Spencer was packing his bag in the living room while he was waiting for Derek to come out of the bedroom. He checked his watch. "Derek, if you're not out here in the next ten minutes, we're going to be late, and I'll be damned if I'm late to work because you're taking too long trying to put an outfit together. If the team knew about us, they'd call you the girl in the relationship."
When that went unanswered, he raised an eyebrow, walking to the bedroom and knocking. "Derek? Everything okay in there?"
He pushed open the door and saw the bedroom was empty, but the door to the bathroom was open.
He sighed, walking in and leaning against the wall. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"
He groaned, reaching up and flushing. "I'm not sick. I don't get sick."
"Then why are you puking?"
He shrugged slightly, getting up and walking over to the sink, brushing his teeth. "I'm fine."
Spencer walked over to him, resting the back of his hand against Derek's forehead.
He took his toothbrush out. "What are you doing?"
"Shh," Spencer said, frowning. "You're warm and you were just sick. Derek, get back in bed."
"Excuse me?"
"You're running a fever, you just got sick, and you were up coughing half the night."
"How do you know that?"
"I may sleep like a rock, but I couldn't sleep through the bed shaking and you whimpering. Now get back in bed."
Derek sighed. "Can I at least call out first?"
"Fine, call Hotch, let him know you're sick, and then you're going to bed."
While Spencer was out in the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee into a travel mug, Derek was on the phone with Hotch.
"Yeah, Morgan?"
He sighed, clearing his throat. "Hey, Hotch. Just wanted to let you know I'm not going to be in today."
"Is everything okay?"
He winced, rubbing his neck and clearing his throat again. "Yeah, I was just – I was up half the night coughing with stomach cramps, and I woke up with a fever this morning. Then I got sick and decided it's definitely not a day to be sitting in my office with the broken air conditioning."
"Definitely not. Feel better."
"Thanks." He set his phone on the nightstand, groaning.
Spencer walked in, setting cold medicine on the nightstand. "Take a dose of that, and then take it every six hours."
He nodded, taking out two of the pills and popping them in his mouth, swallowing and wincing.
He also set down a water bottle and put a cold compress on Derek's forehead. "I want you to get work out of your head. Concentrate on feeling better. Enjoy watching Sportscenter and whatever else it is you do on days off when I'm not here." He bent down, giving Derek a quick kiss. "I love you."
"Love you too, Pretty Boy."
Spencer smiled, shouldering his bag and walking out.
Walking into work that morning, Spencer met Garcia as he walked off the elevator.
"Hey, Boy Wonder. Did you get the text I sent you this weekend?"
He smiled. "The one about the Doctor Who convention? Yes, and I can't wait. Did you get the tickets?"
"Bought them the second they went on sale. Which Doctor are you going to be?"
He chewed on his cheek, thinking. "I think I'm going with Four. I recently read a book on knitting, and I feel like I could definitely replicate his scarf perfectly. What about you?"
"I'm doing Eleven, for sure. If anyone can pull off a fez, come on, it's going to be me."
He walked to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee and putting in the sugar. "Indeed." He quickly took a sip. "No offense, but why am I the first person you're talking to? Usually, every morning, you wait for Derek. He says 'good morning', you say 'I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff', and you share your witty banter back and forth until Hotch tells you to go to work."
She pouted. "Yes, that's how I would start my morning, but unfortunately, the statuesque god of sculpted thunder called in sick this morning. Supposedly he has this really nasty stomach bug and he's at home all day today."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's unfortunate."
"So you're going to be my target today."
He smiled nervously. "Fantastic, as long as it's about plans for the convention."
"You know me so well." She kissed her hand, placing it on his cheek and patting it before walking out of the bullpen and toward her lair.
Looking through the pile of files on his desk, he sighed, taking one off the top and opening it.
"However will we survive a day without Derek Morgan attempting to pry into our personal lives?" Emily asked, leaning back in her own seat.
Spencer smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. "I guess we'll actually get our work done for a change." He set down his cup, looking at his case file. "And it's going to be unusually quiet."
JJ smiled. "However will we fill the void?"
Spencer shrugged slightly. "We could always engage in small talk. I watched this really interesting documentary on-"
"And, suddenly, silence doesn't seem so bad."
Spencer set down his fourth case file of the day and cleared his throat.
"Everything okay over there, genius?"
He looked up and saw Emily, her attention away from her work. "Yeah, I'm fine." He took a sip of his coffee, wincing.
"…You sure?"
He nodded. "Positive." He scanned his desk. "Do you have my fax from the Los Angeles PD? I could've sworn it came in."
She thumbed through the faxes on her own desk. "Nope, nothing from LA."
He frowned, looking through his own pile again and finding it, putting it in his folder.
JJ walked over to his desk, knocking on it. "Knock knock, I'm here to see the genius."
He blinked, glancing up at her. "Yes?"
"We're all going out to lunch together, Rossi's buying. Are you in?"
He thought about it and quickly shook his head, wrapping an arm around his stomach. "No thanks, I had a big breakfast."
"Okay. Do you want me to grab you something for later?"
