Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

Spencer Reid had been through a lot to get here. Gideon helped with a ton of it but not everything can be solved by a founding father of the BAU. Gideon couldn't help that Spencer had a family history of mental illness, or that he had not one athletic bone in his body. Suffice to say that Spencer was extremely excited when Hotch had told them about what would be his first traveling case. Among things Gideon couldn't help was that Spencer didn't know what was in store. Some things just had to be experienced in Jason's opinion, as unpleasant as it may be.

"Garcia, catch us up to speed." Hotch ordered.

"Sir yes sir! You, my lovely crime fighting friends, are headed to Oklahoma. Home of the… nothing. Home of the absolutely nothing."

"The point, miss Garcia?" Gideon drawled, checking the clock.

"Yes, right. We have three murders - hello federal jurisdiction - grabbed from their homes and dumped on the local park benches to look like sleeping homeless people."

"Pretty brazen." JJ commented. "Do we have COD on the victims?"

"So far they've all been given a cocktail of illegal substances, supposedly to induce overdose." Garcia reported.

Spencer decided it might be best to stay quiet for the back and forth. Being the new one to the team meant he didn't quite know where he fit yet. He listened intently enough to catch that he'd be going to the station with Gideon, but trying to stifle his movements meant that he was all wound up and ready to spin like a top the second he got some alone time. 

The precinct wasn't much help with this. Too much energy going in and nowhere to get it out. As usual, this meant the extra energy came out of his mouth, partnered with a side of raptor arms that could usually be played off as a typical thinking pose. 

"So you're saying this guy gets off on the fact that nobody knows the person laying on the bench is dead?" An officer asked, having overheard Spencer talking aloud when he came in to offer a fresh pot of coffee.

"Actually what we were theorizing is that he feels as if nobody notices his pain and thus the body on th-"

"Kid," The officer cuts him off. "If I wanted a rant from a child I'd go home and listen to my daughter talk about ponies. And a word of advice - know your place. You've been getting on everyone's nerves all day with the tapping and the humming and the encyclopedia shit ya' got goin' on. Tone it down, bet the FBI draws the line at children who can't hold their tongues and act like morons."

Spencer was speechless. With that, the officer turned on his heel and left. 

Chapter Text

Spencer Reid knew what a stimulant was. He knew that coffee was a stimulant. That's why he was so surprised at how many comments he got on the amount of coffee he drank. It was Morgan who finally made him ask.

"Why do you all comment on how I'm not jittery? I don't see how that has anything to do with coffee."

Confusion passed over Morgans features. "Because it's coffee? A cup is nice to wake up in the morning but you get over two or three cups and you start to get really hyper, ya know?"

"Why would coffee make you hyper? All it does is up brain productivity."

"Pretty boy, your body's ability to stand upright after all of the crap you put in it amazes me." He patted Spencer on the shoulder and left him with more questions than answers.

When he got home that night, Spencer decided to do some research. He opened up his computer(he may be a technophobe but not to the extent that he couldn't appreciate a good research tool) and searched for the effects of coffee. Somewhere in the midst of the night and medical papers on the uses and risks of coffee, an especially intriguing paragraph caught his eye;

The effects of coffee are most interestingly recorded in those with attention, sleep, and developmental disorders. While in the typical adult subject, coffee may cause nervousness, insomnia, tremors, and other undesirable effects, people with the previously mentioned disorders often have the opposite effect. 

Huh. The gears in Spencer's brain didn't want to grind as much as they did, so he came to the conclusion slowly. A sleep disorder would be eliminated, apart from some insomnia his sleep was relatively normal. Developmental disorders were a possibility but not something he was willing to touch after he just had such a large change in jobs. Leaving only attention disorders. If he remembered the DSM correctly(and he always did) he would most likely fit into the category of ADHD. Spencer's head fell as far back as it could from his current position and let out a groan. The more he thought about what people with ADHD struggled with, the more he realized he needed accommodations. This was not a meeting he wanted to have.

~

"Dr. Reid, come in." Chief Strauss greeted. Spencer waved in response and went to sit in the chair provided. 

