David Rossi is but an eleventh grade English teacher, and the BAU are merely the gay and/or emotionally neglected children eating lunch in his classroom
I was bored, so I decided to make a compilation of sorts on my favorite autistic character, Dr. Spencer Reid. These have been piling up in my files, so prepare for a gif-style infodump.
Stimming
Self-stimulatory behavior often consists of repetitive movements. Reid is frequently seen fidgeting with his hands and other objects. He almost always talks with prominent hand movements. He also frequently touches his face. Reid occasionally spins in chairs, rocks back and forth, etc.
Missing Social Cues/Confusion in Social Situations
Despite his excellent profiling skills, his interactions with strangers and friends often leave Reid confused and causes him issues when trying to connect with people. He will miss jokes and sarcasm, take things literally, and occasionally gets uncomfortable when speaking publicly.
Infodumping, Hyperfocus, Special Interests
Reid’s special interests, as I have observed them, involve general knowledge seeking, criminology, Halloween, old foreign films, and sci-fi. Reid has a more rare trait of autistic people; savantism. If you believe in quantifying intelligence, Reid has an extremely high IQ (187), He also has an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute. When Reid is working a case, he frequently enters hyperfocus, ignoring everything else around him. Reid often goes into long-winded explanations of things and is oblivious to others’ frustration with his infodumping.
Sensory Issues
Reid doesn’t have as many obvious sensory seeking/avoidant behaviors as many other autistics, but it does manifest every once in a while. Reid is often uncomfortable with touching strangers, especially shaking hands. He has shown sensitivity to bright lights and loud sudden noises. Reid’s clothing choices also reflect his preference to be comfortable.
Coordination/Spatial Issues
Reid tends to display spatial awareness, coordination, and dexterity issues. He prefers academic pursuits, and ridicule in childhood further led to his aversion to physical activity/sports. He has also only very rarely been shown to drive a car, and takes the train to work. This may be due to difficulties with driving ability.
Appearance/Hygiene issues
Many autistic people struggle with basic hygiene and appearance upkeep. Reid’s hair, whether short or long, is almost always messy and unkempt. Reid’s clothes are often disheveled as well.
Trouble Regulating/Expressing Emotions
Reid tends to suppress his emotions much of the time, but when he experiences strong emotions they tend to pour out and seriously effect him in ways that don’t effect the rest of the team. Reid also tends to have odd/exaggerated facial expressions which may be a way of overcompensating for his struggles of expressing himself acceptably.
Additional stuff:
Avoiding Eye Contact
Going Non-Verbal (I’ve only ever seen this happen to Reid once)
Resistant to Change
Sitting Cross-legged (I’m not actually sure if this is an autistic trait but I always sit like this and so does Reid so I thought I’d include it)
So yeah, I hope that was informative. It was fun to make this post! Thanks for reading!
i think my saddest moment as an Australian was finding out that the rest of the world doesn’t say “never eat soggy weetbix” to figure out the order of the compass
Summary: Spencer Reid has always been soothed when people played with his hair. Especially when that someone was Derek Morgan.
Spencer couldn’t really explain it, but there was something so incredibly therapeutic about having someone play with his hair.
Spencer couldn’t really explain it, but there was something so incredibly therapeutic about having someone play with his hair.
When he has little and his mother was having one of her good days, she would run her fingers through his hair while she read to him in an attempt to keep herself grounded. That’s when he started to really enjoy the sensation. Those were his best childhood memories- laying beside his mother while she read him his favorite Sherlock story. It had always been A Scandal in Belgravia. Diana frequently told him that when he met the right girl, she should remind him of Irene Adler. He scoffed at the time, but what other reaction was a seven-year-old supposed to have?
Nobody played with his hair again until he got to college. He was fourteen, almost fifteen at the time, and in the middle of his years at CalTech. Spencer avoided social contact like the plague. College kids were particularly menacing when they weren’t babying him. He didn’t really have the opportunity to do normal college kid activities. He couldn’t drink, parties were a no-go, and no normal college student wanted a fourteen-year-old to be a part of their social life.
He eventually made friends. He had a simple friend group, though he’d describe them more as acquaintances who he sometimes shared Advanced Engineering homework with. He liked them okay, and he could keep up with the conversation just fine, with the exception of the occasional sarcastic comment.
They persuaded him to hang out in their dorms every so often, and Spencer absolutely despised the idea. He obliged anyway with a little encouragement from his mother’s daily letters, reminding him to make friends.
To this day, Spencer would never be able to describe what got into him that night. His best guess was he felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and desire to hang out with these people who he finally considered friends before they graduated.
He arrived at his friend’s dorm at the exact time she told him, calculating to the nearest second the amount of time he’d need to get dressed and walk to the building before arriving. When his friend Eliza opened the door, he could smell the overwhelming scent of alcohol drifting from the dorm room. He wanted to turn around and leave, but his obviously tipsy friend had already grasped his arm and was pulling him inside.