"Um, yeah, I'd love some soup – chicken noodle if they have it, though I'm fine with anything else."
"Sure thing, is that all?"
He nodded. "That should be good."
She ruffled his hair before grabbing her wallet off her desk and walking out.
While the team was at lunch, Spencer spent most of the time trying to make it to the bottom of his pile. Unfortunately, shortly before he made it to the bottom, he shot up from his desk, running to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. As he knelt in front of the toilet, he groaned, whimpering and silently cursing Derek. Once he finished, he walked over to the mirror, catching his reflection and shaking his head.
Derek Morgan, if you got me sick, I hate you.
He washed his face and rinsed out his mouth before walking back to his desk, grabbing another case file to look through.
When the team came back, JJ set a bag on his desk. "One chicken noodle soup."
He smiled slightly. "Thanks."
She raised an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his desk. "Are you okay today?"
"I'm fine, why?"
"For one, you're distracted as all hell, you turned down a free Rossi lunch which nobody does-"
"It's Morgan not being here," Emily chimed in.
JJ smirked. "You miss being teased, don't you?"
He rolled his eyes. "No, I'm fine with actually being treated like a human for a change."
JJ rested the back of her hand against Spencer's forehead, pausing.
"What are you doing, JJ? Stop."
She shook her head. "Spence, you're burning up."
"I'm fine. It's just the fact that the air conditioner is broken in here." He swatted her hand away, looking back at his case file.
"Is that why you've been walking around with an arm around your stomach. Either you have crushed ribs you're not telling us about, or your stomach's bugging you."
"Working with a bunch of profilers sucks," he commented, scanning his case file, "and apparently, we've thrown our moratorium on inner-team profiling out the window."
JJ glanced at him. "There's a difference between a moratorium and a diagnosis."
"Diagnosis of what? I'm fine." He cleared his throat, wincing and trying to cover a cough.
Emily shook her head. "Not buying it. Reid, go home."
He winced, clearing his throat and coughing again. "I'm almost done with all of my cases, I'll go home once they're finished."
"If you stay any longer and don't go home and take some cold medicine, you'll be in the hospital, because momma bear Garcia is going to find out and take you there."
He sighed, defeated. "I still have three cases."
Emily reached over the desk, grabbing them out of his pile. "And now you don't. Go home and get some sleep."
He got up, shouldering his bag and taking out his car keys. "Can someone tell Hotch I'm leaving?"
"On it," JJ said, patting his shoulder and getting up.
He sighed, walking out to the elevators and pressing the down button.
He walked up to the apartment, unlocking the door and walking inside. After quickly greeting Clooney, he kicked off his shoes, closing the door and locking it. He set his bag on the couch, before walking into the bedroom and lying down on the bed, pulling the blankets above him.
Derek raised an eyebrow, opening one eye and looking at him. "What brings you home? It's not 5:00 yet?"
He groaned, curling closer. "You got me sick and you suck." He reached over, grabbing the cold medicine and popping the pills in his mouth. He rested his head on Derek's chest, pulling the blankets up. "Now, cuddle."
Derek smiled slightly, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer, kissing the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Pretty Boy. But on the bright side, we get some much needed alone time."
Spencer rolled his eyes. "With both of us puking on and off, trust me, it's nothing glamorous."
Garcia walked into the bullpen, frowning at Spencer's empty desk. "Where's my 187?"
JJ looked up. "I made him go home. He was sick as a dog and wouldn't admit it."
"Of course not. He never does. How bad is he?"
Emily exhaled. "Let's see. He's been walking around holding his stomach all day, he was coughing, he was running a fever, and Anderson was nice enough to share that he saw Reid run to the bathroom on lunch and there were some less than pleasant noises coming from in there."
"Poor Boy Wonder." She frowned. "That stomach bug needs to stop going around. It hit everyone on the fourth floor last week, then Derek, and now Rei-" she paused. "Has he spent any time with Derek over the last week?"
JJ shook her head. "Nothing more than casual conversations about case files, and of course, Derek picking on him."
"Why, what's up, PG?"
She smirked. "Something deliciously juicy." She took out her phone, calling Spencer.
He reached over to his phone, answering it. "Hello?" he whimpered, eyes still closed.
"How you feeling, Boy Wonder?"
He sighed. "Like I got hit by an eighteen wheeler truck and backed over again."
She smiled, lowering his voice. "At least you have some company."
"Yeah, at least I-" he stilled, "wait, what?"
Emily looked over at JJ. "What's going on?"
"I don't know, she said company-" she gasped. "No!"
Spencer sighed. "Garcia, your whispers aren't very quiet. How many people know?"
Garcia scanned the bullpen, where JJ and Emily were both looking toward her.
She winced. "…Three? Five if Rossi and Hotch aren't completely blind."
He groaned, reaching over and hitting Derek. "You had to get me sick."
"Sorry, Pretty Boy," he mumbled, kissing the back of his head.
Spencer sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Get well soon, my pretties. I expect amazingly juicy details once you two are better."
He hung up, groaning and burying his head in the pillow. "This is all your fault."