"Hello, Chief Strauss. I was wondering if you had any spare time to talk? I have some questions regarding a diagnosis I recently received."

"A diagnosis? Nothing serious I hope?"

"No ma'am, a neurodevelopmental disorder, actually. Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder."

"I see."

"Yes and I was actually wondering, I talked to me doctor and we decided it might benefit my mental health and my work in the field if I could request some accommodations-"

"I'll have to stop you right there Dr. Reid." Spencer's mouth snapped shut. "Here's my problem, and I'm sure you understand, I don't believe you have a disorder. I just can't see it. I've been trained in psychology and I've seen children with ADHD, but never an adult."

She continued before his brain could manage to come up with an articulate response. "You see, clinically, ADHD is not something that stays with you into adulthood. It's more of a behavioral issue that children deal with."

"Chief Strauss I think you really might benefit from reading some of the newest studies on ADHD, research in the past has been-"

"I assure you, Dr. Reid, I am up to date in my research. Unfortunately I cannot provide you with any... accommodations. I'm sorry, if you don't mind I have another meeting I need to be off to." And with that she swept out of the office, leaving a speechless Spencer in her wake.

Once the young doctor got his bearings, he popped into Hotch's office. The only thing on his mind was going home, drinking a nice cup of tea, and drowning his sorrows in a nice romance novel. Spencer knocked on the doorframe of his boss's office. 

"Come in."

"Hi, sorry I don't- I don't feel very good, I think I- um, I think I should go home." Hotch's brow furrowed, concerned for the youngest of the team. 

"Okay, that's fine. I can disperse your paperwork for now... You are looking a little pale."

"Thanks, I think I might have eaten something bad. It came on pretty suddenly."

"It's okay, just take care of yourself. You might want to ask Gideon for a ride home, he pops out early on Mondays." Hotch offered a small smile.

"Thanks, I just might do that. I think I'll be good by tomorrow but, um, I'll let you know if I'm not." Spencer offered as much of a smile as he could to make sure the man knew he was okay enough not to be mother henned.

Of course Spencer was a liar and caught the train home, not that he remembered much with the thick fog that had settled over his thoughts (it's a behavior issue for kids it's not a real disorder nobody believes you you're a liar liar liar liar lia r l i a r). There was no sugar for his tea when he got home.

Chapter Text

3.

It looked a little odd, he'd admit. He was a gangly young guy riding around on one of those electric carts that the store provided, he looked like he had just left high school. But his knee had been killing him after the week long case they just had in the rocky mountains, and he was in the limbo space of when the prescription strength ibuprofen ran out and the normal Tylenol didn't quite cover the pain enough, and he just wanted his favorite tea and a new pair of those aloe infused socks dammit! He had waffled back and forth upon getting to the store but eventually the need to not be in excruciating pain after this trip won out and he had to remind himself that he was, in fact, physically disabled right now. 

It seemed that as soon as he started looking for what he needed, the stares started. Every time he passed someone he caught them staring just a little, every time he hauled himself to his feet to get something he couldn't reach sitting down he heard someone scoff. And then he heard the things people said. 

"G-d, really?"

"So fucking lazy."

"Oh yeah I bet he really needs to use that."

"Did you see that? He stood up, he can't possibly need to use a cart!"

And then, as he stood up on his good leg to open the fridge for some milk, he heard it.

"Watch out for the faker."

"Ugh"

Later he wished he would have turned around and given the middle aged woman and her daughter a piece of his mind, told them that he was shot taking down a serial killer. But instead what he did was freeze. Spencer froze for three full seconds, milk in hand, and then he put the milk in his cart, got in the seat, and left. He used self checkout because he didn't know how he could face another person right now. He didn't know if he would break if the cashier made a comment about him using the cart.

It was only when he got to the car that he let it bother him. Only when he was alone did he let himself feel beaten down by a stranger, and guilty that he had to leave the cart outside just like the sign specifically said not to do because his knee still felt like it was going to break. Again.

Chapter Text

4.

