Sick Day

-/-/-

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or anything else copyrighted, for that matter.

Author's Note: So, first off, this story is completely pointless. Just a sick fic. Second, this has been sitting around unfinished forever! I finally finished it, though. Enjoy, hopefully!

Also: slight spoilers for Amplification.

-/-/-

The first things Jennifer Jareau saw when she awoke were the glowing, green numbers of the digital clock on her nightstand. They read 5:30. It was half an hour before Spencer Reid, her lover and housemate, usually got up and another hour and half before she, herself, even considered rising on a day off. So she wondered why she was awake. Then, it became painfully clear what had woken her up.

Reid was coughing. Hard. So hard, in fact, that the bed was shaking as he attempted to clear his airway. So hard that it made JJ's chest hurt just to listen to him. She was surprised; he'd had the beginnings of a cold yesterday, but she didn't imagine it would have progressed so quickly. She listened to her lover's labored breathing for a moment before she rolled over and looked at him in the pale dawn light which, in turn, made him look pale. Paler than usual, at least. Turning on her bedside lamp, she realized that he was still asleep, if not fitfully so. "Spence," She said quietly, gently shaking Reid into wakefulness. "C'mon, wake up."

He woke with little resistance and promptly sat up and sneezed, luckily managing to turn his head away from JJ, and went into another bout of coughing. "This is some cold you've got, Spence." JJ said after Reid had quieted.

Reid simply nodded and leaned back against his pillows, shutting his eyes. "Are you okay?" JJ ventured, pushing his hair back off his forehead.

The ailing genius cleared his throat and spoke without opening his eyes. "I seem to be experiencing slight difficulty breathing." He mumbled, and then took a deep breath as if to illustrate his point.

Sure enough, JJ could hear the wheeze that seemed to have worked itself up overnight. She frowned, thinking back to the scare Reid had given everyone when he'd contracted anthrax. Upon Reid's release from the hospital, the doctor had warned them that the infection could weaken his respiratory system and that future infections could be an issue. "How much is a "slight difficulty"?" She asked, still having yet to remove her hand from her lover's forehead.

"I'm not gasping for air and…" He began to sit up and put a hand out to grab JJ's as she pulled it away and used to steady himself as he swayed even in his sitting position.

"You're dizzy." JJ said matter-of-factly when he paused to gather his bearings.

"And," Reid continued as though JJ hadn't spoken. "I'm not going to the hospital, if that's what you're going to suggest."

JJ sighed but allowed Reid to release her hand when the dizziness seemed to subside. "After the anthrax, the doctor said…" She began.

"I'm well aware of the doctor's warnings. But this is just a cold. I'll be fine." Reid cut her off, obviously in no mood to argue.

JJ, on the other hand, was in no mood to be talked down. "If your breathing doesn't improve by this afternoon, we're going to the emergency room."

"I hardly think…" Reid started, but this time JJ cut him off.

"No arguments. If it doesn't get better by noon, we're going. If you last that long." The liaison added, frowning as Reid took another rattling breath.

"You're confidence in me is greatly appreciated." The male agent sent a sideways glare at her.

Ignoring the look she got, JJ gave him a crooked grin. "You should just thank your lucky stars today is Saturday and we shouldn't have to worry about work."

"That's not lucky. Yesterday was Friday, Saturday generally follows suit." Reid frowned. "Luck has absolutely nothing to do with the order of the days of the week."

JJ shook her head and reached over to squeeze Reid's hand gently. "Whatever you say, Spence." She said in a placating tone and continuing to speak before he could start on an indignant tirade on how, no, really, luck had nothing to do with it. "You're going to take it easy today, alright?"

Reid shut his mouth against the argument that had been building up about the days of the week and then leaned back against the wall with a loud cough. "I have no argument with that." He murmured.

"I didn't think so." JJ smiled slightly and rubbed her lover's arm soothingly. "Let's try and get some more rest, okay?"

Nodding and already half-way back to sleep, Reid tugged his pillow back into a comfortable position and shut his eyes. Not far behind him, JJ laid down and drifted into the slumber of the sleep-deprived with her hand still on the genius's shoulder.

-/-/-

After a few hours of fitful sleep- on Reid's end, anyway- the couple was up for the day. JJ had attempted to insist that Reid stay in bed, but Reid remained adamant in his wish to get out of the bed. Finally, the blonde relented and forced a blanket into his hands as she sat him down on the couch. After admonishing that he not move around too much, JJ went to the kitchen to scrounge up a cold-appropriate breakfast.

