A/N: This chapter turned out a bit longer than planned, but I hope no-one objects. :)

Thank you to everyone who has read and favorited and put on alert and especially thank you to everyone who has reviewed!

Also, after this I am uncertain where to go with the stories so if anyone has any ideas...

Reid really hated being sick. It made him sore and tired and made it impossible to think and made him feel completely useless and pathetic. When he was a kid it hadn't been so bad; then he could just curl up and watch TV, unbothered by anyone's stifling concern. But now, with the entire team around, it sucked. Because they wouldn't leave him alone; always nagging at him to drink water, taking his temperature and swaddling him with blankets. It sucked.

Especially since no-one seemed inclined to take his complaints seriously; they just smiled indulgently like he was a cranky child. Or frowned sternly as if he was a naughty child, in Hotch's case. Which was unfair, because Hotch was sick as well and he was allowed to be out of bed.

"But Hotch!" Reid said, in what might possibly be interpreted as a whining tone, the second time his boss came in to check on him, "I feel fine."

Hotch looked seriously at him, his frown a bit deeper than usual. "That may very well be," he said and for a moment Reid felt a flash of hope, "but you aren't fine, so it's irrelevant."

Reid sighed deeply and took a long drink from the glass of juice Hotch had brought him and ordered to drink. "It's not as if I'm dying," he complained. Hotch's face just settled into a deeper frown, his mouth tightening slightly, and Reid realized that what he'd said had been a mistake. "Sorry. It's just… This sucks."

Maybe he should be offended that the normally dead serious unit chief smiled at that, looking very much amused, but Reid only felt a small hint of annoyance, and that was mostly because Hotch smiling at his complaints meant that the chance of him taking them seriously was infinitesimal.

"It's just for today, Reid," Hotch assured him, "to not aggravate your cold. You can't afford to have your fever rise anymore."

"Actually," Reid spoke up, happy to have anything to take his mind off the current situation, "actual damage is only very rarely done by a temperature of anything less than 104 degrees. Anything under that is only beneficial to healing by increasing the mobility of the leukocytes and…"

He broke off when he realized that Hotch was only giving him a blank look and grimaced slightly. Medical facts weren't a good topic for conversation, apparently.

"Your temperature was almost up to 104 for a while," Hotch said, whatever amusement he might have felt now gone, "I think we're justified in worrying."

Reid sighed again, but had to concede the point. His memories from the morning were hazy; mostly cool hands stroking his forehead and coaxing him to drink some sweet liquid. But it was pretty obvious that he'd been very sick and that made it difficult to argue with Hotch. And the fact that it was Hotch, of course.

For a moment the room was silent except for Reid's rather heavy breathing and he was just beginning to feel his eyelids droop as Hotch spoke. "Finish your juice," he ordered, "Then you can sleep some more."

Reid nodded and took another gulp of the juice, holding the glass in front of his face and looking down into it as a shield. "Maybe…" he ventured shyly, trying not to look at Hotch's face, "Maybe you could stay?"

Because even though he wasn't sure Hotch's presence would ward off nightmares, it was worth a try. The night's sleep had been interrupted several times by waking up in the grips of terror after a nightmare, probably made worse by the fever, and he was pretty sure that the few agonizing seconds when his heart was speeding and his whole body was tensed, prepared for fight, weren't aiding his recovery.

"Yes, of course," Hotch immediately agreed, and Reid decided that his frown was probably concerned rather than annoyed. Reid smiled weakly in thanks and his boss's frown lifted slightly before he took Reid's glass and put it away on the nearby dresser. "Go to sleep now."

Reid obeyed; leaning back against his pillow, closing his eyes and despite the still wooly ache in his head he fell asleep within minutes.

What woke him up was probably his body realizing that he was hungry. Very hungry, his grumbling stomach soon informed him. He pried open his gritty eyes and turned his head to try to figure out what time it was, only to have his gaze fall on his sleeping unit chief.

Hotch was sitting slumped in his chair, eyes closed and head rested against the headboard of the bed. Reid felt a little guilty that he had caused his boss to sleep in such an uncomfortable position, but then he realized that Hotch's presence had worked as an effective deterrent of nightmares. And maybe it was selfish of him, but that rationalized away most of the guilt.

He cleared his throat loudly and when Hotch stirred slightly, he spoke up. "Hotch? You awake?"

The older man straightened and blinked a few times before his eyes settled on Reid and his face took on the familiar serious look. "Yes," he said, "Something wrong?"