There weren’t a lot of people there, just the friends he typically hung out with. Spencer felt comforted by this, but it didn’t do too much to ease his nerves when he glanced at the bottles crowded on the little desk. When offered a drink, he turned it down, knowing too much about the effects of underage drinking and would gladly inform anyone he thought might need a lesson. But these were his friends and being the only sober one there was starting to make him uncomfortable. He didn’t think he could leave, not without having to explain why to a drunk Eliza. So, the next time he was offered a red solo cup, he hesitantly took it.
Looking down at the foreign liquid in his cup, Spencer knew this was going to be a bad idea. Every part of his brain told him not to drink it, but he took a sip anyway. He knew he was a lightweight, but how bad could one sip be?
Having finished the cup, he realized how bad one sip could be. Halfway through his drink, he wondered why he’d never done this before. It was thrilling, exciting, fun. His fuddled brain was finally calm. There were no random facts and concerns circling his mind anymore.
Upon reaching the end of his drink, he decided this was miserable and he’d never ever drink again. Spencer couldn’t even comprehend all the different emotions he went through during one drink. He felt that if he moved his head an inch, the entire contents of his stomach would come up.
Now being the drunkest of all his friends, they decided it was time to cut him off. Not that he’d take another drink if offered. Eliza put a steady hand on his back and he cautiously leaned into it. He kept his eyes clenched shut and tried to make the world stop spinning.
“You gonna make it, Spence?” she whispered in his ear.
Spencer nodded carefully but the movement only made him feel worse. He only had a split second to think before he was bolting out of his seat and stumbling to the toilet. He barely made it in time before everything in his stomach was coming up. He gagged, trying to get it all out while in immense pain. Much to his embarrassment, Eliza was right behind him, holding his hair back and rubbing a comforting hand up and down his spine.
Spencer gagged some more, the last of it landing in the toilet, before choking up some bile and finally easing himself away from the toilet seat. He leaned against the wall and willed every noise to stop. He wanted quiet darkness and for everything to stop spinning.
Eliza sat with her back against the wall next to him and guided Spencer’s head so that it was resting on his shoulder. He appreciated the gesture and completely melted when her fingers started combing through his curls. He sighed, imagining it was his mom playing with his hair while reading Sherlock Holmes. He liked it, he liked it a lot. The stress started to wear off the longer he sat with Eliza, and pretty soon he felt himself drifting off.
Spencer awoke in the morning, lying on Eliza’s bed while she was nestled under a blanket on the floor. Spencer deduced he was most likely carried back and decided it would be okay to walk back to his own dorm now. He stands up and immediately notices the deep ache in his head, but the world is not spinning anymore. He finds the Advil in the bathroom and trudges through the pain back to his own room. He didn’t drink for the rest of his college days.
That was the last time someone played with his hair until he started dating Derek.
Derek’s love language was affectionate nicknames and affectionate touches and Spencer loved every part of it. He loved it when Derek took his hand and called him Pretty Boy. He loved it when Derek pulled his feet into his lap while he watched football and Spencer read. He loved when Derek answered his phone calls with, “hey angel,” or “baby, sugar, or hon.” He loved it when Derek rubbed his shoulder when he looked tense or nervous. But more than anything, he loved when Derek lovingly played with his hair.
Derek first noticed Spencer’s delighted reaction to having his hair touched in the first couple of weeks of their relationship. Derek would ruffle his hair when he walked by and Spencer would provide him with the most heartwarming grin possible.
It was a few months into their relationship when Spencer suffered an unusual bout of air sickness on the jet ride back to Quantico. Derek laid down on the long bench in the jet and pulled Spencer against his chest, keeping one hand on his stomach and the other hand in his hair.
The moment Derek’s fingers started carding through his hair, Spencer’s muscles relaxed and sighed with contentment.
“That okay, pretty boy?” he asks.
Spencer nods. “More than okay.”
So Derek keeps playing with his hair, untangling the knots as he goes along. Spencer’s hair is soft, softer than he realized before. And it smells really good, which is a cliche Derek wished he hadn’t fallen for. It smells like cinnamon and fragrant flowers. It smells like the candles you burn in fall that really put you into the autumn spirit. He presses a quick kiss to the top of Spencer’s head before continuing the soothing motion.
Soon, Spencer’s breathing starts to even out and Derek can feel him falling asleep. He doesn’t stop playing with his hair until he’s sure Spencer’s asleep. Then, he wraps his other arm around him and holds him close until the jet lands.
Now knowing what a comfort it is to Spencer to have his hair played with, Derek does it way more often. Most of the time, he does it as a casual display of affection when hanging out in each other’s apartments or during a tough case.
The first time Derek experienced one of Spencer’s nightmares, they’d been dating for a little over six months. Derek was staying the night in Spencer’s apartment and the night had been peaceful so far.
