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Spencer Reid liked to think of himself as a relatively intelligent person. He had three Ph.D.’s, and two B.A.’s. He was well educated in how the human mind worked, had published multiple papers, and was performing well in the job of his own choosing. Objectively, he was smart, a genius even. He had an IQ of one hundred and eighty-seven and an eidetic memory to pair with it. He was smart.
Logically he knew that there was no reason for him to be feeling self-conscious, one of his Bachelor art’s degrees was in psychology! It was perfectly fine for him to want to have comforts, and he could recall reading about many techniques during his studies. It was healthy, even, given how stressful his job was.
That didn’t help him as he stood in the middle of a children’s toy aisle staring down one of the softest stuffed animals he’d ever seen. Not only was the texture perfect, but the light blue color was calming and appealing to look at. The colors blue and green were associated with calm and healing, green more so with harmony to diffuse anxiety, and blue with encouraging a powerful sense of calm to help with stress management. Spencer liked blue.
Spencer knew that the reason he was feeling unsure was because of societal standards, both surrounding masculinity, though he had never quite fit into those standards anyway, and those associated with differences in childhood and adult maturity. Though you weren’t supposed to diagnose yourself Spencer could guarantee he had many different forms of childhood trauma from where he was forced to grow up fast, due as much to his intelligence as the need to take care of his mom after his dad left. He had been putting off addressing that can of worms since he was a preteen, and wasn’t planning to go tell someone else all of his woes anytime soon.
It was just- well, he’d been struggling recently. After working a case he’d get home, and be getting ready to sleep when he got the urge, the need, to have something nearby to protect him. Initially, he’d thought it was leftover anxiety from the case, but leaving his gun on his bedside table had only made him more on edge. It was nights like that where he couldn’t force himself to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, and that he would change into the softest pair of pajamas he owned.
It didn’t take long for Spencer to start looking for answers. It was likely due to stress catching up to him, though the more childish anxieties and mindset are what caused him to first suspect it had something to do with his upbringing. He ended up dismissing it not long after, sure his childhood wasn’t easy, but he had unpacked and come to terms with his inability to do everything on his own when he had first turned eighteen and had his mom committed.
There was something buzzing in the back of Spencer’s mind that led him to pull out one of his old psychology textbooks, flipping through the pages until his eyes stopped on two words.
It was natural, he told himself, working up the courage to pluck the plushie off the shelf. It didn’t mean anything, it was a coping mechanism and was just as valid as any other, albeit a bit less typical. It also made sense in connection to the lack of exploration he was allowed to do in his childhood and the responsibilities that were forced upon him at a young age.
No one would even have to know. It’s not like his teammates came to his apartment often, and even if someone saw it it wasn’t like they would see him negatively because he had a stuffed animal. Garcia would be overjoyed and insist on giving him more as soon as she found out he liked them, though he could already imagine the teasing Morgan and Prentiss would do when if they ever knew. Perhaps he was also so hesitant due to the fact that he was already considered the ‘baby’ of the team. He was much younger than all of his teammates, and while they respected and valued his contributions it was undeniable that they also were more protective of him, and often treated him like a child rather than an adult.
Spencer decided to come back to the aisle, choosing to wander around a bit more as he worked his confidence back up. He knew he had hit the nail on the head when just the sight of the stuffed animals alone had put him at ease, but that did not make it any easier to accept. Everyone coped differently, and he should embrace one of the healthier coping mechanisms he naturally seemed to lean towards, but it went against everything he had trained himself to do.
Spencer found his feet subconsciously taking him to the book selection. He looked over authors of crime novels, romance, and fantasy, looking more at the cover images than paying attention to the titles. As he continued to the next aisle over he paused. It was more books, but they were filled with color, textures, and some that even made noise.
Books were easy, they had been a part of Spencer since before he could remember. Spencer couldn’t think of a single time he’d read an actual children’s book. His mom had always read him classics, even before they had realized he was different. His dad let it happen, though he made sure his mom had thrown in nursery rhymes and fairy tales into the mix.
He had never had one of those colorfully covered books to call his own.