"No, I'm just hungry," Reid said. Hotch straightened entirely and unconsciously smoothed his sleeves, nodding.

"Oh," he said, "Well, you can probably come down and eat something. If you feel up to it."

Reid nodded eagerly, happy for the chance to get out of bed; he felt as if it'd been his prison the last day. Not that he could probably have been up for long even if he'd been allowed to. Hotch waited patiently as Reid rolled out of bed, taking a moment to become steady on his feet.

"Uh…" he then began, hesitantly, "I kind of want to change?"

Hotch seemed to consider this for a while, why, Reid wasn't sure, and then he nodded curtly and left Reid to change out of the now rather soggy clothes Rossi had loaned him. For a while he debated whether he should wear proper clothes or go with his pajamas. Realizing that he'd probably go to bed again in half an hour or so, he went for pajamas.

When he exited the room Hotch studied him intently for a moment, concern etched on his face. Apparently he was pleased with whatever he saw, because he soon gestured for Reid to lead the way downstairs.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hotch headed for the dining room and Reid followed obediently. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia were all seated around the table playing cards, but as soon as Hotch entered the room with Reid in tow they all looked up.

"Thought you were supposed to be in bed," Rossi said to Reid, frowning in obvious censure. Reid shrugged and looked at Hotch, silently asking the older man to defend him.

"I said it was okay," Hotch said calmly, "Just to get something to eat."

Rossi's frown remained for a moment as he eyed Reid skeptically, but then he shrugged slightly. "All right," he said, "Sit down. I'll get you something."

Reid obeyed immediately, because to entirely honest he was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded from the exertion of going down the stairs and then keeping upright, and Hotch took a seat opposite him.

"You feel up to eating something solid?" Rossi asked without turning around from his survey of the fridge's contents.

"I think so," Reid replied after a moment's consideration. His stomach hadn't protested too violently for a while and he was honestly yearning for some proper food. Rossi nodded and began to take things out from the fridge. Reid quickly got bored with watching him and turned to the rest of the team.

He happily noted that they all looked both healthy and fairly happy. There was concern in their eyes as they looked at him, but that was to be expected; he had long ago come to terms with the fact that the team worried about him. But he still couldn't help but feel guilty when they lost sleep because of that worry, so it was with relief he noted that they all seemed none the worse for wear.

"How're you feeling, pretty boy?" Morgan asked.

"Better," Reid replied with a small smile.

"I'm sure you'll be completely fine soon, my delicious genius cupcake," Garcia said with a wide smile, Prentiss nodding in agreement, also giving him a kind smile.

"Where are the others?" Hotch asked.

"Alex and Jo went grocery shopping, JJ is resting," Rossi said, "How's your fever?"

The question was directed at Hotch, who shrugged. "The same as before, I think."

"Reid?"

"Uh… I don't know?"

How was he supposed to know how high his fever was? He could tell the difference between not feverish, somewhat feverish and very feverish, but that was about as far it went. He had PhDs after all, not a medical degree.

"Check, then," Rossi said, with what sounded like forced patience and at Reid's questioning look he dug out a thermometer from one of the cupboards. Reid obediently took his temperature, glad that he could control his fingers now, and after the beep he read the display.

"101," he announced.

"Not too bad, I guess. You can stay up."

The last was delivered as a magnanimous declaration and Reid couldn't help but smile slightly, which had probably been Rossi's intention.

After that Rossi's attention went back to whatever he was currently heating in the frying pan, and Reid turned to the rest of the team.

"So…" he asked, "What have you guys been doing?"

This brought on more happy chatter, and Reid gratefully allowed the words to wash over him. Even though he still had some trouble interacting with large groups of strangers and being around people exhausted him, the team had taken on such a secure role in his life that these restrictions no longer applied to them. With the team, he didn't feel the need to get away if he spent more than a few hours with them and he didn't become uncomfortable when they all joked and laughed. Mostly because, for the first time in his life, he was included.

After a few minutes Rossi placed plates in front of him and Hotch. "Eat up," he ordered, "Jo'll kill us all if you're out of bed when she comes back."

Reid obeyed, because his backside was still reminding him of why it was stupid to disobey and besides, he was still tired. It was nice to get out of bed for a while, but he had a feeling that when he had finished the food he would be perfectly prepared to get back to the comfortable warmth of his bed.

It only took him a few minutes to finish his food; Rossi's silent but constant reminder that he should get back to bed as soon as possible wasn't ideal for a nice, relaxed meal.