The date was going great! Prentiss had set him up with a girl that she knew from a Russian film she went to see, and Spencer was having the time of his life. 

"You did not!" Evie had exclaimed, snorting through the pasta she had ordered. They had gone to an authentic Italian diner.

"I did!" Spencer shot back. "He was completely infantilizing me because of my file and it was ridiculous!"

"Why, what's in your file?" She asked, pretending to be scandalized.

"I have an autism diagnosis but honestly that's no reason for him to tell me to calm down, I'm not gonna go off the rails because one guy was being a dick."

He paused in bringing his forkful up to his mouth. Evie had stopped eating and now had a look on her face that he couldn't quite place.

"What?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"I just, I didn't realized that you were mentally retarded…"

Now it was Spencer who stopped eating.

"I'm not. And they don't say mental retardation anymore. It's intellectual disability." He corrected."Do you have a problem with me being autistic? Because I would much rather know before we go any further on this date."

She paused. "I'm sorry," she said, gathering her things. "I just don't feel right dating someone who can't consent properly." And with that she left. She was out of the door, sticking Spencer with the bill before he could even respond.

Chapter Text

5.

It had been a rough week. Being framed for murder and drugged beyond belief usually puts you in distress. He was in jail and he had so many things on his mind, one of which was how loud, and scratchy, and cold, and anxiety inducing, and hellish prison was. After the fifth night of sleeping on the floor because anything was better than the bedding the prison provided, he got so fed up with wanting to vomit because the texture of the food was wrong that he had to go see the doctor provided. 

"You want me to ask for accommodations?"

"Please, I know it's not something that usually happens in prison but I just, I can't handle it anymore." Spencer explained, now feeling stupid for even thinking that in prison they would care about what he needed.

"Mr. Reid," and didn't that make him cringe. "I have other inmates who can't get accommodations for actual medical conditions. The only other option would be to put in for a transfer to an institution-"

"I understand. I get it, I just, it was just a little too much today and I know that accommodations aren't something attainable right now. Sorry." He knew, rationally, that an institution could give him accommodations that he needed. But in the front of his mind, in blaring, bright, red letters, was the idea that being institutionalized meant he was just like his mother.

Chapter Text

+1

"I just don't see why you had to go and blow yourself up like that." Hotch scolded, glaring a bit at Spencer, who was now confined to a hospital bed. The nurse popped in.

"Hello! I'm just here to take vitals a minute, is that okay?" Spencer nodded, glad for a small break from being reminded how it was not a smart move to jump in front of a bomb. Alas.

"You know this means you have to take time off, right?" Rossi reminded with a cheeky smile. Spencer let out a groan and proceeded to explain just why he had to jump in front of a bomb. "Not that you know any of this, ya' know, as an official non-member of the FBI." 

"Oh, of course not." Hotch replied with the same joking tone. 

Spencer stopped in his tracks as he felt ice pour through his veins. By the time he got over the dizziness and got his head on straight to ask what the nurse had given him, she was gone.

"-cer, Spencer!" Hotch had apparently been repeating his name for a few seconds. "You okay?" He chuckled a bit before seeing the mounting horror on Spencer's face. 

"What? What's wrong?" Rossi asked.

"What did they give me?" Spencer asked, voice low and gravelly. 

"I think a little Dilaudid for the pain, why?" Rossi clarified.

He was going to vomit. Spencer was going to lose what little food he had in his body all over the bed.

"Before I say anything I need to know that you aren't required to report anything to the FBI. Rossi, if you are, leave the room so you can have plausible deniability."

"Hotch isn't required, and I am of the mindset that snitches get stitches. Erin and I would have been in a lot of trouble if I wasn't." Spencer nodded a little too much.

"Do you remember the Hankel case?" Rossi looked confused. "Hotch, could you…" 

"About ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He was held and tortured for three days."

"Spencer I-" Rossi started, but Spencer interrupted him, with his eyes forced shut as he leaned forward.

"And drugged."

"What?" Hotch wondered, loud enough for both of them.

