MOCKINGBIRD | Spencer Reid ✔️

⠀⠀⠀ fifty five

He made a show of arranging the slippers on the ground where she could step into them, and put the nightgown in a drawer in the bedside table.

"I'll go put the other stuff in the – bathroom." He pointed at that room unnecessarily.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he laid everything out carefully on the basin. The man who stared back at him looked tired – his eyes with dark circles beneath them, and a look that was both manic and melancholy.

He returned to Scout, determined to remain upbeat. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head but remained silent.

"Did they deliver dinner while I was gone?"

She nodded.

"Was it good?"

"I didn't eat it."

"What? Why?"

"I wasn't hungry."

After a short silence, he continued as if she had not spoken. "I love cafeteria food. It kind of reminds me of the food that we used to eat in high school. Mystery meat, some weird vegetable in artificial cream sauce..." He trailed off, sneaking a look at her from the corner of his eye before continuing.

"One time, I was in here because of a case  – don't ask how that happened – " He looked at her knowingly, "And I woke up and was so hungry, so I looked around the room, and you'll never guess who I saw sitting next to me." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Morgan. And while I was out, he raised my dinner and ate the one thing I wanted most out of the whole meal. It was my stinking Jello cup." He gave a short laugh.

"Who knew that Derek Morgan had a taste for Jello? I thought it was only me."

He waited for her reaction, but she remained silent, looking out the window at the street lights in the distance.

After a long moment, he reached out and took her hand, and she allowed him that.

"Love, come on, talk to me." She did not respond.

"Maybe – maybe we can call your mom and you can talk to her? Would you like that?"

At that, Scout's head snapped to him. "No. Absolutely not."

He sighed. "Crap, Scout. Why?"

"Because I don't want her here, that's why."

"We're going to have to tell her sometime." This was a familiar argument.

"There's no rush, though, is there? I'm not going to be any less pregnant if we don't tell her for a couple days." She sighed, and slid her hand out of his. "I just don't want to see her right now, Spence. I don't want to see the sympathy on her face – or the pity."

She saw that he was about to speak, and she forestalled him by raising a hand. "It's not that she's an ogre – or anything. I just – can't." She shook her head.