Picasso || Spencer Reid

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

The machine beeps twice before starting its cycle, a loud and high pitched sound, amplifying a headache that I hadn't previously noticed. It whirs and splashes as it spins and water fills the drum. It's an almost relaxing sound, soothing compared to the shrill tones that occurred before.

I slowly put away the detergent and softener, trying to decide whether or not I should tell Spencer what happened tonight.

Being so deep in my thought, I didn't hear Spencer coming down the stairs.

"Hey, you okay?" I jump slightly at his words. My hand moved over my chest in a shocked movement.

I nod my head towards him, lowering my hand back to my side, "Yes, sorry, I zoned out for a couple of minutes." He walks towards me slowly, placing a hand on my cheek. My own finding its place atop of his, as his free hand finds my waist.

"Dance with me?" I laugh lightly at him. His hand that was on my cheek moves to join the other at my waist.

"There is literally no music." He pulls me closer, placing a kiss on my cheek, then moving his head a little bit more so that his lips are aligned with my ear.

"Does that matter? Dance with me, Picasso." I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, interlocking my fingers. We sway slowly and in an almost complete silence, the only sound is the soft steps of our feet and the gentle spin of the washer.

I rest my head against his chest, I can hear his heart pound just a little harder, a smile finds its way onto my lips, loving the feeling of him holding me.

In that moment I felt a small moment of courage, "I think someone's been following me." I regret saying the words almost as soon as they came out my mouth.

Spencer hums in response, with my assumption that he was getting lost in the moment, and therefore not processing the words that I had spoken.

"Wait, what?" He pulls away slightly, his hands sitting at the top of my arms.

My eyes dart to the ground, I couldn't exactly lie now. My voice is quiet as I repeat my words to him. "Spencer, I think someone's been following me."

His right hand moves to my chin so that I could meet his worry filled eyes.

"What happened?" I move out of his grip to go into the kitchen, with him following my lead. He tries to take my hand for a second but I let go so that I can move to a cupboard to take out some mugs.

"Tea?" He nods, eyes still never leaving me. He takes a seat at the dining table while I make us both a cup of English Breakfast tea.

The kettle boils slowly, it's soft bubbling being the only noise in the house at that moment. I offer him milk and sugar, which he accepts the latter.

I sit with him at the large table once the hot drinks are made, me at the head, him to my right. My eyes stay focused on the steam that leaves my mug.

"I just kept getting some uneasy feelings, at first, and then I found some of my mail had been opened, and in that I got a strange package. I actually got it just before you showed up yesterday. It was the magazine with you and that actress in LA on the front cover, in the pool. And I-i had gotten angry because I thought I'd actually found a nice guy, and so I threw it across the room and there was a piece of paper in it. And-and it was my sketch from the day I met you, but it-it had been torn out of my notebook and was scribbled over and ruined." I take a breath and a sip of my tea.

"And then you showed up and I had so many emotions about it all." He placed his hand over mine, with me not even realising that it was shaking. "When I was outside at the bar, a man approached me. I didn't know who he was, but he knew my name." A quiet tear falls down my face. I swipe it away quickly. "God, I don't know why I keep crying so much."