"Hankel had a drug problem, Dilaudid. He, he thought he was helping me." Hotch and Rossi couldn't find their words. Spencer's eyes opened again. "I asked for a moment alone after everyone found me. He had more in his pocket. I was addicted for about six months after."

"You weren't going to a movie." Hotch realized after a moment.

"What?" Rossi was lost once again.

"He almost missed the plane once, about four months after. He told me he was going to a movie."

"In my defense, I was under the impression that you understood what I was saying."

"You thought I knew?"

"Yeah, I thought it was a plausible deniability thing." Hotch was appalled to say the least.

"So you thought I would choose my job over your health?" Spencer stared for a moment.

"Well it sounds stupid when you put it like that."

"For the record," Rossi started. "None of us would choose our jobs over you. I think every one of us would rather risk being fired than risk you." There was silence as Reid collected himself and offered a small 'thanks'.

"So, why would they give you Dilaudid? I assume with your chances of being hospitalized that you would've had them put a note in your chart." Hotch asked.

"I did, but I also have a note that says I'm not fit to make my own medical decisions."

"Why would you have that?" Rossi wondered.

"Because some ER doctor took one look at my autism diagnosis and decided that I wasn't fit. I only found out about it later and you can imagine how willing people are to take a note like that off of your chart."

Rossi nodded in thought. "That's some bullshit." 

~

About an hour later, when the nurse came to check Reid's vitals again, Hotch got up and stopped her from going anywhere near him.

"Excuse me, I'd like to speak to the doctor in charge of his care before anyone touches him again. I'm his medical proxy." She looked startled for a moment before asking for his ID and going to fetch the doctor.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Lambert. How can I help you?" The doctor asked, picking up the chart at the end of Spencer's bed.

"Yes, I'd like to know why Dr. Reid was given narcotics when it's specifically stated in his chart that he requested to not have any?" The doctor flipped through the chart momentarily, checking something over.

"Well, it looks like he's been marked unfit to make medical decisions for himself."

"And you think that's an appropriate label...why?" Rossi asked, from his spot by Spencer's bed.

"Well it states that the decision was made due to an autism diagnosis." 

"And who decided? Because I'm sure you know, that decision can only be made by a court." Hotch asked.

"It looks like a Dr. Faulkner marked his chart but I'm not seeing the court order to back it up. I'm so sorry, Dr. Reid." The doctor looked a bit scared for his life at the pure rage Hotch was holding back.

"So to clarify, because he is currently out of his mind on drugs right now, you'll remove the marker and replace it with one that says he isn't to have narcotics, right?"

"Yes, of course, but can I ask why you've requested no narcotics, Dr. Reid? I have to specify if it's past addiction, an allergy, family history, and so on." Reid paused for a moment, making sure to control his mouth before answering.

"Family history. My dad's side has a problem with addiction and I have more of an addictive personality than I'd like."

"Thanks, I'll get that changed right away."

"Oh, and could you bring back a copy of the changed file? I'd like to make sure everything is in order, as his attorney." Hotch requested.

"Yes, as long as I get Dr. Reid's consent."

"You have my consent to give him whatever he needs." Reid affirmed from the bed, words slurring a bit.

The doctor promptly left and sent a copy of the chart back with a nurse.

~

Later that night, after Spencer had been released from the hospital and decided to stay at Rossi's, they invited the rest of the team over, plus Derek. 

"So it's come to my attention that you all thought I hated Emily when she first joined the team." Reid started, some people tensed and some people spit out drinks. "And before I explain myself, because I really have to, if anyone here is not okay with keeping secrets from the higher ups, leave the room now."

"Spence, snitches get stitches. Spill." Safe to say that JJ had a glass too many. Nevertheless everyone nodded in agreement.

"I always did wonder why you didn't like me at first." Emily said.

"Here's the thing: I actually did like you, but I was kinda in the middle of heroin withdrawal at the time." Anyone who made the unfortunate mistake of taking a drink at that moment had quickly come to regret it as they were now choking on it. 

"I'm sorry what?" Garcia almost shouted. "Boy wonder you need to start explaining if you want any cookies at the end of this story!"