Reid and Reid Ship Oneshots

Hotch x Reid

❤️

Spencer Reid, the genius, the workaholic, was not at the work that required him to prove he was smarter than everyone in a 100 mile radius. A rare occurrence. No one was alarmed because Reid had the day off, but it was unlike him to actually not come into the office. If anything he'd sleep in and get there a few hours late, maybe even bring everyone back coffee.
Now Hotch wasn't really known to be sympathetic and worry about people, at least not on the outiside, and he had no grounds to contact Reid, as the fact that he was not present when he had every right to not be was nowhere near alarming. But for some reason, Hotch couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He was always anxious about Jack and his team, but this felt different. The only thing he could compare it to was the fear he felt when he thought Haley was in danger.
Hotch was a profiler, not an idiot, but he couldn't entirely understand what Reid and Haley had in common. What made him feel this sinking pit in his stomach for both of these people? They had absolutely nothing in common.

But nevertheless, Hotch sat at his desk, staring at the contact number in his phone. If Reid was fine, and his intuition was wrong, then he at least wanted to get to the bottom of this feeling. He had considered it as romantic or sexual interest in Reid, but it felt different than the love he felt for Haley, so it had to be something else. A similarity that only Reid and Haley shared.

Hotch put the phone to his ear, waiting anxiously as the first ring started and ended, then the third ring ended, and then the fifth, and then the sixth. His mind had gone fuzzy until the dial tone pinged, practically springing him back to life.
Hotch couldn't think of one time he called Reid and he didn't answer. So he called again. This time, the wait while the rings buzzed wasn't just anxious, it was pure terror. He felt like his chest was going to explode, or maybe it was his head? It could have been his stomach too. Everything felt uncomfortable and filled with a lump.

Hotch called another two times, totaling up to four unanswered calls. He texted twice, messages along the lines of: Call me back before I fire you and I have a work question. One was used to lure him out, and the other, to threaten him. Neither worked.

He decided to call one more time before doing something about his absence.
This time, to Hotch's overwhelming relief, Reid picked up the phone, or at least, the tone beeped that someone had.

"Reid, thank god you're alright." Hotch spoke before a word of confirmation from the person on the other side sounded. "I called you four times and messaged you. Why didn't you pick up?" Now his immense fear boiled into anger, or more so annoyance. He could never really admit he was ever angry at Reid, no matter what he did. He was undoubtedly biased.

"Hotch..." a groan came from the other side of the speaker.

"Reid?" He replied to the call, recognizing it as the man's name he said in reciprocation.

"Hurt...Hurt." he repeated. The voice was delayed and low, but it seemed to be close to the speaker so it was coherent enough.

"What do you mean?" Hotch felt that uncomfortable feeling again. Every inch of his body; his head, his chest, his stomach; all like they were going to explode.

"Blood..." Reid whispered before fumbling his phone, it falling on the ground.

Hotch stood from his desk abruptly, pushing his chair over and shifting his desk forward one or two inches.
"Reid! Tell me where you are!" Hotch yelled into the phone, grabbing his gun from his desk and running out of his office, phone still to his ear to carefully listen to any words Reid could utter.

Morgan and Blake, who were both sitting at Reid's desk, subtracting some of their case files and adding them to his, were obviously startled to see Hotch so worried and hurrying out of his office. They looked at each other, seeing if they were thinking the same thing, and they obviously were. They stood up and collected everyone on the BAU, seating them in the conference room.