Hotch watched his youngest member closely. Reid had been acting strange all day, making his inner profiler curious. Reid had taken the seat in the far back corner of the plane. It was the quietest, darkest, most secluded seat; which Hotch took note of. "I wonder whats bothering him," Rossi said aloud. Rossi was in the seat next to Hotch, and he had failed to notice that he too was paying close attention to Spencer's strange behavior.

Hotch watched as Reid's leg jumped up and down restlessy; taking in how his jittery hands rubbed at his head. "I'm not sure, but something is not right," Hotch stated quietly. Spencer's eyes were focused on a book he had open on his lap, but Hotch had a feeling he wasn't really reading, even though he couldn't confirm that with the dark sunglasses hiding his big eyes. As if to prove Hotch's thoughts, Reid suddenly jerked forward and hurried into the bathroom. Doing a quick sweep of the plane to assure that the others were sleeping, Hotch slowly got up; glancing over his shoulder to take in Rossi's worried face before gently tapping on the bathroom door.

"Reid, it's Hotch," he said gently, "Is it alright if I come in?" Waiting only a minute for a reply, but not getting one, Hotch slowly opened the door. The light was off, but the light from the plane lit up the room enough for him to see Reid kneeling in front of the toilet.

"Shut the door!" Reid squeaked, quickly covering his eyes. Hotch quickly closed the door, leaving the room in darkness.

"Reid, are you okay?" His answer was a dry heave.

Slowly, he crouched down and felt for Reid's arm in the darkness. The younger agent twitched at the contact and froze. "Spencer?" The use of his first name seemed to both surprise and unsettle Reid, enough that he quickly removed himself from under Hotch's hand.

"I..." He began, sucking in a deep breath, then preceded in a rushed whisper, "My head hurts, I can't- my head hurts." Hotch didn't say anything, but his eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to make out Reid's shape. His thin body was curled into itself, wedged between the sink and toilet. His long, slender fingers were buried deep in his hair, and pulling at it. Hotch took out his phone and unlocked it, letting the screen light the room in a gentle glow. Reid's fingers locked more firmly in his hair, and he pulled relentlessly; groaning in frustration.

"Spencer, let go of your hair," Hotch said gently, slowly reaching for the mans wrists and unlocking them from his hair. Reid's hands squeezed his with surprising force, and Hotch let him hold on tightly. The use of his first name seemed to surprise Spencer enough to allow this amount of intimate contact. In the amount of years he'd known Reid, Hotch could probably count on one hand how many times he'd had physical contact with the teams youngest. A few pats on the back, a handshake when they first met, and one hug after... But never something like this. They had never been this close, this confined.

Oddly, he reflected on the nights when Jack was home sick, relying on the comfort that only his daddy could bring. His son would spend the night awake; coughing and crying, while Hotch laid in bed with him. He didn't see Spencer as a child, because he knew Reid could take care of himself. He did, however, have a soft spot for him. It hurt him in a strange way that Reid didn't, and never had, someone who would just take care of him. Someone so painfully innocent and genuinely good deserved love and affection. Being his superior agent, though, Hotch knew that the appropriate boundaries had to be followed. The agency and team might not take to well to him acting as a sergeant father to a fellow profiler. Right now though, in the dark, tiny bathroom of the jet; Hotch really didn't give a damn.

Suddenly, Reid yelped; prying his hands out of Hotch's hold to pull at his hair. "What is it?" Hotch asked, trying to keep his voice professional, but even he heard the fatherly tone he had taken.

"My heads throbbing," he groaned, scratching at his scalp. Hotch reached for his hands again, calmly pulling them free. He felt them trembling and held a little tighter.

"It's been getting worse ever since we got on the plane," Reid gasped.

"It's probably the pressurized air of the plane," he said, more to himself, since he knew Reid probably already knew this. Slowly, Aaron reached for the dark glasses on Spencer's face. As soon as his hand made contact with the younger mans face, Reid's head jerked back reflexively. Not giving up, Hotch slowly took the glasses from his friends face. Even in the dim light, Hotch could see Reid's big expressive eyes focused on the floor. "Look at me, Spencer." He complied, flinching at the pain the movement caused. Hotch's heart ached a little more at the permanent grimace of pain that was etched on his face. The tension in the moment increased as they, seemingly unconsciously, moved towards each other. Hotch searched Reid's eyes as if he could see the demons haunting him from within. The moment must have gotten to intense, because Reid broke eye contact.

"I went to the doctor and they did an M.R.I., but the doctor said there isn't anything wrong. He thinks it's psychosomatic, which means I'm crazy. Hotch, I'm not crazy. I know crazy, and I'm not. I told him how my mother is paranoid schizophrenic and that I'd know better then he would. I'm going to go get a second opinion. I kno-"

"Reid, Reid. Sh, it's alright. Calm down," he interrupted, "I know you are not crazy, and I would never take you off the team. You do need to get to the bottom of these headaches though." Spencer made eye contact again, and Hotch saw the fear mixed with the pain. He knew Reid was terrified that he'd turn out like his mother, and it was a possibility. If that's what it turned out to be, then... Hotch didn't even want to think about it.

