Picasso || Spencer Reid

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

I lift my head up slightly to get a glance at the time on my alarm clock. "Oh god, is it really 2am? Fuck, you have to get up for work, Spencer!" I felt bad because I could slowly hear the tiredness grow in the way he spoke, but whenever I would suggest going to sleep, he would say "I'm not even tired, Picasso."

"I know. I have to be up in like four hours."

"Spence, what the hell! Go to sleep, how are you going to catch bad guys with no rest?"

"It's fine, Picasso. Even if I went to sleep now, it would be more than I normally get."

"I do not understand how you can survive." A teasing tone present in my voice.

Throughout the night, his already soothing voice gained a small rasp to it, which was an indication that he was, if fact tired.

"It's called 'having a caffeine addiction', which still probably isn't the best idea. The team always accuses me of drinking all the coffee."

I feel my eyes begin to droop as he speaks, because of pure exhaustion, my body moving into a more comfortable position.

"Hey, go to sleep, I can hear you getting comfortable." He's so caring, I can hear it in his voice.

"In a minute, I just want to know one more thing first." My eyes begin to droop again, before softly closing with my phone resting against my hear.

"What's that?" He's obviously curious with my coming question.

"Why do you call me Picasso?" It comes out as a slight mumble. A short second after I finish asking the question, my consciousness fades away to a dreamless sleep.

Waking up in the morning was odd as I had my phone stuck to my skin after being squashed between my face and my pillow, I must've turned a lot.

I look at the screen which told me it was 10:07am, as well as having a text message notification shown at the top.

2 New Messages - 'Dr. Spencer'

"Sleep well, Picasso."

"Message me when you eventually wake up."

How is it possible that he makes me feel so giddy?

Getting changed into a pair of blue jeans and a graphic print t-shirt, I move downstairs and find Isaac already in the living room, in his pyjamas with a plate of toast on his lap, sitting in front of the television. He turns his head towards me as he hears my footsteps coming down the stairs. I stand behind the couch and ruffle his hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"Morning kid." He rushes to fix his hair back into place, a frown now presents itself on his face.

He gestures towards the plate on him lap, now only occupied by a small amount of crust and crumbs. "I made you toast, but you were still asleep, so I ate it." I laugh at him as I enter the kitchen.

I raise my voice slightly so that he can still hear me from where he sits, "It's the thought that count, bud. Thank you anyway." I grab the bread loaf, grabbing myself two slices and placing them into the toaster. I take out a plate for myself, as well as a knife and the jar of Nutella that I kept hidden from Isaac because I know that he would finish the whole tub in one sitting.

The toast pops up and I coat it in a thin layer of the sweet spread. I sit down next to Isaac on the other end of the couch, where he glares at me.

"I will find where you hide it one day." He tries to hold my eye contact in a way to be intimidating, but I just laugh at him, and his scowl turns into a frown.