Work Text:
As Rossi walks into the bullpen and up to his office, his eyes can’t help but glance over the empty desk. Why aren’t they here yet? He puts his bag in his office and heads straight to Hotch’s. The light is on so when he walks in, he’s greeted with the man filling in paperwork at his desk.
“Hotch?” He asks.
“Yeah? What’s wrong, Dave?” Hotch replies, noticing the concern on the older’s face almost immediately.
“Where’s Y/N? They’re normally in by now.”
You’re the new recruit in the office. You work long hours, seemingly trying to prove that you belong. As they do with all the new recruits, you’re assigned a lot of paperwork. Sure, you go out in the field, but nine times out of ten, you’re chained to your desk. Rossi’s taken a liking to you, watching over you as he does his other BAU kids. There’s something different with you, though. Perhaps it’s because you’re new, or maybe it’s because you’re the youngest on the team, five years younger than Spencer. Either way, Dave decided to take you under his wing.
“They called in sick,” Hotch answers, pulling Dave from his thoughts. “They’ll be back tomorrow or the day after.”
Rossi frowns a little, nodding. “Okay. I think I’m going to take the day off.”
Both men know his intention. Hotch knows Dave likes to make sure everyone’s okay, and at this point, he won’t stop him. He’s tried before, telling Rossi that just because one of them is ill, doesn’t mean he has to take care of them. They’re all grown up, after all.
Hotch just sighs and nods, waving him out and asking for an update tomorrow. Rossi heads back to his office, grabbing the bag he set down about ten minutes ago, and leaves, passing JJ in the hallway.
“Where are you going? Forget something?” She teases lightly with a joking laugh.
“No. Y/N’s sick,” he replies. JJ nods and gets to her own desk. She wouldn’t expect anything less from the man.
—•—
When Dave arrives at the small apartment, he uses his spare key to unlock it. He has a key to everyone’s place, as does Hotch, just in case there’s an emergency and the other isn’t available. He holds a plastic bag in one hand, Tupperware full of three days worth of meals inside.
The first thing he notices when he gets in is the mess. It’s bad—dishes pile high in the sink, clothes are strewn over the place, and the air is stale. It’s like it’s been abandoned. Dave sighs and places the bag on the kitchen counter, greeted by your cat as she jumps up onto the counter.
“Hi girl,” he coos, stroking her, “what’s happened here?”
He walks through, coming to a bedroom door and knocking lightly. “Y/N? It’s Dave.”
There’s no speech, just a cough and a weak sniff. Thank God they’re alive, he thinks as he slowly pushes the door open. His eyes shift and scan the bed, taking in your figure. You’re still in pyjamas, wrapped up in your duvet and blowing your nose. Dave gives a small smile, walking over and opening the curtains. Light floods the room, and now Dave sees the state of it. You can barely see the floor.
His brow creases and he sits on the edge of the bed, patting your knee.
“Hey kiddo, how’re you feeling?” He asks as though he’s asking a young child. You shake your head, coughing.
“Like shit,” you joke, giving a weak smile. “I had a rough night last night and have a pounding headache.” Rossi nods.
“What else is going on?” You tilt your head. “Kid, your desk has three different bins for three stages of paperwork. You’re the most organised person I know, apart from maybe Reid. So, what’s going on?”
You sit still for a minute, unsure of what to say. You can’t hide there’s something going on; your apartment speaks for you. You just don’t know how to put it into words.
“It’s just…” You trail off, “I don’t know, Dave. I’m so tired, all the time. It’s exhausting. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t get out of bed.”
Rossi’s heart clenches. One of his kids are struggling and you hid it from all of them so you didn’t bother them. He sighs.
“Bambino, it’s burnout. You’ve pushed yourself too much and look at where it’s got you, hey?” He doesn’t mean it in a horrible way, in fact probably the polar opposite. He feels overly paternal, like you’re like his kid. Scratch that, you are his kid. Just like the others. He pats your leg. “How about I help you clean up, yeah? I bought some food.”
You nod, using his nightstand to push yourself up. Dave smiles as you go to the kitchen area, where he hands you two painkillers. You take them, grateful, and you two start cleaning and organising your apartment again. Three hours later, you’re sat on the sofa, windows open to let fresh air in, curtains open for sunlight, and a plate of a pasta and chicken dish Rossi made. Dave’s finishing in the kitchen, and when he’s done, joins you on the sofa.
“Thank you,” you thank, sneezing again and blowing your nose. Rossi smiles and puts an arm around you, pulling you into a side-hug.
“No problem, kiddo.” He looks at his watch and stands, heading to the door. “Right, I should head back before Hotch has my head on a spike.”
“Wait!” You call, making him turn around. “Can…Can you stay, please? I don’t think it’s, good, if I stay, y'know…”
You don’t have to say anymore. Rossi nods and heads back over, turning the TV on and letting the hours tick by. As it rolls around to seven in the evening, Rossi feels a weight on his shoulder. You’ve fallen asleep on him. He smiles—it’s the most peaceful he’s seen you in a while.
Slowly, he stands, helping you lie on the sofa and grabbing the blanket from the back, covering you with it. Your cat meows quietly before jumping up, curling next to her owner. Rossi smiles and turns the lights off, leaving one lamp in the corner incase you wake up. He leaves, locking the door behind him.
Dave loves looking after his kids, but you might just be his favourite.