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Spencer Reid shines like the sun. Every morning, Derek watches in awe as Spencer bounces around the BAU with a renowned energy, excitedly rambling about some new fact or statistic he learned from the morning paper. His hazel eyes always sparkle brightly, full of an innocence Derek desperately wants to protect. He is beautiful, in all the ways the sun is beautiful, casting his light over every person he comes in contact with. He's all soft smiles, gentle touches — a warmness that can only come from the sun.
Derek Morgan is as gentle as the moon. Spencer loves every part of it — the way Derek can transition from being soft and sweet to downright protective — or the way Derek's glow is caused by his own. Mornings with Derek are always soft, and sweet — quiet, in the ways that have all of the tension melting from Spencer's limbs. It's gentle cuddles and soft whispers and sweet kisses that feel like stars. Derek is kind, in the way that the moon is kind, using it's reflections to guide wanderers home. He is stability — stability in the only way the moon can bring.
Of course, the sun need his moon, and the moon needs his sun, and Spencer and Derek are never far apart from one another. Always in each other's orbit, always aware of the other's presence.
Sunlight gently streams in through the blinds, painting soft rays of light across Spencer's face. He groans, blinking his eyes open and squinting against the bright light. A headache is pounding behind his temples. Pain laces itself through his muscles — dull and sharp, all at the same time, making his teeth grit together in discomfort. His nose burns with each inhale he takes, causing his eyes to water — it's not like he can take a comfortable breath in anyway — he's congested, his nose stuffy.
He turns over to lay on his back, eyeing the open bedroom door. His attention is drawn to the distant humming coming from the kitchen, with the occasional bangs and clangs that clues Spencer in to the fact that Derek is cooking.
Spencer snuggles deeper into the sheets, cocooning himself in the warm blankets laying over the side of his bed. He tilts his head back, trying to ease the discomfort of breathing in through his nose. His throat is sore — so, so sore — and he sighs in frustrations.
Spencer hates being sick. It's a sensory nightmare — all the sore joints and stiff muscles and congestion, and fuck his life if he develops a fever, because then he has hot flashes and that makes everything else that much more miserable. Sometimes he likes to tell himself that being sick is worse than when he went through withdrawal. He wishes he had magic, so he could cure himself at the drop of a hat.
Movement near the door draws his attention. He tilts his head, smiling softly when he sees Derek standing in the doorway, holding a tray filled to the brim with healthy foods and a big glass of orange juice.
"Good morning, pretty boy," Derek whispers, walking over to his side of the bed. He sets the tray down on the side table, helping Spencer prop himself up against the headboard. Spencer's heart flutters in his chest as Derek makes sure to support his back with many, many pillows.
"Good morning." Spencer rasps, wincing as the action scratches at his throat.
"Oh, baby…" Derek murmurs, laying his hand across Spencer's forehead as he situates himself on the edge of the bed, "You sound horrible."
"Thanks." Spencer mumbles, which is met with a boisterous laugh, and a glass of water being shoved in his face.
"You know I didn't mean it like that, Spence," Derek replies, helping him tilt the glass up to his lips.
The cool water hits his tongue, and he greedily laps at the edge of the glass, gulping it down without a second thought. It feels heavenly against his hot, sore throat, and before he knows it, he's already finished with the glass.
He pouts as Derek pulls the glass away, his head falling back against the headboard as he lets out a soft whine. "I feel horrible."
Derek gives him a sympathetic smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. "I know, baby, I know."
Spencer lets out another whine, leaning into Derek's touch. "You're so nice to me."
"Don't I know it," Derek responds softly, leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss to his forehead, "now, c'mon, pretty boy, let's get some food in you."
Spencer melts underneath his kiss, smiling softly as Derek shifts to grab the tray from the side table. He gently places it in Spencer's lap, and Spencer's expression softens when he sees the display in front of him.
In the middle of the arrangement sits a plate of avocado toast with eggs and bacon — Derek has placed them in such a way that it forms a smiley face. Next to that is a smaller bowl of fruit — banana, apple, and orange slices, along with some grapes and strawberries. The final plate of food is a simple stack of pancakes, coated in syrup.
Spencer blinks, eyes wide. There's even a little paper cup that has some sudafed and ibuprofen.
Spencer looks up at Derek, smiling softly at him. "Oh, honey… you really didn't have to make all of this! I'm not even sure I can eat it all."
Derek slides into the bed next to him, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping them into his mouth. "Who said I made it all for you, pretty boy?"
Spencer glares at him, playfully swatting Derek's hand away. "No! No, no, you made it for me, so you don't get any!"
Derek pouts, leaning against Spencer's shoulder. "Oh, c'mon, please?"
"No."
Derek huffs, shaking his head with a smile. "Fine, fine. Eat up, pretty boy."
Spencer scarfs the food down, obviously more hungry than he realized, washing it all down with the orange juice.
Derek raises an eyebrow when he pointedly avoids taking the medicine.
"Spencer, baby. Take your meds."
"Nothing escapes you, does it, Derek?"
"Not in the slightest."
Spencer sighs, shaking his head before tipping back the paper cup and swallowing the medication down.
"Good boy," Derek teases, ruffling a hand through his hair. Spencer squawks, giggling as he bats Derek's hand away, smiling brightly when Derek laughs and pulls him into a hug.
They both flop down onto the bed, with Derek moving the food tray, before Derek pulls him into a tight hug. One that tells Spencer they aren't leaving anytime soon.
A thought has him raising his head, "Wait, did you–?"
"I already notified Hotch, pretty boy. Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing — just focus on getting better."
Spencer sighs, melting into Derek's embrace, nuzzling his face into his chest. Exhaustion tugs at his consciousness, pulling him into a deep, warm sleep.
He almost misses the way Derek kisses the top of his head, murmuring a quiet, "I love you."