It was all too easy to pick one up off the shelf, it was textured to resemble animals. Dogs, cats, a pig, horse, were on the cover in front of a barn, though he assumed there may be more inside. On the cover, Spencer was able to feel the straw of the farmer’s hat as well as the fuzz of a piece of wheat hanging out of the side of his mouth.
Looking around nervously Spencer held the book against his chest. There was an unfamiliar excitement that ran through his veins. Innocent and pure child-like excitement. Spencer walked a few aisles over to the seasonal display and picked out a few pieces of candy and a package of bubbles that had caught his eye. Everything he held was colorful and bright as he made his way back to where the blue stuffed bunny was on the third shelf from the floor. Without letting himself think he plucked it up and added it to the pile growing in his arms.
He went through the self-checkout, afraid that he might lose his sudden burst of confidence if he were forced to look at a cashier face to face. He paid for his items, double-bagging them for security, and began his walk back to the bus stop that would take him home.
Once the outside the realization of what he did seemed to have caught up with him. He forced himself to remain calm, it wasn’t like buying childish things as an adult was bad, but it seemed to seal the deal. He would of course experiment more before he felt comfortable confirming his hypothesis, but it was seeming more and more likely he was correct in his assumption.
Although he felt like every eye was watching his bag as it safe at his feet, Spencer knew that it was impossible for anyone to see anything, let alone would they think anything strange about the items. He couldn’t manage to fit the bag in his satchel, but he had tied the bag closed to prevent anyone from seeing it, or the contents from spilling out.
By the time it was his stop Spencer was just about ready to run off the bus and hide in his apartment for a week, though he remained composed until he was shutting his door behind him with the firm click of the lock being switched into place.
His hands were shaking as he untied the bag, setting each item down on his kitchen counter. First the candy, then the bubbles, then the book, and with his eyes fluttering shut Spencer reached in to pull out the blue bunny.
It felt softer than before, though he knew that was physically impossible. The toy sent tingles starting in his fingertips and rushing to his stomach. It felt nice to have the light weight in his hands.
He pulled the bunny up till it was resting under his chin, the fuzz brushing against his neck and face as Spencer nuzzled into it. He felt like he was sinking into the stuffing that kept the bunny squishy and fluffy. No matter how hard he tried to keep some level of control over his mental maturity Spencer could feel himself falling younger and younger.
After a few minutes to adjust to the sudden shift Spencer allowed himself to carry his items to his couch. He explored the extent of his mind, surprised to find that although he felt slower he was still able to think about the things he usually would. If he needed to he could force himself back to his normal headspace which was reassuring, but he found that he didn’t mind feeling young quite as much as he thought he would.
Spencer tugged his jacket off, laying it down over the arm of the couch. He kept the bunny in his lap and slid his finger across the cover of the book. The hat was smooth and bumpy, while the wheat was soft and fuzzy, though not as soft as his bunny.
Spencer read through the few words that the book contained, but his main focus remained on the different textures of each animal and object on the farm. Spencer would have been embarrassed about his reaction if he allowed himself to think about it, but the way his mind seemed to slow down with each touch was soothing.
Spencer remained enthralled with the book for almost half an hour before he seemed to realize how long he’d been fixated on it. With a slight blush, he set the book off to the side and pulled his bunny from his lap and back against his chest.
His clothes felt wrong, itchy, and too tight. He wanted them to be soft, like his bunny, but the thought of standing up and going to his room was exhausting. Suddenly Spencer felt tired, though it was only a little after lunch. Spencer kicked off his jeans and unbuttoned his shirt before laying on his side. There was one of his mom’s old quilts hanging over the edge of the couch which he tugged over him before his eyes began to flutter shut.
Spencer forced his eyes open for a few more seconds, just long enough to pull his phone from his bag and make sure the ringer was on. Although he was having fun with this new headspace he wanted to be prepared if he got a call to head out for a case.
Spencer set his phone down on the coffee table and brushed one of his bunny’s ears across his cheek.
For the first time months, Spencer drifted off into a deep sleep in minutes. It was the most restful sleep he had gotten in longer than he cared to search his memory for. He couldn’t help but wonder what else this new coping mechanism might help with as it eased his stress and worries.