"Hotch," He started, his voice much smaller then he intended it to be, "I'm scared." In three words he'd managed to rip what was left of Hotch's heart and shatter it. Spencer was just one of those people you just always wanted to protect, but never seemed to be able to.

"I know you are, and that's alright. The team will support you through this, and I promise I'll be by your side the whole time. I can come with you for any tests you need, and you can take time off from work," Hotch said in a friendly, reassuring manner. Spencer blinked a few times, withdrawing his hand once again to rub at his exposed eyes. Warily, Reid let a smile play on his lips.

"Thanks, sir. I appreciate this, I mean, everything." Reid said, to formal for Hotch's liking.

"Call me Aaron," he requested boldly. Spencer's dark eyebrows knitted together is confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Aaron. I've known you for years, and you've never once called me Aaron. Always Hotch or sir."

"I, um, okay...Aaron?" For some reason, it came out like a question, and Spencer looked away in embarrassment. Aaron couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a faint blush tint his cheeks. Or maybe it was just the faint glow of his cell phone screen, which very conveniently died at that moment; leaving the room back in complete darkness. Reid made a quiet noise in his throat and Hotch was shocked when he felt one of his hands crawl across the floor to find his. Unlike before, their fingers managed to interlace. "That's what you wanted, Aaron?" He said with a bit more confidence.

Hotch knew he was talking about saying his first name, but he also knew it was about their now interlocked fingers. "Yes, it was," he agreed. In the dark, they seemed even closer, and the need to be even closer then that seemed overbearing. Something happened, right in that moment, that made Hotch lean forward and close that distance. Their lips came together hard, and he felt Spencer grow rigid. Unfazed, Aaron moved his lips against the unsure, hesitant ones. He felt like Reid was about to pull away out of nerves, and he released his hand to hold his face steady.. Reid's hand scrambled quickly for something to grasp, finding Hotch's shirt the nearest thing. His tongue met Reid's warm one and he groaned slightly.

Anxiously, Reid's tongue rubbed against his in jerky, sloppy motions. Hotch was pretty sure this was one of Reid's second or third kisses, if not his first. He relaxed and let Spencer find his comfort zone and control the kiss. The anxiety melted into eager curiosity, and Reid's hands wiggled up and found their way into his hair. Taking his movements as enough encouragement to try a little more, Hotch broke away from his mouth and kissed at Spencer's narrow jaw. The man stilled again, and Hotch's inner profiler told him that no one had ever taken it even this far for Spencer. "How's your head feeling now?" He asked in a playful voice as he placed a kiss on Reid's ear. His voice was thick and heavy, and Spencer whimpered slightly.

"Doesn't hurt so much right now," He mumbled in reply.

"Mmm, good," Hotch whispered as he slowly moved down to Reid's neck. The soft growth of stubble felt good against his lips, and he dragged them against the racing pulse area. He kissed it once, twice, three times; before gently sinking his teeth into the area. Reid's whole body straightened and Hotch slowed down, holding him in place. "I'll stop if you want, some people don't like that," Hotch said, reminding Reid that they didn't have to continue this.

"No, it feels good. I just never felt that before," he whispered so quietly, Hotch barely heard him. He accepted his excuse and slowly placed another kiss on his neck. He bit down gently on his pulse point and sucked. He was careful not to leave a mark, but Reid was enjoying it way to much to stop. "Harder," Reid finally gasped while Aaron was busy nibbling at his neck. Pleasantly surprised, he bit down hard enough for it to hurt, which made Spencer moan quietly. Aaron felt the plane begin to descend, and he knew they'd have to stop this for now.

"We're almost home Reid," Aaron whispered reluctantly. Spencer was alert and ready in seconds, groping at the floor for his sunglasses. "Slow down, everything is alright."

Reid laughed sarcastically, "Yeah, of course everything is alright. I have a mental disorder that is probably schizophrenia and I just made out with my boss and let him...bite me. Just a normal day."

Hotch stood up, offering him a hand which Reid accepted. "Can we talk about this when we get home? You can come over to my apartment. I'll make us some dinner and we can talk," Hotch suggested. Reid opened the door a crack and hesitated.

"Yes, I'd like that." Hotch followed him out, not saying anything when Spencer reclaimed the seat he was in before. Pleased to see the rest of the team was just starting to rouse; no one seemed to notice his absence aside from Rossi. Unsettled, Hotch took his seat again.

"An hour and a half, Aaron?" Rossi smirked.

"He's sick, Dave." Rossi nodded and buckled his seat belt.

"I'm sure you made it all better." Hotch knew it was pointless to argue, so he buckled himself in and ignored the comment. "He'll be alright Aaron, we're all a little a crazy." Hotch glanced over at him and smiled.

"Speak for yourself." Rossi elbowed him and chuckled. Then the wheels touched down on the runway.