Spencer Reid One Shots (Requests CLOSED)

Maddigan Doesn't Feel So Good.

"Maddigan, baby, it's time to wake up." I say softly, nudging my four year old daughter awake. She turns without waking and I notice her skin is pale and her cheeks are flushed. I frown sightly, pressing my lips gently to her forehead, only to realize her skin is burning hot. She has a fever. Oh my. Maddigan doesn't "do" sick unless Spencer is around; he's been gone on a case for around three weeks.

Maddigan is a Daddy's girl already, but when she's sick, in her mind it's "Daddy and only Daddy can be around me." I don't take it to heart too much, she means well.

I really should get her temperature though, and I should've known something was wrong. She's usually awake at the crack of dawn, but it's 8:30 AM and the poor baby is still sleeping. I nudge her again, and she opens her eyes. A noticable shiver runs through her body and I step back a few steps just in time as she leans over the side of her bed, losing whatever contents from last night's dinner still remained in her stomach. She starts to cry as she falls back into bed, the evidence of what happened on the floor, down the side of her bed, and on her shirt. I take a deep breath and step around the mess, pulling her blanket back and carefully pulling Maddigan out of bed. "Sweetpea, you're gonna need to go wait for mommy in the bathroom. Please don't cry anymore though, I know it hurts, and you don't feel good, and you're afraid to get in trouble for this; but I promise it's okay, everybody gets sick and I know you couldn't help it. Now, go wait for me so I can clean this mess up and I'll give you bath directly afterwards." She nods with a sniffle and walks off towards the bathroom. I watch her go sadly before carefully, yet quickly cleaning the mess.

As soon as I'm finished, I strip her bed, taking the bedclothes straight downstairs to the laundry room. I then head back up, grabbing the thermometer on the way, this time entering the decent sized bathroom I'd sent my sick child into.

The little Spencer lookalike is sitting in a chair in the corner, her head leaned back, and her eyes closed. I'd witnessed Spencer himself sitting like this many times when he wasn't feeling like much. "C'mon baby, let mommy take your temperature, and help you get those clothes off so I can give you a bath."

She hesitates for a moment before coming over to me. I kneel down to her height and stick the thermometer in her mouth. A few moments later it beeps and it says '101.3' I frown as I carefully help her take her shirt off, tossing it to the corner. She rests her hands on my shoulders as I pull her pajama pants down as leverage when she steps out of them, kicking them to same corner as her shirt. I let her finish, grabbing her bathrobe from the door and handing it to her as I start her bath. She puts it on and I tie it for her, having her sit back down as the water runs.

When there's enough water in the tub I turn the water off. "Come on, sweetie." I say softly, testing the water temperature with my hand. She comes over, taking her robe off and climbing in the bath. I'm surprised she's let me take care of her this much. "I want Daddy." She says simply as she sits in the water.

Nope. I spoke too soon.

"Daddy is at work. He'll be home soon, don't worry." I say, shielding her face from the water as I get her shoulder length brown hair wet.

"I want Daddy right now." She says stubbornly with a pout.

"How about this," I say, massaging her shampoo into her hair. "Let me finish giving you a bath, then we'll call Daddy and see if he can talk for a minute. Sound good?" She nods and I begin rinsing the shampoo out, shielding her face again. I grab her loofah -more commonly known to her as Mr. Loof; and yes, her father gave her the idea- getting it wet and putting her body wash onto it.

"Here's Mr. Loof. Wash your face, then your body and we'll rinse and be done with your bath, okay?" She does as she's told and she sits back in the water to rinse her body while I rinse her face.