SILVER SPOON. spencer reid

31

"why does it seem like we're going off book?"

;

HAZEL ROLLED around in her sleep, mumbling incoherent words and phrases as she reached around for her very own warm body pillow she called Spencer Reid.

She groaned when she felt nothing, flipping to her other side and rolling closer to the edge until—

THUMP!

"Fuck!" Hazel cried out, eyes shooting open immediately as her entire head and body throbbed—especially her arm and wrist which seemed to have caught her fall. A burning pain shot down her casted arm, and Hazel knew that she had just opened the wound for what felt like the tenth time this week.

"Are you okay I heard a noise—" Spencer walked in the bedroom, and saw the woman on the floor, his eyes widening. "Geez!! Are you okay?!"

He crouched down next to her, softly grabbing her shoulders to help the woman sit up, careful not to mess with her injured arm and wrist. Hazel glared daggers at the man, making him almost flinch and cower.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't leave the bed. I was looking for you." She rolled her eyes, huffing with fake annoyance.

"I woke up to make breakfast for you, and also why would I be on the ground?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

Hazel looked up at him, forgetting that she was supposed to be upset almost instantly. "You made me food?"

"Yeah. I was making eggs—shit!!!" Spencer's eyes went wide, and he scrambled clumsily onto his feet and bolted out of her room, yelling the approximate time it should take for eggs to burn and the amount of time he had left. Hazel cackled and eventually hoisted herself up, following him downstairs but in a much more lethargic manner.

She burst out laughing when she saw the plate with what she assumed were eggs on it. Hazel couldn't tell of course, they were charred completely black and it looked like a big hunk of charcoal. "I think your estimation was incorrect, Dr. Reid."

"Be quiet." Spencer growled. He looked up at the woman with upset eyes. "It was supposed to be a pleasant surprise for you..." he pouted, and Hazel grinned with adoration, her heart warming.

"Surprise indeed. Pleasant—not so much." She chuckled, only teasing him but stopped when she realized the man was genuinely upset about the charred eggs. "Spencer." Hazel said with disbelief, smiling sympathetically at him.

"Am I really that dysfunctional?" He grumbled sadly, and that's when Hazel attacked him, jumping straight into his arms as the man stumbled back, almost toppling over. "Ow!!!"

"Who needs eggs when I have you?" She asked, her face pressed underneath his neck. "In fact, who needs food when I have you?"

"Well, according to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, you technically require biological needs like food, then safety, and then that's when you can have love and belonging. So Hazel, you're indeed wrong about needing me instead of food because I'm actually third." Spencer stated in a matter-of-fact tone, one arm going up to wrap behind her head, holding her to him as he rocked them back and forth, almost dancing.

"And what's the second? It's safety, so you're not third, you're second." Hazel said, proud that she knew the fact.

"How'd you know that?"

"Spencer, you're not the only person in the whole world that has studied psychology." She deadpanned.

That's when it hit Spencer—not that he wasn't the only person in the world who knows psychology, but that he truly knew barely anything about Hazel. He didn't know much about her life at home, although it wasn't much he assumed—her favorite food, color, place to visit, etc.