid looked beyond relieved when Hotch granted his request, and even more relieved when Hotch started gathering his things to leave.

"I just don't think I should be alone right now," he said suddenly, quickly. "My mind…it's going crazy. I haven't had any for a few days and I just don't want to go where I'll be too easily tempted to get it. I'd have asked Morgan, but he left early."

"It's fine," Hotch reassured him. "Don't worry about it."

Reid breathed in, out, in, out. "It's too much." He muttered. "It's overwhelming me and I…thanks."

They left together.

A/N: I know the title is lame but I literally had no idea what to call it.

Hotch is harder to write than Reid is. How did I do?