nina cried power [SPENCER REID]

thirty-one.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:
THIS IS MY FAVOURITE TROPE

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"No," is the first thing Nina says when Spencer steps out of the bathroom, dressed in his usual flannel pyjama bottoms and a grey shirt, absentmindedly fluffing his damp hair with a towel. "No, absolutely not."

"What?" he goes to ask, then before he can pronounce the T, he sees what she's pointing at. A laugh escapes him, quite without permission. "What do you mean, no?"

"No, you're not sleeping there."

With almost comedic symmetry, they both look down and grimace at his meagre collection of blankets and the single pillow, knitted by his mother during one hour of therapy or another, that lies at the foot of the bed. It doesn't look comfortable, he'll admit. It doesn't look comfortable at all. But he won't complain out loud; it's necessary.

"Sleeping on the floor is good for your posture," he says, clearing his throat and giving her a bright smile. "C'mon. You need sleep."

"The blankets won't even reach your shins," she insists, as he tries to usher her toward his bed.

"Nina, I'm not going to sleep in the same bed as you."

She scoffs. "I meant take the couch."

His turn to scoff.

But it's her turn to return the bright grin, all as he flips back the cover like he's about to tuck her in. With a hand on his chest, she shoo's him away, before nodding again down at his little camping bed set up. "You're not serious, are you? Just get in the bed. It's big enough for both of us."

"I'm not sleeping with you." His voice has raised an octave, and his face feels uncomfortably warm. "That'd be... Highly inappropriate."

"I'm inviting you."

From his throat bubbles an awkward, shy laugh. "And I am graciously declining."

"Get in the bed."

"No!"

"Get in the bed!"

"Nina--"

"Look." She scoops up the pillows and blankets from the floor, dropping them on top of his bedsheets, and she leans over to organise them into a line -- a wall of sorts -- down the middle of his double bed. He tries to ignore the slip of skin at the base of her back, revealed by her shirt riding up when she leans over. "There. Much better."