masterpiece; spencer reid x reader

chapter six; the morning after

[TW: throwing up]

chapter six

YOU COULDN'T DECIDE which was worse to wake up to; the pounding headache, or the memories of last night.

Had you actually drunkenly cussed out your coworker, fell asleep on his shoulder in a taxi, and invited him to attend your lecture to 'prove' art classes were hard? You really wished it was a bad dream, but judging by the strings of your dress digging into your back, it had been all too real.

The embarrassment that rushed through you was suddenly sickening. How could you be so careless? Just the thought of facing Spencer, in your own class no less, made you want to vomit. Or actually, maybe you just had to puke.

You flew out of bed and emptied the contents of your stomach into the porcelain fixture in the corner of your bathroom. In between the waves of nausea, you looked at your phone for the time. You were running way late but you didn't feel like standing up was an option at this point. You leaned dejectedly against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cold paint to try to cool down, to no avail. You couldn't call in sick for a hangover; that's not how you wanted to get fired and you were far off from getting tenure.

So, carrying the small trash can from the bathroom at your side, you made the trek to your room to get ready. With all your strength, you fought down the rising lump in your throat as you searched for your most business-like comfy clothes. Curse Saturday classes.

You decided on a light-wash pair of jeans and the comfiest sweater you have; not too dressed up but enough to be presentable. You hoped that today wasn't the day Spencer would decide to stop by your class since not only did you look like a living zombie, you had nothing planned. Shit.

It only takes you another two minutes to get out the door and into your car, since you forget your coffee and leave your shoes untied in an effort to save time. The drive to campus was admittedly maybe a bit faster than you cared to admit, but it did the job just fine as you drifted your way into the parking lot.

You truly did feel like a dead person walking as you shuffled into the art building. Since you decided to forgo makeup that morning, you could almost feel your eye bags sinking into your face as you passed students and staff.

"Have a fun night last night?" One of your fellow professors asks you. Your eyes widen exponentially. You thought Spencer said no one noticed your drunken state?

"What do you mean by that?" Yes. Play dumb. Admit to nothing. Perfect.

"Dr. Reid and you sure made a quick getaway at the exact same time, right?" The look in his eyes gave you the creeps, but at least he just thought you and Spencer were hooking up.

Wait, that's totally worse.

"Uh, it's totally not whatever you're thinking." You say bluntly, watching him fumble over his apology. Good. "My uber cancelled so he helped me hail a cab." That was believable, right?

"I'm sorry for assuming, Ms. L/N." You had to admit you found some joy in watching his embarrassment. You simply nod coldly and continue your way to your lecture hall.

When you walk in, one of your favorite students is sitting near the front row.

"Woah Ms. L/N, have a long night?" She chuckled, surely referring to your disgruntled appearance.

You didn't take the comment so kindly. So what, you're their professor and yeah, you're a little hungover. So what? You choose to ignore the comment and begin your lecture. It was about facial structure and composition, since you were scheduled to be painting portraits in the studio for the next week or two. Your powerpoint was less than polished, but it conveyed the information it needed to, and the students seemed at least mostly engaged. Well, as engaged as they could be on a Saturday morning.