nemesism // spencer reid angst

sharpener

It didn't take long for Spencer to drift off to sleep, and when he woke, he realized Derek wasn't in the bed. He panicked for a minute, scared that yet another person had left him. He calmed down slightly when he heard movement in the other room.

    Grunting, Spencer crawled out of bed and stretched. He followed the sound to the living room, stumbling down the hallway. His unsteady feet gave his presence away immediately and he saw Derek look up at him from the couch and smile. Spencer looked away, uncomfortable with the eye contact and still flustered from the last dregs of sleep still clutching onto him. It was then that he got a good look at the room.

    "Derek, how- what- when did you do this?" Spencer gasped, taking in the sight of his living room. The books he had left scattered on the floor were now placed back in their respective spots on his bookcase, food wrappers and soda cans relocated to the garbage and recycle bins - which must have been taken out already, because the bins were empty - and all of his knickknacks gently placed out on the various surfaces in the room. It was a complete and total change.

    "I woke up from our nap before you, so I went ahead and did this. I hope I put everything back in a good place, I wasn't sure where some of it belonged." Derek was grinning at Spencer's surprise, obviously ecstatic that Spencer could have somewhere to feel comfortable again.

    "Wow. Thank you so much!" He smiled softly before continuing, "Um, let me just," Spencer was mumbling as he walked around the room and carefully moved around the various knickknacks, "this is where I usually keep them. Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, it's just that order is really important to me..." He stood and carefully readjusted the candle on his bookcase, turning it around to face the right direction and scooting it ever-so-slightly to the side so it sat directly in the middle of the section it was in. Spencer could feel Derek's eyes on him and he bit his lip as he waited for Derek to speak.

    "Hey, it's fine. I understand you putting things back to their original spots, there's no need to apologize." Spencer turned to see the furrow forming on Derek's brow as he spoke. "What's up with the precision?" Derek's head tilted as he asked the question.

    "Um. I have OCD, it came with the autism. It manifests for me as precision, routine, and doing certain things in weird ways because it makes me feel better. And always doing things in even numbers." Spencer answered, face flushed in embarrassment. He was already feeling exposed from the previous night and this admission wasn't helping him feel any better.

    "Oh, that makes sense. How come I never see these things at work? Everything seems to be pretty intense here but you're so composed during the job." Derek didn't seem to be judging him, so Spencer decided to continue answering his questions.

    "I'm really good at masking. Putting up a front. It isn't until I get home that this," Spencer gestured to the room, "kind of thing happens. I bottle it up there and only let it out here."

    "That doesn't sound very healthy, pretty boy." Derek said, sounding slightly concerned.

    "It's better than losing it and having a meltdown at work. It wouldn't look good for anyone on the team if someone found me slitting my wrists in the FBI bathrooms." Spencer shot back, irritation beginning to bubble up. He was tired of being judged for the things he did to stay sane. Derek flinched at his frank response.

    "Spencer, that's not what I meant. Of course I don't want you to, um," Derek stumbled over his words as he searched for a better way of putting Spencer's statement, "to hurt yourself at work. I just worry that bottling it up may be contributing to all of this."

    "All of this?" Spencer asked heatedly.

    "The depression, fatigue, cutting, all of this horrible stuff you're dealing with." Derek responded calmly, opting to ignore Spencer's growing attitude.