LOSING, BABY｡ CRIMINAL MINDS

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-ONE. THE MORNING AFTER

RHEA BY NO MEANS INTENDED TO PULL A 'DAISY ALVAREZ'. To have drunken hookups with people she already knew and established relationships with was not her style, so when she woke up the next morning hungover and aching, the events of the night before came crashing down around her. 

Her eyes could barely open past a squint, and she was welcomed by the sight of dark walls and piles of books. She groaned softly and turned in bed, one leg twisted in the duvet covers. She was cold; why was she cold? Everything clicked into place when she saw Spencer Reid snoring softly to her left. His hair was pulled back and tied up, something she didn't remember him doing. She must have fallen asleep before him, as she reached up and was taken off guard by the bonnet securely placed on her head. Her make up had been removed, and she didn't feel the discomfort she usually would after a night of fun. She shouldn't have been surprised - he'd seen her night routine a thousand times, and he was a damn genius. Still, it was more than some people had done.

He'd taken care of her, and that made her smile.

Even in his sleep, he appeared to be in deep thought. There was a crease between his brows and his lips were moving like he was having a conversation with someone. She tilted her head, resisting the urge to reach forward and tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. That was when it all hit her like a freight train travelling at full speed. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw the covers off of her legs, jumping out of bed and tiptoeing across the room. She sorted through his drawers for one of the white tops he wore under his work shirts, and a pair of sweatpants she'd bought him in attempt to make his wardrobe more 'comfortable'. 

Then, she went to the door, but not without a single glance back to see him still dreaming. 

When she stepped out into the front room, she saw that Diana Reid was sitting on the sofa, flicking through the scrapbook Spencer had gotten sent over from Las Vegas, a glass of water on the table in front of her. She was calm, which meant Rhea wasn't worried about approaching. 

"Morning, Diana," she smiled softly, lowering herself onto the couch. She remained a comfortable distance, knowing that touch had overwhelmed the woman in the past. "How are you feeling today?"

"Where's Spencer?" she mumbled, barely addressing the teacher. Rhea swallowed, scratching her upper arm. "Is he alright? I didn't hear him come home last night."

"Cassie's been giving you Zopiclone twice a week," she explained. "It's a type of medication that helps you sleep. It's been really helpful; you've gotten through almost every night. Spencer hasn't had to come and help you."

"Spencer's my son," Diana grumbled, practically throwing the page over instead of gently turning it. "Spencer takes care of me. He's not going to poison me like that damn nurse does."

"Cassie doesn't poison you," Rhea crossed her legs and started removing her bonnet. It wasn't done perfectly, but it was pretty impressive for a man who'd only seen the process. "Spencer hired her because he wants you to have all the support you need. Just so that when he's not here, someone can make sure you're safe and healthy."