Spencer is very much a cuddler, had Derek had just become used to it. There was just something so comforting and grounding about the weight of Spencer resting on his chest, his stray hairs tickling Derek’s nose. He loves how easily Derek could pull Spencer on top of him to cuddle him closer.
Derek is a very slight sleeper and he notices immediately when Spencer’s breathing started to speed up in his sleep. Concerned, he rubs Spencer’s bicep hesitantly in an attempt to comfort him. Spencer starts wiggling now and his face screws up in pain.
“Reid?” he whispers. When he gets no response from the obviously distressed man, he reaches over Spencer to flick the lamp on. Reid continues to squirm but now Derek can see the thin layer of sweat covering his body and the way his fingers are moving like how they fidgeted when he was thinking, except now they were moving at hyper speed.
Wanting desperately to relieve his boyfriend of any and all pain, Derek grasps Spencer’s shoulders and gives him a firm shake in a fruitless attempt to wake him. Spencer continues to writhe, but now he’s making noise. He’s whining, groaning even. His cheeks are wet with tears that are slowly seeping from his eyes.
Derek honestly doesn’t know what to do. He knew Spencer had nightmares, but he’d never seen one before. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone have a nightmare. It was usually himself that would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.
It isn’t until Derek moves his hand to Spencer’s hair as a last resort that the younger man calms and stops the noises that break Derek’s heart. He stills in Derek’s arms and finally opens his eyes, but the tears don’t stop.
Derek doesn’t say anything. He just pulls Spencer into his chest and rests his head on his collarbone. He strokes the soft curls that were tickling his nose meer hours ago. He refrains from shushing Spencer because he knows he needs to cry. He needs to let it all out and Derek will be there to hold him through the whole thing. He feels Spencer’s eyelashes fluttering against his bare shoulder and presses a lingering kiss to the top of his head.
Derek moves his hand momentarily to grab the glass of water off the nightstand and Spencer whines.
“Hey, it’s okay. I just need you to drink some water, alright?” he soothes.
Spencer takes the glass from Derek with shaky hands and Derek cups the genius’s fingers with his own to hold the cup steady. Slowly, Reid takes a sip, and then another until Derek is satisfied and returns the glass to the nightstand. He wastes no time in returning his hand to Reid’s hair and watch him visibly relax at the touch. Now that he’s had something to drink and his breathings evened out, he asks, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Spencer nods at first, out of instinct, but stops himself. Then he hesitantly shakes his head no and looks up at Derek with wide, brown eyes.
“Talk to me, Reid,” Derek whispers. Spencer sighs.
“I was dreaming about Tobias,” he says so quietly that Derek can barely hear. “He had me. I was back there but instead of asking me who to kill, he asked me who should replace me. I didn’t answer though, Derek I swear. But he took you anyway. He took you and he forced me to watch as he beat you and I-I couldn’t stand i-it.” His voice breaks on the last part.
Derek feels his own heart breaking as his boyfriend explains the horrific images his brain conjured in his sleep. He subtly rocks them back and forth in an attempt to calm his own nerves in addition to Spencer’s.
“It’s okay, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” he says because it’s the only thing he can think to say.
Spencer moves his hand from where it’s curled up in a fist in his lap to the quilt covering Derek’s legs. He runs his long fingers over the fabric and Derek can tell he’s trying to soothe himself with the texture. He takes the blanket and drapes it over the two of them, pulling it snug over Reid’s shoulders and securing an arm around him as he lays back against the pillows.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles.
“Don’t be,” Derek assures him and continues his task of playing with Spencer’s long hair.
It doesn’t take long for Spencer to fall back asleep, but it takes Derek a little longer. He can’t help thinking about Spencer’s dream. What if it had been him over Reid? God, he wished it was. He’d do anything to take that experience away from Reid. If Emily were there, she would say it’s no use worrying about what could have been, but she isn’t there. It’s just the two of them.
Shadows from the blinds dance across the ceiling. It’s almost silent except for the occasional loud car and Spencer’s deep breaths. Finally, Derek’s eyes close and remain that way, but his hand never leaves Reid’s hair.
Jennifer Jareau was such an important step in our journey towards positive Women Who Hate Men And Are Mean To Them But Are Always Nice To Other Women representation 💕 #thankyouJJ #WeLoveJennifer
i'm crying at Reid's tendency to get rid of the vest at ant given time someone is not watching him sksdjsj I'm sure they threatened him at least once that they will superglue it to him if he takes it off one more time
Hotch hands out roles for everyone before a raid and 9/10 times someone is put on “don’t let Reid take his vest off this time” duty. It’s usually Morgan. Brute force and grumpy eyebrows seem to do the trick most of the time.
Reid, being strapped back into his vest by an angry looking Morgan: it’s uncomfy :(
Even angrier looking Hotch: do you know what else is uncomfy?
I love how Rocket is basically the tiny, yappy dog next door who thinks he’s a lot bigger than he actually is and barks at all the big dogs because he thinks he’s intiminating but will be picked up and coddled by literally everyone anyway.
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