"How do you feel about oatmeal?" She called out of the kitchen after a minute or two of searching.

JJ waited for a minute, but no reply came. "Spence?" She called, walking over to the door leading to the living room. "I asked how you felt about…" She trailed off, finding the living room empty and the blanket she'd given Reid folded neatly on the couch where he'd been sitting. "Damnit, Spence," She muttered as she walked into the living room.

Pausing and listening, she heard the tell-tale sounds of a sneeze attack and a running shower coming from the bathroom in their bedroom. She followed the noise until she was at the bathroom door. "Your attention span is worse than a five-year-olds' sometimes, you know that?" JJ asked as she stepped inside the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Reid's voice came from behind the shower curtain, nasally and slightly muffled by running water.

"I told you to stay on the couch and what did you do?" The blonde crossed her arms over her chest, though Reid couldn't see her.

The genius poked his head around the curtain. Though he was now dripping with water, he looked much the same- pale, red-eyed, and halfway miserable. "I went to take a shower. It should help with the congestion in my respiratory system." He punctuated the end of his statement with a fit of coughing and a grimace.

JJ sagged slightly against the counter and glared at Reid, thought there was nothing in it. "You're impossible to be mad at when you're sick." She stated.

"It's part of my nefarious plot." Reid deadpanned, wiggling his fingers at her and flicking drops of water on the floor.

"Uh huh." JJ grinned slightly and shook her head. "So how do you feel about oatmeal?"

"I feel as though it is generally thick and rather lumpy. I also feel as though it is completely unnecessary at this point in time." Reid replied with a shiver, shutting the shower curtain again.

"Spence…"

"But if you're insistent on my eating, oatmeal sounds fine." The genius added quickly, sensing a lecture of JJ-caliber coming on- the woman didn't go on them often, but when she did, she was harder to quiet than Reid.

"Great," JJ smiled winningly. "I'll have some ready for you by the time you're out."

"Thank you."

The liaison headed back out of the bathroom and shut the door just in time to muffle another sneeze.

-/-/-

The morning wore on somewhat uneventfully, with JJ forcing Reid to not do anything he normally would have to occupy his mind ("Reading something that thick in Russian cannot be relaxing, Spence.") but allowing him to make the movie selections. She made sure he drank water, made him check his temperature periodically, winced whenever he went into a coughing fit and performed all other duties appropriate for a natural mothering-type tending to her ill lover.

Things seemed to be going well enough, though in the occasional quiet moment, JJ would have sworn she heard Reid breathing becoming more erratic. It always evened out before she said anything, however. Then, at a quarter to 11, Reid surprised her by turning to her and talking- talking quite a lot. He spoke quickly, but allowed her time to answer. He didn't go on about anything in particular, but rather, everything conceivable. From the weather to the movie they were watching to the oatmeal she'd made, he simply kept talking. And JJ knew from experience, this was the type of talking he did when he was nervous. "Are you okay, Spence?" She asked when Reid paused mid-sentence to take a few deep breaths for the third time in as many minutes.

"I…" Reid breathed in and out slowly again, "I'm having a little trouble inspiring air."

"What do you mean?" JJ asked, sitting forward slightly.

"Can't quite breathe in all the way. Well… not having trouble… breathing in, exactly, just… keeping the air in my lungs seems to be a bit of a… problem." Reid replied breathlessly, tugging slightly at the collar of his t-shirt.

JJ paused to chew this bit of information over for a moment. "I think we should go to the hospital."

"No, no, I'm fine." Reid took another deep breath. "I just need to keep my breathing regular and I'll be okay." At that moment, he seemed to hit a catch in his breathing and began to cough. When he was through, he was gasping for air.

"Spence, you're not fine. I know you remember what the doctor told you after the anthrax- and for once in your life, you're going to listen to your doctor." JJ said as she stood up off the couch.

Finally able to breathe at a semi-regular rate, Reid didn't bother to argue, but went to the bedroom to put on some proper pants, rather than his flannel pajama bottoms.

-/-/-

The nurse at the desk raised an eyebrow at them as they approached. JJ supposed they made a rather odd sight, her in hole-in-the-knee jeans and a tank top with her hair in a messy bun (her usual day-off attire) and Reid rumpled, pale, and dressed in an old t-shirt and wrinkled pair of cords. Despite the look, JJ explained the situation, mentioning an ambiguous "respiratory infection" Reid had had some time ago which had caused minor damage to his lungs, and the nurse had been understanding.