When he was done, Rossi immediately gestured for him to get back up to bed and as he stood the older man moved to follow him, apparently not trusting him to go on his own. He frowned.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," he complained, but Rossi seemed unimpressed and just gave him a skeptical glance that made his face heat. It wasn't fair that Rossi could have him blushing with a single look.

They entered Reid's and Morgan's room. Reid turned to Rossi, hugging himself slightly, and gazed shyly at the older man.

"I'm sorry I ruined our vacation," he mumbled. And he was. He hadn't planned on getting sick and having everyone rally around him to make sure he was comfortable, and he was pretty sure that none of the others had either. This week was supposed to be fun and relaxing for them, not spent looking after Reid.

Rossi frowned and for a moment Reid feared that Rossi was actually properly angry with him and had just forgot it. "The only way you're gonna ruin this vacation, young man," he said sternly, crossing his arms and glaring, "is for yourself by having me spank you again if you keep being silly."

Reid frowned, confused, and looked questioningly at Rossi, who sighed.

"You haven't ruined our vacation," he said. "All right?"

More because he had no wish to be spanked again than because he agreed, Reid nodded.

"Okay. Bed."

It was said jovially, but Reid had no doubt it was an order and having no wish to push Rossi he obeyed quickly, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Rossi took a seat on the chair next to the bed, and strangely enough it felt as comforting as when it had been Hotch. A year or so ago that definitely wouldn't have been the case, because even though Rossi had been family back then it had been more like a slightly distant uncle. Unlike now, when he wasn't quite a father figure but still more than what he had been back then. Maybe a very close uncle.

"You think you can go to sleep?" Rossi asked. Reid nodded, a bit hesitantly. He didn't really want Rossi to leave. Not that he was sacred to be alone or anything like that, he just… would like some company right now. But he wasn't about to admit that.

"Do you think you're friends are angry with me?" he asked instead, to keep the older man there. Rossi looked a little confused for a moment, then frowned.

"Jo and Alex, you mean? Hell no, kid. They like you."

Reid frowned and looked down at his hands. He didn't quite see what that had to do with it and besides, he didn't really think that they did like him. Tolerated him, probably, and were maybe even amused by him, but they didn't like him. People like the Leroys didn't just like guys like him. No-one did, really, but especially not suave Frenchmen and beautiful doctors.

"Reid?" Rossi interrupted his thoughts suddenly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "They do like you."

Maybe he should be annoyed that Rossi could apparently read him with such ease, but to be honest he was mostly glad for the reassurance and the opportunity it gave him to continue on this topic. Because even if it was uncomfortable and embarrassing to discuss things concerning his social inabilities with Rossi, who was after all somewhat renowned for his social abilities, it was also reassuring. When Reid managed to gather enough courage to ask the Italian man about something that was bothering him, Rossi would often offer a proper explanation instead of just empty reassurances like the rest of the team tended to do. Like telling him how to ask a girl out rather than just telling him to be himself.

And even though this very deep-founded insecurity, the nagging doubt that he was really, at the core, unlikeable, wasn't something he had ever really talked about with Rossi, maybe if he did he would get some practical answers that would actually allow him to grasp why people liked him.

"Why?" he asked quietly, still looking at his hands.

"Why do they like you?" Rossi clarified, sounding a bit amused, "Well, Reid, I would imagine it has something to do with the fact that you're a nice kid."

Reid's frown deepened, and he bit his lower lip. "Yeah… but, I mean… I'm not like you or Hotch."

"I think we can all agree on that," Rossi replied, smirking, and Reid ducked his head. "Look… No, kid, you're not like me or Hotch or like anyone else on the team. You're a person, Reid. Unique."

"Yeah…" Reid agreed hesitantly, playing distractedly with the covers, "But what I mean is… it would only be natural for guys like you or for a guy like Leroy, to feel more, eh… friendly toward someone more… someone… not like me."

At the final words he lowered his gaze and completely hid his face behind curtains of hair, half afraid that Rossi would agree.

"Spencer…" Rossi said, gently chiding, "C'mon, kid. You know that's bullshit."

Reid shrugged, awkwardly raising a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

"I guess," he agreed quietly. Rossi frowned, looking concerned, and after a moment he spoke up again.

"At least tell me this: do you seriously doubt that the team loves you?"

Blushing a little, Reid swallowed audibly before turning his face a bit further from Rossi.

"Love?" he echoed weakly, hopefully. Rossi raised his eyebrows, smiling wryly.

"Yeah, kid. Love."