After some paperwork-filing, the nurse, Becca, led them to a tiny room with a chair and a padded examination table with a pillow. "We're a bit busy today, but someone should get to you soon. Just sit tight and buzz if your condition worsens." She said, gesturing to a button on the wall and then breezing out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Well… that was helpful." Reid said, sitting down heavily on the padded, paper-covered table, which crinkled loudly beneath him.

"I guess, since you're not dying, you're not really an immediate priority." JJ shrugged, sitting down in the chair beside the table.

"For once." Reid added with a smirk.

"Mm… how does it feel, not to be rushed by doctors upon entering the hospital?"

"Rather odd, but I'm not going to complain."

The two settled into silence, punctuated by the occasional fit of coughing on Reid's part, and stayed that way for close to half an hour. "I know other people need help, but just how busy are they out there?" JJ asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Perhaps there was some sort of accident…" Reid suggested half-heartedly.

"Maybe they just forgot about us." JJ replied, now looking pointedly at the door.

"You said it yourself, I'm not priority. I'll be fine until they come."

Another 10 minutes passed. "Though they might get to us faster if I wasn't fine…" Reid began to say.

"Don't even think about it." JJ cut him off.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Reid replied loftily with a small smile.

"Mmhmm. Sure." The blonde smiled back.

After another five minutes, JJ began tapping her foot on the floor. One minute later, she started singing. "100 bottles of beer on the wall… 100 bottles of beer. You take one down, pass it around…" She paused and looked over at Reid, who was not staring at her. "99 bottles of beer on the wall."

Reid raised an eyebrow at her, but she kept singing. "99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. You take one down, pass it around… 98 bottles of beer on the wall."

By the time she reached 96 bottles, Reid chimed in quietly. His singing voice was by no means as melodic as hers and he had to stop every few verses to take a couple of deep breaths, but neither paid that any mind as they worked their way down to 80 bottles of beer. Just as they were about to sing about the 79th bottle, a quick knock came on the door, and it opened without waiting for a response.

The next part happened rather quickly, in comparison to the previous 45 minutes. The doctor came in and introduced himself, assessed Reid and settled on the option of a nebulizer to administer medication to help the genius. The nebulizer turned out to be a pipe attached to a tube which delivered a foul-tasting (according to Reid in a later assessment) misty medication that the agent sat breathing in for about 10 minutes. It left him with an unpleasant, jittery sensation and the doctor told him to "sit tight" once more and they would be back to check on him shortly.

The song resumed and intervals of time were now measured in bottles. By the time they got to 60 bottles of beer, the doctor returned to do just as he had promised. "I'm going to prescribe you a few days worth of prednisone, and that should help with any further breathing problems." The doctor told Reid, who shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. "And if you have any more trouble, just come back we'll try again."

Reid looked as if that was the last thing he was going to do, but he nodded anyway and hopped off the table. JJ thanked the doctor, with Reid echoing the sentiment, and they gladly made their way back out to the car. They hummed away 17 more bottles of beer on the drive home.

After a can of soup and another movie at the apartment, JJ went out to retrieve the prescription from the pharmacy. That evening, after a dinner of pancakes ("The ultimate cold food" JJ claimed), Reid sat glaring at the unassuming bottle of steroids. "You really should take one, you know. It'll help." JJ told him, placing a hand over his.

Reid sighed. "I know…"

"You'll be fine. And I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere." JJ added.

"You live here, where else would you go?" Reid asked, though JJ could tell it wasn't a serious question.

She nudged him gently in the side and he picked up the prescription bottle. He took the allotted dosage and JJ resumed singing, which he joined in promptly. 20 bottles later, when his singing stopped, JJ looked over to see he had fallen asleep against the arm of the couch and was snoring quietly.

Smiling, she adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and managed to wedge a pillow under his head without waking him from his heavy, cold-induced slumber. She sat down again, leaning on the other arm rest and, as though it were some sort of odd lullaby, continued singing softly. "24 bottles of beer on the wall… 24 bottles of beer…"

-/-/-

Author's Note: Geeze! This took months to write. Months! And I thank Red K 5 for urging me to post this!

Anyway, I based this one off of personal experience; I have asthma and have been to the emergency room a few times to be 'nebulized.' Usually in the middle of the night. My dad would usually take me and we would always have to wait forever (really, we watched the clock, it took hours) and we invariably began singing "100 bottles of beer on the wall." And I completely jinxed myself with this- a day or so after I finally finished writing, I actually ended up having to go to the emergency room for an asthma flair-up…