"Oh…" was all Reid managed to reply to that, biting his lower lip slightly. Love? He knew the team liked him, but loved? Love was the squishy stuff that they talked about in novels and poems and made people want to kill for each other. It certainly wasn't what people felt about him.

"Really?" he managed after a moment, sounding a bit incredulous and possibly a bit skeptical. "I mean… I know you guys kind of like me, but…"

He trailed off after that, because the serious expression on Rossi's face suggested that he had said something stupid and not wanting to get in trouble, he shut his mouth and looked expectantly at Rossi.

"Are you serious?" Rossi asked, his voice flat and somewhat disbelieving, "Do I really need to kick the whole team's asses?"

Reid frowned in confusion. "Sorry..?" he ventured hesitantly, not sure why the older man was upset and not sure what he could do to fix it. At least, it seemed that Reid was no longer in any immediate danger.

"You tellin' me that you've worked with these people for, what? six years and they've never told you they love you?"

Rossi was gesturing wildly and Reid shrunk back a little more into the pillows. He wasn't even sure what he had done to deserve being yelled at and had no idea how to end it.

"Uh… Yes? I mean… They have. But that's… I mean, it's a socially accepted convention that you express affection for people you're close to in a suitable jargon and…"

"Spencer!" Rossi interrupted him sharply, raising both hands as if trying to stave something off, and Reid quieted once again to listen.

"Let me get this straight: you're sayin' that when I tell you I love you, I'm really just following social conventions?"

Happy that Rossi seemed to be following his reasoning, even though he was a bit confused by the threatening note in Rossi's voice, Reid nodded.

Which was apparently the wrong answer, because Rossi, rather roughly, grabbed a hold of his shoulder, turned him over and swatted his backside. Hard, and Reid couldn't help the undignified yelp he let out and as Rossi turned him back he shot the older man an accusing glare.

"What'd you do that for?" he demanded, a bit annoyed by how shrill his voice sounded.

"What do you think?" Rossi countered, crossing his arms and his expression eerily similar to the one Hotch had when someone had disobeyed him. Reid frowned, by now really confused. He had a definite feeling he had messed up, but he wasn't entirely sure how. Maybe it wasn't exactly polite to point out to people how much what they perceived as conscious decisions was actually just products of their cultural context, but he'd thought that Rossi, as a profiler, would know that.

"I… did something wrong?"

Rossi snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, you got that right. But I was after something a bit more specific?"

Reid frowned, and for once in his life he had absolutely no idea what to say. He shrugged, pouting a little, because Rossi was being completely unreasonable and unfair.

"Well…" Rossi drawled after a moment, realizing that he wouldn't get an answer, "There's the whole calling me a liar thing, for one."

"I didn't…"

"Ah!" Rossi interrupted him sharply, raising a finger, "Don't get yourself into more trouble than you already are. If I say something and you claim that I don't mean it, then you're saying that I'm lying, correct?"

Starting to get what Rossi was getting at, Reid bit his lower lip before he slowly nodded his agreement.

"Then you're calling me a liar," Rossi concluded with a curious expression, spreading his hands in silent question. And it was then Reid realized that the older profiler had effectively backed him into a corner. He shook his head, because he was fairly certain that Rossi wouldn't appreciate him not refuting the accusation.

"All right. So then when I say that I love you, it's the truth, yes?"

Reid sighed deeply, before he nodded. He wasn't quite sure how they had gotten to this point and he wasn't sure he completely believed Rossi, but he wasn't about to push the man right now. Besides, the fact that Rossi felt it was an issue it was worth arguing about had to mean something, right?

"I guess…"

"Good," Rossi said curtly and before Reid had time to react he was once again turned onto his side and given three hard swats. Reid glared at him and resisted the urge to reach back and rub.

"Would you stop doing that?" he complained. Rossi raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Be glad you're not getting the full treatment. Hotch would if he was being as silly as you are. Now go to sleep and I'll bring you some books a bit later, okay?"

Reid nodded and readjusted the covers to cover all of him except his chin and to his embarrassment Rossi, apparently unconsciously, helped him, gently tucking the covers under his shoulder and cocooning him in a way no-one had done since he was seven or so. But he was too sleepy and too comfortable to protest and he didn't even try to avoid Rossi's hand stretched out to ruffle his hair slightly.

"I love you, kid," Rossi said quietly, smiling a bit sadly, "As does the team."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before leaning over and softly pressing a light kiss to Reid's forehead. And Reid was certain that this time it wasn't to check if he had a fever.

A/N2: Thank you for reading and please review! And again, please give me some suggestions for what happens next!